AN: To all my reviewers/favorite-rs/alert-ers, you are the wind beneath my wings. Without your love and encouragement, I wouldn't be able to have gotten this far, or update as frequently as I plan to. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Another big thank you to bethaboo, the most hard-working beta around, who beta-d my chapter in record time. And to SaturnineSunshine, for her encouragement and all-around awesomeness.
I hadn't meant for Recollection to drag on so long, but my apparent love for elaboration (and general wordiness) is making this into a longer story than planned. I do hope no one else minds.
And onto the chapter, enjoy!
"Chuck," Serena says warningly, and his only response is a sigh.
"Chuck," Eric repeats, and his voice is warning as well - the two blondes are opposite him, both wearing matching expressions of worry.
"You know there's an explanation—"
"Think—"
"This is stupid, Chuck. If—"
"You've already done this once, " Eric interrupts Serena. "And think about how much good that did you."
Chuck finally deigns to respond, wearing his customary smirk.
"That's where you're wrong, dear brother."
…
Blair makes sure to arrive slightly later—though not inappropriately so—in order to make one grand introduction of Léon. She cannot stand to be in the man's company for any longer, and she glances around quickly, hoping to spot someone to foist him off on.
Her conversation, or rather, argument, with Chuck still looms in the back of her mind as she explains Louis' visit to an intrigued Lily. She pushes it away because it doesn't bode well with the current situation. She will not allow anything to ruin the dinner, which was the perfect informal setting. Blair knew that Lily's invites would only extend to the uppermost tier of society, and as she glances around at the eight or so people milling about, she knows Lily has made the right choices.
There are the Hastings, whose extensive properties and prestigious bloodlines in England rendered them nearly royalty; the Kleinharts, who hardly ever deigned to dine anywhere but at their home; the Davises, internationally known for their grand parties; and, of course, the Archibalds, missing Nate. It was inevitable these connections would prove to Léon the worth of the Waldorf name, and Blair believed his mother, Emmanuelle, would eventually see it as well.
Why they would ever choose to associate themselves with the Winters was beyond Blair's scope of reality, but she chooses to ignore it, focusing solely on her mission instead.
Because everything else—Nate's mysterious disappearance, for one, not to mention her argument with Chuck—seem to melt into the background when she introduces Léon to everyone, beaming smile and handshake at the ready.
She has always been good at avoidance.
The short introductions over, and Léon safely ensconced with Greg Kleinhart, discussing New York real estate, Blair heaves a relieved sigh and makes her way over to Eric and Serena. The former is frowning, the latter is simply knocking back another glass of champagne.
Something is most definitely wrong, but as soon as Serena spots her, she plasters on a bright smile.
"B!" she exclaims, and Blair is nearly crushed by her crippling hug. "You look amazing."
"Thank you, S," Blair says, stepping back to smooth down the skirt of her one-shouldered dress, a spray of golden foliage decorated the bottom half of the skirt, and a swooping shoulder completed the look. "Please tell me you're not drunk."
Serena shakes her head no, and Blair scrutinizes her carefully. Truth be told, Serena looks more nervous than drunk.
"Eric," Blair acknowledges the younger boy, who nods at her, his expression grave.
"Serena," Blair draws out the word, glancing around coyly. "Where's Cabbage Patch?"
"Dan," Serena says in slight annoyance, "is with Rufus at a gallery opening. They decided to sit this one out."
Blair smirks. "The smartest move they've had all week. I was hoping I didn't have to explain to Léon why there were commoners present."
Serena rolls her eyes. "Sure, B."
"So Dan isn't here," Blair says, her coy smile returning.
"No," Serena says, hoping against hope that Blair's smile has nothing to do with—
"Will you entertain Léon?" Blair nearly pleads, her smile beguiling.
"I thought that was your responsibility," a voice comes from behind them, and the three whip around to face an unfazed Chuck Bass.
But before Blair can retort, her eyes land on the girl who has just entered behind Chuck.
One Kelly Winters.
And Blair sees red.
…
"I can't believe he brought her here," Blair whispers to Serena, glancing sideways to ensure that Léon is still engrossed in a conversation about the pros and cons of apartment renovations. It is a conversation she has no interest in, and Blair wonders if anyone at the table is as bored by the man as she is.
