Dear everyone, I apologize that this took far longer than I would have liked to update. I started my internship on Tuesday and I'm utterly in love with it like you wouldn't believe, but between getting lost multiple times and staring out the window of whatever building or vehicle I'm in all starry-eyed and in love with this place, I've only been able to write a little bit each night. And apparently you need to go to bed early when you're a working girl. But! It's a holiday weekend so maybe I can crank something out for y'all this weekend? Love, Crazed Intern
As always, THANK YOU for taking the time out to review! I love you all. I really do. I'm behind on replying, but I should be able to catch up by the weekend! Love to all of you! I mean seriously, there are over 200 reviews on this story! That's insane! In a totally good way of course.
THINGS I OWN: A name badge I wear proudly at work. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl
"And the worst part? He fails to realize it's not just the fact that he pimped me out to Jack. He thinks if he says he's sorry enough times, I'll eventually forgive him. You know what? If he said 'I'm sorry' for the right things, maybe I would. Why is he so damn dense?" Blair punctuated the end of her rant by shoving a piece of salmon into her mouth and chewing violently. Nate, seated across from her, cut another piece of his steak and wished he were anywhere else but seated across the table from Blair Waldorf in the middle of a dignified tantrum.
"Why don't you just tell him whatever else he did wrong?" he asked. "It's Chuck, Blair. He's not exactly programmed to understand things like hurt feelings and wounded pride."
"Telling him would defeat the purpose!" Blair exploded. "He needs to understand on his own!"
Nate sighed and wondered why he had bothered to offer advice in the first place. He was merely eating with Blair because it was Sunday and neither of them had anywhere to go. The van der Woodsens, Humphreys, and Chuck were having one of their family dinners and while invitations had been extended to both himself and Blair, they had both declined, wanting to give the eclectically comprised family some time together, himself wanting to avoid feeling like he had to pick between his best friend and his girlfriend as Serena had yet to say so much as 'pass the salt' to Chuck since their dining room confrontation. Blair had roped him into joining her for dinner and had been ranting about Chuck since the time their first drinks had arrived.
"I don't understand the two of you," Nate declared. "I can't decide what you love more - each other or hurting each other." He expected Blair to retaliate with a sharp tongue. It could be a game, he reasoned, to see how far he could push Blair before he went too far and lost his head in the aftermath. It would entertain him at least. Instead, she sighed.
"It's complex and confusing and nothing about us makes sense, but we do love each other, Nate. Even when we probably shouldn't. Chuck said it best – we're magnetic. Seeing as I'm working on forgiving the unforgivable, I'd even say we're inevitable."
"You know, Chuck really is remorseful for what he did," Nate commented. If Blair was suddenly going to lose her soaring temper and effectively end his game, he figured he could throw his best friend a bone at least. Blair eyed him, suddenly remembering her conversation with Serena and surprised she hadn't thought to bring it up before.
"Serena said you went to Chuck's penthouse the night after one of his supposed parties and there was no sign of one." Nate nodded his agreement with the story. "She also said Chuck was going on about visitors being banned and that he was drinking at eight o'clock in the morning."
"He was," Nate confirmed. "And the penthouse was spotless. The only thing out of place was a bottle of scotch sitting on the floor next to a chair by the window. There was a lot of alcohol missing from the bar though. He went tried to throw me out even though I technically live there. I don't know what's going on with him, to be honest."
"It's not adding up," Blair said, tapping her plate with her fork. "I can't put my finger on what it is, but nothing is adding up. He's never in the pictures Gossip Girl posts and lately, the parties and hookers have stopped. I guess it's because of Lily being so sick, but still, something isn't clicking. He didn't even smell like scotch the last couple of times I saw him."
"I can assure you he's still drinking scotch." Nate reached for his own drink on that note.
"Serena mentioned Johnnie Walker," Blair told him. "What was that about?"
Nate hesitated. He didn't understand the Johnnie Walker SOS call himself. He had been with Serena when it had came in, her half asleep and his boredom growing, his thoughts straying to the number of Wii games he had at the penthouse. Chuck had called and repeated the words from the note Nate hadn't been sure he'd even read. Having been Chuck Bass's best friend for nearly his whole life, he knew if Chuck was asking for help, it was bad.
