A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment – ''if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.

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Garbed in only Chuck's navy, silk smoking jacket, Blair sat at the dining room table reading the newspaper. She had to give the editors credit, they had managed to select nearly a dozen photos that perfectly captured the arc of the story they were trying to sell. She chuckled as she read the caption, "Making A Splash! Billionaire Bass and a Love Square?" Really, she didn't know how they came up with the headlines. But despite her amusement, Blair was a bit saddened by the events of last night, overshadowing what should have been a brighter moment for her and Chuck. Instead of being fast asleep in the comfort of his embrace, she was wide-awake at seven a.m. on a Sunday morning, devouring the print media. While she had expected people to watch her, Chuck and Henry like a hawk last night—she had not expected the stalker-esque proportions.

One by one, Blair studied each photograph—Chuck kissing her hand at their arrival, followed by his spontaneous kiss in front of the Holmbergs, next was a shot of Henry, Serena and herself laughing hysterically, another shot had Chuck grabbing a teary-eyed Henry by her elbow, then there was the one of Blair hugging Chuck from behind. Multiple images of Chuck and Hugh taking blows at one another, yet another had Carter restraining Chuck, followed by Nate holding Hugh back, one of her holding a sobbing Henry, and a final shot of Chuck escorting Henry out of the ballroom. Blair sighed, if she wasn't part of this entire fiasco, she would've been salivating—wanting every deal of the drama that was unfolding.

Blair would be furious that Chuck still wasn't home, had it been anything other than the state of Henry's love life. Henry had called her close to 1a.m., insisting that Blair tell Chuck he needed to come home, especially since she had begged him to leave. She heard Chuck's firm voice in the background insisting that Blair would want him to stay and support her. The moment Henry let her get a word in edgewise, Blair softly told her that she had avoided telling Chuck what had happened long enough, and that he wasn't welcome back until Henry had given him all the details. Henry made a last ditch effort to appeal, inviting her to join them—but it was late, and Blair knew Chuck would know something was up if he saw her.

After that, each hour, on the hour, Henry texted Blair a photo of Chuck—varying from him dozing on the couch, to wearing an apron and one with a piece of steak on his eye. Blair didn't know if she could love Henry more than she already did, it amazed her how thoughtful she was while in a sea of her own misery. It also affirmed her decision, that giving Hugh Chuck's copy of the key to Henry's apartment, had been the right thing to do.

As she stared at the photos on the front page of the Society section, again, the events of last night trickled back, playing as clear as a movie in her head.

After Chuck had unceremoniously punched Hugh, the combination of her and Henry's screams had distracted him. It had forced Chuck to turn towards them, his back to Hugh. When Hugh stood up, he took that opportunity to punch Chuck in his right eye. Nate and Carter had rushed over, Nate stepping in front of Hugh, blocking him from any forward movement, while Carter did the same with Chuck.

It was only then, that Blair realized how silent the room had gotten, and that their small circle was becoming the evening's entertainment. Every head was turned in their direction, flashes of cameras and phones were going off, and no one had lifted a finger to call for security. The only words that resonated in her head were damage control. It was she who had taken over, as she looked to Serena and barked out instructions, "Go find Neil, he's the head of security, and get him here immediately."

Serena nodded as she rushed off to do as she was bid.

Before another word could be spoken, Chuck glared at Hugh and hissed, "Stay the fuck away from Henry, do you hear me? Security is on its way, and once you're escorted out of here, it will be a cold day in hell before you'll ever get to speak to her, let alone get within 100 feet of her. You don't get to hurt her again."

"I don't get to hurt her?" Hugh scoffed. "I'm not the one who tossed her aside for some Upper East Side Princess."

The loose hold that Carter had on Chuck vanished with that veiled insult, as Nate made sure Hugh was available for the succession of punches that Chuck threw in Blair's honor.

But it was Henry's sob and voice that sliced through the air, stopping Chuck in his motion, "Stop! You're hurting him."