It may pain her to say it, but Blair knows without a single doubt that no one will ever truly compare to Chuck. Not in her eyes, at least.
But his comments from earlier that afternoon, no matter how accidental, still hurt. She knows he did not consciously mean the words, but the infliction is enough—that he thought them, even without knowing the entire story, is enough. It is enough to convince her that keeping their relationship a secret is a good idea.
This way, she thinks triumphantly, she can continue her life as though nothing has happened. Gossip Girl will not add to the damage this time, as she usually does.
In truth, Blair knows they will move on from this, eventually. She is tired of fighting—fighting everyone else, fighting Chuck, fighting them, fighting herself. She just wants to be happy. But she also knows that the trust Chuck must regain will not come easily. That today is just proof of how volatile he can be, how jealous. And while the latter trait is sometimes amusing, Blair has seen firsthand the damage it can do.
Forcing herself away from her thoughts, Blair loosens her grip on her fork, focusing on Serena instead.
"He didn't," Serena is insisting, "he didn't bring her."
"She's here," Blair hisses back. "She was never on the guest list. I suppose I do have to thank Lily for seating Chuck on the opposite end."
Serena shakes her head again. "No, B. She wasn't invited, but the Winters invited themselves, then backed out—Kelly came in their place."
Blair frowns, letting the statement sink in. "But—"
"Chuck dropped us off here then went somewhere. I guess to pick up Kelly—"
"He is trying to sabotage me," Blair groans. "Serena, did you tell him? I swear to God—"
"I told him, but he's not sabotaging you," Serena whispers back, a little too loudly as she receives a warning glare from Lily. "He's not, Blair. Eric moved the place cards earlier, so that Chuck's would be next to Kelly's and as far away as possible from you and Léon. He was acting on Chuck's orders, I guess."
"He's…helping?" Blair asks, voicing her disbelief.
Serena shrugs. "I couldn't believe it either. He must really love you, B."
Serena is pulled into a conversation by Marie-Anne Davis, and Blair is left to herself for a moment.
And that moment is consumed by one thought.
Chuck really must love you.
Then Léon turns to her with a smile, thanking her for introducing him to "such a winsome and engaging group of individuals".
And the moment is lost.
…
Chuck isn't quite sure what to think, as he watches Blair intently. Kelly, however intelligent her machinations may be, is droning on in his ear, and he wonders if this is worth it.
But then Blair catches his eye, before glancing away quickly, the barest hint of a blush alighting her cheeks.
He smirks, as he scrapes his chair back, excusing himself with an indifferent nod. Making his way towards the adjacent hallway, he allows his fingers to brush by Blair's bare shoulder as he passes.
She shivers visibly, so visibly that Léon asks if she is cold.
And Blair shakes her head no, her eyes following Chuck as he walks away.
"You should go after him," Serena pipes up from beside her, voice decidedly innocent as she cuts her asparagus.
Blair merely raises an eyebrow.
"It's easier if you two are together," Serena explains. "Apart it feels like you're fighting every two minutes."
Blair's expression turns slightly irate, but she allows Serena to continue her quiet advice.
"And you know he loves you. So go after him, Blair."
When Blair remains sitting, Serena throws her a look of exasperation.
"And I'll protect Léon from Kelly," Serena relents.
Blair's smile is beatific as she excuses herself, following Chuck's path out the door.
Serena merely shakes her head and smiles at Léon, whose returning smile is polite, if slightly cold.
"How are you enjoying New York?" she asks, propriety coloring her words.
"New York is exquisite," Léon replies, his tone still oddly formal. "I'm enjoying it profusely, thank you."
Serena smiles uncertainly at his solemn tone. How Blair had managed to accompany him for a day is beyond her.
"And how did you enjoy Europe?" Léon asks, and Serena wonders if a sneer is evident, or if is simply her imagination.
"Do you mean Paris?" Serena inquires. "I was there this past summer with Blair, I—"
"Ah, yes, I remember meeting Blair, but not you," Léon interrupts. And before Serena has a chance to explain, continues on. "But not this summer, I was referring to a summer a few years ago. Perhaps you remember?"