When he had arrived, Chuck was well on his way to whatever past drunk was having hit the drunk mark long ago. Nate had asked him if he was okay and he had said no. He'd followed that up with the obligated 'do you want to talk about it' to which Chuck had again answered no. Chuck had slid a glass of scotch his direction and turned up a fresh glass himself showing no signs of slowing up anytime soon. Nate had taken it upon himself to drink just to keep Chuck from consuming it all and had endured the mother of all hangovers the next day to prove it. Of course, neither of them had mentioned the night before when Nate had stumbled to the kitchen for the Aspirin Chuck was already opening, Chuck passing him two pills his way of saying thank you while Nate's half toast of his water glass before swallowing down the pain killers his you're welcome.
"Nothing, really," Nate said, lying. He had a feeling whatever it was that had prompted Chuck to call him was something Chuck needed to discuss with Blair and he would do whatever he needed to keep it as quiet as he could until then, even if he had no idea what it was he was hiding. "I guess it was Chuck's way of offering an olive branch. We haven't been on the best of terms lately." It occurred to Nate that every time he and Chuck had been at odds, Blair was at the center of the conflict.
"Chuck needs you," Blair told him, her eyes serious. "I don't know if he's strong enough to handle losing Lily. I know you'll have your hands full with Serena when the time comes, but – just don't forget about Chuck."
Nate studied Blair. The Blair he had known while her boyfriend was not the Blair that was now sitting across from him. That Blair had cared about scaling the social ladder and being Queen Bee, not about who she hurt or knocked down in the process. This Blair had given up her schemes and games. She had grown up and somewhere along the way, became a good person. That wasn't to say the schemes wouldn't be resurrected if the situation called for it, but social demise was no longer on the agenda. There were more important things on her mind, namely how to take care of her friends.
"I won't forget about him," Nate promised. "But we both know the one person he'll need is… you."
"I know," was all Blair said. And she did know. She had already jumped ahead to the inevitable day when Lily passed away and was attempting to come up with the best plan of action for comforting those she loved. So far, the only definitive plan she had in place was having Dorota cook up enough food so Lily's family – Chuck included - didn't have to cook or call for room service for at least two weeks.
Without warning, her stomach gave a lurch. Nate saw her face suddenly pale.
"Are you okay?" he asked. Blair breathed in through her nose and half shook her head no, half nodded yes, trying not to open her mouth for fear of losing the contents of her meal. "Should I get the check?" She nodded urgently before getting up and sprinting as gracefully as she could to the bathroom.
She was certain she couldn't move if she wanted to. She was also certain she would never eat salmon again. She heard her room door open and close but didn't bother opening her eyes. If she pretended to be asleep, maybe whatever doctor coming to ask her how she was feeling this time would leave her alone. The feel of warm lips pressing a kiss to her damp forehead made her flutter her eyelids open. She was rewarded with Chuck's brown eyes, soft and full of concern as he leaned over her.
"The doctor said you were resting," he said softly. He reached a hand out and pushed the hair away from her forehead.
"I couldn't if I wanted to," she complained. "They keep coming and asking me if I'm okay. I just want to sleep!" She knew she was whining, but she felt too bad to care. Chuck studied her for a whole two seconds before picking up her hand and kissing it gently.
"I'll be right back," he promised. Then he disappeared.
Blair closed her eyes again and started piecing together the events that had led her to the emergency room once more. She had become violently ill at the restaurant suddenly and by the time Nate had helped her to the sofa of her mother's living room, she had been on the verge of collapse. A fever had taken over and her stomach, devoid of anything to throw up, had continued cramping violently, prompting Nate to call Dorota. Dorota had rushed over from Queens, taken one look at her, cursed the temporary maid for not having Gatorade or another suitable substitute on hand in case of a stomach emergency, and called for the car to take them to the hospital. There was something about food poisoning and dehydration and there were dry heaves and extreme nausea followed by IVs. Then she had fallen asleep and woken up in a private hospital room with Chuck looking over her. She heard the door open and close and knew Chuck had returned.
"A nurse will be in every hour or so to check your IVs and a doctor will come by later, but for now, you can rest comfortable," he told her. "They've been instructed to be as minimally intrusive as possible." Blair opened her eyes and gave him the best grateful smile she could manage when devoid of all energy.
"Thank you." Chuck sat in a chair that was too close to her bed to have been there before his arrival and took her hand in his.
"You're welcome," he said dismissively. "How are you feeling?"
"Weak," she answered truthfully. "Tired." He nodded.
"You were pretty dehydrated," he confirmed. "Dorota is still ranting about the lack of a proper electrolyte restorative in the Waldorf kitchen." Blair didn't smile. Dorota always had Gatorade on hand because she knew about the bulimia and when it had been at it's peak, she had often forced Blair to drink Gatorade to keep her hydrated, even if she couldn't get her to keep it down.
"What time is it?" she asked.
"Nearly one in the morning." She frowned.
"And I'm still here?" It was food poisoning, she reasoned. She could sleep it off in her bed just as easily as she could in a generic hospital room.
"Don't bother protesting," Chuck informed her. "The doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation. Assuming you're properly hydrated and able to keep down a light meal in the morning, you'll be able to go home then."
"I'm never eating salmon again," she informed him.
"Salmon? What's salmon have to do with anything?"
"I was eating salmon when I got sick," Blair explained. "I'm never, ever touching the stuff again. Or any other fish for that matter. Sushi included."
"It wasn't the salmon that made you sick," Chuck told her. "Apparently you had eggs at breakfast with Serena this morning. The doctors said they had salmonella. The fact that you eat like a bird kept you from getting even sicker than you are."
Blair groaned. "Fine. I'm never eating eggs again." Chuck smiled at her dramatics. "I feel terrible."
"You look terrible." Blair glared at him.
"Thanks, Bass," she said with a sharp tongue.
"New leaf… honesty… it was necessary," he replied with a hint of a smirk.
"If I felt better I'd tell you exactly what you could do with this new honesty leaf of yours," Blair huffed. She squirmed in the hospital bed in an attempt to get comfortable while Chuck let out a short laugh. "Shouldn't you be in bed somewhere? You're running a multibillion dollar company now. That has to require some level of functionality."
"Like I could sleep when you're in the hospital," Chuck replied. He left out that he couldn't sleep anyway, not without either her or his trusty sleeping pills.
"You don't have to stay," she told him, secretly hoping he would. She didn't want to be alone in a hospital room.
"I know I don't." He kissed the back of her hand before he dropped it and moved around in the chair until he was as comfortable as he was going to get. The hospital issued chairs left something to be desired and he decided he was going to donate adequate visitors chairs if he was going to be spending as much time in hospitals as he had lately. "Sleep, Blair."
Blair was too tired to do anything else.
Peace and quiet. It was a rarity on the Upper East Side. There was always a scandal to either hide or uncover or a society event to attend. Rarely was there time to be still, to just sit in a favorite pair of well-worn pajamas in the safety of one's bedroom walls and read a book or maybe write a journal entry. When the opportunity arose, it was foolish not to seize it. With her mother and Cyrus in Paris and the hired help dismissed for the evening, Blair was free to just be.
Her stomach was still iffy at best. She had managed to keep down a bowl of chicken broth that morning so the doctors had agreed to let her go home. Chuck had stayed the night, sleeping upright in the chair next to her bed. Though he hadn't complained, she had caught him rubbing his neck more than once and knew he must have been stiff. Once he had been assured that she was free to go home and that Serena would be with her, he had dismissed himself, citing his usual excuse of business. She and Serena had spent most of the day in the media room, picking up their Sex and the City marathon from where they had left off. As much as she loved Serena, she was almost happy to see her best friend leave, eager for some time alone with a book and her thoughts.
She had been avoiding thinking about Chuck and where they stood. She had been pretending that Chuck was a sort of enigma, appearing when appropriate and making some gesture, be it as simple as putting a blanket over her while she slept or as grand as selling The Empire, to maneuver himself a little more in her favor. It shamed her to admit that it was working.
The thing she had realized a long time ago was that if it had just been the hotel and Jack, she would have likely forgiven him by now and allowed him the chance to fix their relationship. More than two months had passed since that fateful night and she thought she was finally moving past it. It still pained her that Chuck had betrayed her, but in a twisted way, she understood.