The words sting slightly, and Serena does remember a summer spent in Europe a few summers ago. She remembers dancing on tables and accepting shots from strangers. She remembers her desperation to get her father's attention, and exactly how much it hurt to be shunned by her own father.
"It wasn't one of my finest summers," Serena explains levelly, although it is now clear why Léon has a particular distaste for the blonde. "I do apologize for taking up unnecessary room in your tabloids."
Léon waves it off easily, swallowing and smiling viciously at Serena. "Apology accepted, of course. But Serena—may I call you Serena?" She nods, and he continues on, "Serena, you don't remember my last name, do you?"
"Desmarais?" Serena asks, confused. Blair has mentioned the name so often recently that it is almost impossible for her not to remember the name.
"And it doesn't sound familiar to you at all?" Léon prods, and Serena's frown deepens. She does remember thinking the name was vaguely familiar—but she attributed it to the name's prestige.
"No," Serena says slowly, unable to come up with any explanation to Léon's odd line of questioning. "Should I?"
"Of course not," Léon says, almost disappointed as he settles back down in his own seat, reaching for his wine for the first time that night.
His voice is almost triumphant, Serena thinks uneasily. She racks her mind, but is unable to come up with anything.
Taking a sip of her own wine, Serena makes sure to enlist Blair's help later on.
…
"Waldorf."
"Bass," Blair says, whipping around suddenly, movements slightly frantic. She had started down the same path Chuck had, only to turn off into another hallway, and into the bathroom. Apparently, Chuck had heard her, for he was leaning against the opposite wall, dark eyes unreadable.
Blair mentally scolds her heart for beating so loudly, lest Chuck hear and know the exact extent of how his presence affects her.
"You weren't—" Chuck says, his voice slightly accusatory.
"No," Blair interrupts, voice firm. "But you knew that."
Chuck merely shrugs. He had heard Blair, only she would have taken off her shoes in order to make sure she isn't heard by him. But then again, she is Blair and he is Chuck—and they are drawn to each other almost inexplicably.
So when he had heard her footsteps disappear down another hallway, Chuck had followed her to the bathroom, situating himself opposite the door.
"I just needed a…break," Blair admits, tone as close to embarrassed as Blair Waldorf could get.
"From Léon?" Chuck asks, unable to hide the elation in his voice.
Blair tilts her head, weighing her options. She knows that making Chuck jealous tonight won't get her anywhere—that was never Léon's role in her game. His role was simply to gain Eleanor access to Paris' royal circle. He was never meant to be an instigator of another all-out Chuck-and-Blair war.
"Yes," Blair says with a heaving sigh—one that Chuck mistakes as relief that she is away from Léon, but in truth, is a sigh of relief that tonight, they are not playing a game.
Chuck smirks. "I knew you weren't truly interested—"
"I was never interested in him, Bass," Blair is quick to interject. "You made that up, not me."
"Serena told me," Chuck admits, "that you were simply using Léon as a tool in Eleanor's game."
Blair shrugs, "She's my mother," she says simply. Then, narrowing her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Avoiding Kelly Winters," Chuck mumbles.
"You always did prefer them not talking," Blair says with a laugh.
"Excepting you," Chuck states, and their eyes lock for a moment, and they both realize the truth in that statement.
"Chuck—"
"You know me better than I know myself," Chuck interrupts, "you I can't stand the thought of you with someone other than myself. Do you even understand how difficult it is to see some other man even daring to look at your perfection?"
"I didn't tell you about Léon because I knew you would be jealous," Blair admits. "But also because I didn't want to admit how weak-willed I am when it comes to my mother."
Blair sighs quietly, leaning back against the wall, "I didn't want this, Chuck. Eleanor wanted an in with Parisian royalty, and she saw an opportunity with Léon. And she saw me as the perfect pawn to use in her game.
"And I—I was weak enough to allow her to do so."
There is a sharp intake of breath at the close of her sentence, as if Blair has just realized the veracity of her words. That somehow, by saying it aloud, to Chuck, she has realized the problem with the entire situation.
"I was never pursuing a relationship with Léon," Blair says, her tone oddly formal—she wonders if Léon is rubbing off on her, and she shudders at the thought. "And it was preposterous of you to think so."
"I overreacted," Chuck relents. "And I'm sorry."
There is a moment, between Chuck's words and Blair's response, when he truly believes that she will forgive him.
Then he remembers that this is not the only time he has overreacted—that his jealousy may have been more than a simple issue between them—and he doubts that forgiveness is in his future.
"You're sorry?" Blair asks hollowly. "You're always sorry, Chuck."
"And I do mean it," he says earnestly. "I'm Chuck Bass. And I screw things up. But you're Blair Waldorf. You're not a pawn in anyone's game but your own. And until you realize that, you'll never accept yourself."
"I'm not the one preventing this relationship from going forward," Blair shoots back, tears stinging at the edges of her eyes. "Don't you dare insinuate that, Chuck."
"I'm not," he recoils, "but you were the one who suggested we keep this a secret."
"Because I knew it would be like this!" Blair explodes. "Because I knew that once we were happy, it wouldn't last for long. At least if we weren't together publically, the blow would be lessened. At least if we were a secret, I wouldn't have to fear that I don't trust myself with you."
Blair pauses, and she knows her next words are a mistake before they leave her mouth. But it is a thought that has been brewing in her mind a long while, and she knows that this is the right thing to do. The right mistake to make.
"And I don't trust you," she finishes.
Chuck's response is immediate. His jaw clenches, his eyes turn several shades darker, and he makes a slight movement, as though he is attempting to move towards her, but also attempting to hold himself back.
At war with himself.
Just like she is with herself, Blair realizes. That she is as much a pawn in her own game as Chuck is in his. That their only enemy lies not outside of them, but in each other.
"But you were right," Blair says quietly. "I'm weak because I can't stand up to my own mother. I'm weak because I refuse to stop warring with myself."
They stand there, Blair looking at Chuck, her expression a mixture between hope and despair—and Chuck looking as though some internal battle is taking place.
"You don't trust me," he begins slowly, addressing the first issue that he cannot understand. "I don't blame you."
"I know you're sorry," Blair tells him. "And I forgive you. But I can't trust myself with you. And I can't trust you. Not yet."
"Not yet," Chuck repeats. "When?"
"I don't know," Blair admits. "I keep thinking that one day, I'll wake up and you'll be there, and I'll know that it's the day I start trusting you again. But that's one day—and we both know those don't really exist."
"No," Chuck agrees. "They don't."
Because I'm going to get it back. It's only a matter of time.
Timing was never their strong suit.
"How do I prove it to you?" Chuck blurts out, and the desperation is beginning to seep through his voice, and he utterly hates himself for it.
"You can't," Blair says sadly. "Because I don't even know what you can do. I just don't know, Chuck."
"We can't end things like this," he almost begs. "Not like this."
"We're not ending things," Blair says, and she shakes her head and blinks her eyes rapidly. But the tears continue to fall.
"What do we have, then?"
"Tonight."
So shut up and dance with me.
Chuck sits down next to Blair, who, over the course of the conversation, has sunk down to the floor, curls spilling across one bare shoulder, disheveled as Blair Waldorf will ever get.
Placing her head innocently on his shoulder, Blair sighs contentedly, and Chuck thinks, that if they could stay in this moment forever, it would be perfect.
But perfection is overrated and nothing comes closer to perfect than imperfect, after all. And so Chuck learns to accept that where they are is exactly where they need to be. They have both realized the consequences of scheming against each other, rather than together. And Blair has all but accepted their inevitability—and by extension, his (future) proposal, he thinks with a small smirk.
Through the past two months, they have somehow grown into different people—who are essentially still the same.
And Chuck is completely fine with that.
…
"Nate."
Jenny looks at him firmly, not allowing herself to be drawn in by his expression.
"You won't tell anyone," Jenny commands. "No one, Nate. Not even Dan. Especially not Dan."
"They deserve—"
"This is best for everyone," Jenny tells him with a sigh. "We've been over this. If they don't know, they'll be better off. I'll have this baby and give it up for adoption, and everything we'll be fine."