That was the problem with Chuck. He was the most complex human she had ever met. Every one of them in their tight-knit group had mommy and/or daddy issues. Her father had left her mother for another man and moved to another country. Her own mother had been at the root of her eating disorder, managing to convince her at the most impressionable age that she was not good enough. Nate's father was in prison, his mother barely a bleep on his radar. Serena's father had returned after years of nothing and her mother, who, while not a great one, had probably been the best mother out of their group, was dying. Even the Humphrey duo had parent problems. But Chuck's were in a whole new realm and Blair often thought she was the only one – except for maybe Lily – who understood how much Chuck was affected by his lack of parental influence.
Despite his claims, Blair knew Chuck had loved his father. She could remember when they were younger, how the other boys would talk about baseball scores or highlights from the Knicks game while Chuck could recite the previous day's stock market action nearly verbatim from the various news reports and the Wall Street Journal, just to impress his father. She knew his affinity for bowties and tailored suits had a lot to do with trying to mimic everything Bart Bass said or did. In Chuck's mind, being like his father was the only way to maybe get his father to feel – something – and to show him – something – in return. Calling that something love almost seemed too – personal. And the Bass men didn't do personal.
Chuck had never felt loved in return, regardless of how hard and awkwardly he had tried to return it, and so he had acted out, doing whatever he thought might garner his father's attention. Blair knew better than to believe Chuck's womanizing and drinking and variety show of drugs was anything more than a cry for attention. When that didn't work, he had switched up tactics, pitching his father Victrola, determined to impress him. Even a year after Bart's death, regardless of what Chuck said, he was still trying to impress is father. His actions with Jack were proof of that.
His mommy issues were a whole other volume in the Chuck Bass saga. He had lived his entire life in guilt, believing he had killed his mother, only to have a woman appear bearing a striking resemblance to the woman he had barely seen a picture of and who all the evidence seemed to point to as the real deal. Blair knew how she should have seen the warning flags the second the woman had appeared or at the very least, when Chuck had accepted her into his life so easily. Or at least easier than it had been for him to accept her. But she had wanted Chuck to be happy and she knew the one thing that would make him the happiest would be to have a parent – a real, blood parent - in his life and so she had only encouraged him, desperate to see him smile.
He was a labyrinth of intricacies, too afraid to love – or maybe, to be loved - yet now that he had experienced love with her, too afraid to be without it. He wanted success and power. He also wanted her. There was a way, she knew, for him to have both, but he had no idea how to strike the balance between work and a personal life. He was clueless about how he had made her feel when he would blow her off for business meetings or paperwork. He was blind to the fact of how often he had made her feel lonely, especially in the days leading up to Jack's reappearance. He had no idea how hard she had tried to be perfect for him. In the back of her mind, she knew it would crush him if she knew just how hard she had tried sometimes.
She was sitting on her bed, gazing out the window as the sky fell dark and the city's lights turned twinkled on, when the sound of soft footsteps registered. Her instincts told her it was Chuck. She could almost feel his presence, she realized, as he drew nearer. He tapped softly on her door.
"Come in!" she called, reaching a hand to her hair in a vain effort to make herself look more presentable.
"Hey," he said softly as he opened the door. "I um, thought I'd stop by, see how you were feeling." He had a plastic bag in his hand and his tie was loosened, the top button of his dress shirt undone. His hair was ever so slightly rumbled and his eyes had dark circles under them. He was, Blair realized, exhausted. She felt a pang of guilt for his staying at the hospital the night before.
"I'm better," she told him honestly. "Though you don't look so hot." Chuck shook his head and came forward, placing the bag on the edge of her bed.
"It's been a long day," he said. "Let's just say I had a moment of clarity about how to use my newly found CEO powers while watching you sleep last night." Blair narrowed her eyes at him.
"What are you up to?" she asked. She had a feeling it had something to do with her, even in a roundabout way.
"Eradicating the world from evil," he said dryly. "Don't worry, Blair. It's all legal and it involves a lot of paperwork. Depending on the mood I'm in when the time comes, it may require a trip abroad, though I might be convinced to hand that off to an associate."