"It won't be just fine," Nate argues. "Do you think Chuck would want his child given up for adoption?"
Jenny pauses, as she always does when the conversation turns to the paternity of her unborn child.
"Nate," she changes the topic quickly. "Just don't tell anyone, okay? If you meant what you said—that maybe we could…we could be together, after this is all over, if you care for me, you won't tell anyone."
Nate nods.
…
"We should get back," Blair says, her voice slightly muffled. Chuck shifts slightly, looking down at her, and she blinks up at him.
"You don't want to," he tells her.
Blair considers this.
"Listening to Léon's theory on the recession and why the Parisian government is superior to America's is enthralling," Blair says drily.
"So I suppose I wasn't doing you a favor, keeping Kelly away," Chuck deadpans.
"No," Blair says, "I don't know how the bitch got an invite, but at the very least, she's hasn't even formally met Louis. If it weren't damaging to my plan, I'd introduce them. It seems like they'd be the perfect match."
"They would be," Chuck comments. "Stay here with me."
"And leave Léon to fall into Kelly's claws?" Blair shudders. "I think not."
"This is your mother's war," Chuck reminds her. "Not yours."
Blair contemplates this for a second. Chuck's words have a truth to them, she thinks. And though sitting on a floor—though probably clean enough to eat off of—is not her idea of an enjoyable evening, Blair knows that this is preferable to being seated next to Léon.
Blair leans back, allowing herself to relax fully for the first time that evening.
"So we stay here," she remarks.
"Unless you'd like to try out Eric's bed," Chuck challenges, but the joke falls flat.
"Serena should manage to stave the bitch off for now," Blair says, as though her staying in the hallway is of no consequence. "And I don't think Eric would appreciate that. Besides, how did you manage to have her arrive late? The Winters are notorious for being ridiculously early."
Chuck smirks, and Blair cringes at the thought, an unfamiliar flare of jealousy erupting in the pit of her stomach.
So that is jealousy, she thinks. Not the kind she has been accustomed to whenever she sees a flash of blonde hair and an omnipresent golden tan. Not the same anger she used to feel when she heard Nate laugh at Serena's jokes.
This, she thinks, is what loving someone is like. It is loving them so fiercely that you almost lose all sense of self.
"I never touched her. I bribed her housekeeper to misplace her shoes," Chuck admits after a second. And there is a sigh, albeit a quiet one, of relief from Blair. "And as for Eric…I'd just offer to buy him a new bed."
Blair raises her eyebrows. "Not your finest work. And bribing Eric, really, Bass?"
"I was thinking in the moment," Chuck shoots back. "Normally, I'd have you to scheme with. Eric's used to bribes, he's the youngest."
"I suppose I should have asked for your help," Blair says thoughtfully. "Who would've thought you'd be helpful of your own free will, Bass? Certainly not someone who bribes their younger brother. Although," Blair sighs quietly, "sometimes I was jealous of Serena having a little brother. She was never lonely growing up.
"Only for you," Chuck replies faux-solemnly. "And you didn't grow up lonely, Blair. You had Serena. Nate. Your minions."
"The preschool ones?" Blair asks with a laugh. "They were even more incompetent than my NYU ones, and even as a preschooler I knew that. But no, I didn't have them, Chuck. They had each other."
"Then you had me," Chuck tells her. "Even if my sole purpose was to annoy you and pull out your pigtails."
"Dorota used to use extra-strong hair ties because of you," Blair admonishes him with a laugh.
But within the story, there is a truth. Though his sole purpose had always been to annoy her, to toy with her and to irritate her, Chuck has always been there for her. When she had hoped to see a blonde head, she had seen Chuck instead, expression abnormally concerned.
Blair rolls her eyes slightly, but the smile on her lips is one of contentment.
"But we really should go back," she huffs, "I left Serena in charge of him."
But she remains in her place.
"Eleanor shouldn't be asking you to do her dirty work," Chuck tells her. And Blair shakes her head.
"Being a glorified tour guide isn't my idea of a perfect day," Blair relents. "But she's my mother. And even if she's in Paris, I'll always feel the need to prove myself to her."
She knows that Chuck has more experience with this than anyone. That his yearning for Bart's approval has transcended even Bart's death, as evidenced by him trading her for the Empire.
"You're Blair Waldorf," he states. "And that alone should be enough for her."
"This is Eleanor we're talking about. I'll never be enough for her—"
"You're enough for me," Chuck says stubbornly, and Blair's eyes lock with his once more.
And suddenly, they're not talking about Eleanor any longer.
"I can't change," Chuck begins. "I'm Chuck Bass and I make mistakes. I'll always screw up, some way or another. But I'm Chuck Bass. And I love you."
The tiny gasp from Blair does not go unnoticed by him.
"I love you, too," she breathes. And the words are like a spark, and in seconds, his hands are in her hair, her polished fingernails clutching his shoulders.
The familiarity of it is comforting. The way his hands move from her hair to her shoulders, blazing a trail of fire down her exposed shoulder. Their breaths are wild, loud enough that when they finally pull apart, eyes dark, chests heaving, Blair hopes that no one has dared ventured out to find them yet.
"Can I ever trust you again?" Blair asks quietly, steeling herself for his answer.
"I learn from my mistakes," Chuck responds simply. Blair considers this, then leans forward, pressing her lips to his.
The kiss is short, sweet.
It feels like goodbye.
"Chuck?" Blair says, as she starts down the hallway. "Thanks."
Before he can ask, she answers his unspoken question. "For distracting Kelly. You could have sabotaged this for me, but you chose to help me. Thanks, Bass."
"Anytime, Waldorf."
The departure is bittersweet, but Chuck notes one thing. That they have both learned from their mistakes. Simply because they are no longer warring with each other, but finding common ground and fighting together. Beyond that, Blair had essentially chosen him over her Mother, choosing to sit in a hallway with him instead of at a dinner table, next to Léon.
His step is noticeably lighter when he starts down the hallway.
…
"You're back," Serena says in relief, and she notices the flushed cheeks, the swollen lips—and she frowns. "You were gone for a while, B."
"One can only take so much conversation about topics as mundane as Parisian government," Blair retorts. Serena doesn't push it. Chuck slides into his own seat, farther down the table and next to a slightly irate Kelly.
"What happened?" Serena inquires, but as most of her inquiries regarding Chuck and Blair go, Blair merely shakes her off.
"Nothing. What did I miss?"
"Er, dinner?" Serena says, confused. "They're about to bring out dessert."
Blair smiles apologetically to Lily, before crafting a lie for Léon, while simultaneously mentally replaying her conversation with Chuck.
…
"You're not going to tell me what happened between you and Chuck, are you?" Serena says in the elevator, and Blair berates herself for not pulling someone else into the elevator with them when she had the chance. With other people present, Serena's inquiries could have been staved off for a longer time. Léon, she supposes, would have been the obvious choice. But he had already left five minutes earlier, with promises to call Blair the next day.
"Later," Blair says dismissively, not because she won't tell Serena, but because she's not quite sure what to make of their conversation. "Did I hear correctly, S? Did Kelly wish Léon goodnight and ask him to call her tomorrow?"
Serena cringes, and all thoughts regarding Chuck and Blair are stemmed. "You were gone a long time, B. I couldn't exactly occupy two seats at once."
"You let her take my seat?" Blair asks, scandalized.
"My mom looked like she wanted to throttle Kelly, but Marie-Anne distracted her with talk of the unreliability of interior designers."
"And Kelly probably shares Léon's unremarkable interests," Blair says with a sigh. "They're perfect for each other."
"I don't know," Serena says warily. "If anything he seemed irritated by her."
"Irritated?" Blair perks up.
"Until they started talking about government," Serena explains with a cringe. "Apparently Kelly is looking into politics."
Blair groans. "My mother is going to kill me."
Serena is quiet for the rest of the elevator ride, and as they cross the lobby, heels clicking simultaneously against the marble, an angry staccato from Blair, a calmer version from Serena.
"Was it worth it?" Serena asks, completely out of the blue as Blair slides into the town car.
A pensive, almost wistful expression overtakes Blair's features.
"Yes."
tbc