"It's legal, but is it moral?" Blair countered. She gave him a knowing look. He gave a tired shrug.
"Depends on your definition of moral, I suppose," he answered. He opened the bag he had brought in and pulled out a plastic container. "Here, I brought you dinner." He held it out to her. She took it, but didn't open it.
"Thank you, but I'm swearing off food at least until tomorrow. I barely kept down broth at the hospital this morning. I'm not chancing it yet."
Chuck shook his head. "You're eating that," he informed her. "You're also eating at least some of this stuff." He pulled out a banana and a container of applesauce. "There's supposed to be toast too but it would get cold on the car ride over." Finally, he pulled out a bottle of ginger ale.
"I just had food poisoning and you bring me a feast."
"It's called the BRAT diet," Chuck said. Blair scoffed as Chuck realized how that sounded. "It's bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast," he amended quickly. "I told the hotel cook you had been sick and asked him to make something for you that would set on your stomach. This was what he came up with."
"The doctor did mention something about rice and applesauce," Blair admitted, remembering the conversation she had tuned out, eager by that point to be rid of the hospital. Between Dorota giving birth, her sprained ankle, and Lily's illness, she had been there far too much lately as it was. "I suppose this container is full of rice." Chuck took it from her and opened the lid.
"It's called congee. The cook said it was rice boiled down into a porridge. He cooked it with a little bit of chicken broth to give it some flavor and said you can add salt or soy sauce to it if you want. Apparently it's a remedy the Chinese swear by." Blair eyed the almost soupy mixture wearily, but was touched by the effort Chuck put forth. "It's still warm." Her mind made up, she reached for it.
"I'll see what I can do," she told him, wanting to appease him by sampling the meal. She took the spoon he was offering her sampled the conge. She was surprised to find it wasn't half bad, if not a little bland. Chuck sat at the end of her bed while she ate, largely quiet and attempting to disguise his frequent yawns. She ate as much as she felt safe consuming and sat the container of congee on her nightstand, along with the half eaten banana and barely touched applesauce. The ginger ale was flat, but she thought that was intentional as it did wonders to settle her insides going down.
"I'll put that in the fridge when I leave. You should try to finish it for lunch tomorrow," Chuck said.
"I will," Blair promised. She decided it was time to shift the focus to him. "You look tired. I told you you didn't have to stay with me last night."
"And I told you I knew I didn't," he replied. "I wasn't going to leave you in a hospital alone."
"You're exhausted."
Chuck gave a sarcastic snort in response. "That's not from sleeping in a hospital chair last night."
"Then what's it from? A wild bender you squeezed in between lunch and an afternoon board meeting?" She felt bad when a weary Chuck merely shook his head no.
"It's hard to fall asleep when there's a lot on your mind," he said. His voice was heavy. "Though sometimes I prefer lying awake to dreaming." Blair frowned.
"What do you mean?" Chuck shook his head again.
"Nothing," he dismissed her as he stood. "I should go. Are you going to be okay here?" Blair nodded.
"Thank you for dinner," she told him sincerely. He nodded once, scooped up her leftovers, and headed out the door. Blair listened to him descend the stairs and pad through the house to the kitchen. She strained her ears to hear the faintest ding of the elevator a couple minutes later. Once she was sure he was gone, she let herself fall back into her thoughts, specifically to the conversation she and Nate had been having when she had gotten ill.
For one, she was certain Nate knew more than he was letting on. For another, as much as she hated to admit it, Nate was right. Her and Chuck needed to talk. They had reached a point of almost stagnation. True to his word, Chuck was doing what he could to win her back, but she had yet to throw him a real bone. As much as she wanted to blame it on Chuck's inability to see what was wrong with their relationship before, she had to blame some of it on fear as well. Letting him get too close would be putting her in the position to get hurt all over again and she wasn't sure how many times her heart could be repaired after Chuck Bass finished breaking it.
It was time, though, for something to give. What it would be, she didn't know, but as she turned on the TV and found An Affair To Remember on TCM, she knew it was time to find out. She would talk – really talk – to Chuck tomorrow, even if she had to schedule herself an appointment through his personal secretary to do so.
Next chapter… Talking ensues…