Blair quickly rushed over to comfort her. Chuck stepped back, staring at Henry with a look of confusion and anger. He moved towards them and said, "He deserves to get hurt. He's been hurting you for years, and he doesn't get to make insinuations about Blair. No one gets to hurt my family. I won't let that happen again."

A collective gasp sounded as the crowd began tittering, reminding everyone, once again, how much of a display this all was.

Just as Blair was about to suggest that Nate take Hugh out to security, she heard the sound of running feet head towards them. It appeared that Serena had managed to get the attention of the staff. As two uniformed men held Hugh by his arms, Chuck hadn't been able to resist taunting him. "Take a good look, because this is the last time you'll ever get to see her."

His words must have struck a chord, because Hugh's head jerked as he looked at Henry. As they were dragging him away, just as he was being pushed out the doors, he finally yelled, "Etta, I want to marry you, I want you to have my babies."

The pained look that crossed Henry's face was almost too much for Blair to bear, and she was relieved when Henry threw herself into Chuck's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. As Chuck tried to console her, rubbing a reassuring hand up and down her back, his eyes found hers. Blair leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Take her home, now. Call me later."

Chuck nodded and leaned over to kiss her quickly but firmly on the mouth goodbye, before he guided Henry out the door.

It was Carter who loudly announced to crowd, "Show's over."

As Serena, Carter and Nate gathered together, looking to her for answers, Hugh's words kept ringing in her head—he sounded like a man in love. Blair looked to her friends apologetically and said, "I'm sorry, but I have to take care of something. I'll call you tomorrow."

Without another word, Blair ignored the looks of curiosity as she followed in hot pursuit towards the direction that Hugh had been dragged off to. She arrived, right as Neil was about to call the police and she stopped him.

"Neil, if you could please put him in an office and give us some privacy?"

The Palace's head of security looked up at her questioningly. "I'm sure Mr. Bass will be wanting me to call the police, especially after all the ruckus this man caused. He won't like you being alone with him, Miss Waldorf."

"Neil," Blair said authoritatively, "Chuck isn't here right now, but I am, and I want words with this gentleman, in private. Need I remind you how much weight I carry with your boss?"

He shifted uncomfortably. She knew he was thinking about their meeting two days ago, when she and Chuck had spontaneously decided to revisit his old suite at 1812. Chuck had introduced her as the love of my life, and then proceeded to not so subtly grope her while they waited for the elevator. If she hadn't been so turned on, she would have died of embarrassment.

"I would hate to have to tell Chuck when I get home, how you refused to follow my instructions," Blair stressed.

The minute stretched into an agonizingly painful one. Just as she was about to snap out a threat, Neil conceded. "If you'll give me just a moment, Miss Waldorf, let me find you a room."

"Thank you," she returned graciously. Blair did not need to push Neil's buttons so much so, that he would call Chuck to confirm that her words were law. While Chuck wouldn't undermine her authority in front of his staff, there would be hell to pay and punishment later. Until she extracted the information she needed, she wasn't sure if she was willing to suffer the consequences.

She looked at Hugh carefully, his nose was bleeding and his left eye was swelling up, his Clark Kent style black glasses slightly bent out of shape. Blair instructed one of the security guards to fetch her a bucket of ice and some towels. Turning towards Hugh, she asked, "If they release their hold on you, do I have your word that you won't run?"

He looked at her suspiciously. "Why should I trust you? Perhaps it's better if they call the police."

Blair stepped towards him and looked at him with contempt, concealing her secret joy that he was as apprehensive about her, as she was about him. "I think you should trust me, because I'm the only person who can help you—if you want to see Henry, that is. And based on your parting words and your behavior for the past month, I'm gauging that that's something you want very, very much."

"You would help me?"

"I don't know," Blair confessed honestly. "But I'm offering you a chance to convince me that you have her best interests at heart."

"But, after what I said about you," Hugh said haltingly, he had the good sense to look embarrassed.

"You do realize you were trading punches with my boyfriend? Chuck's the king of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time," she informed him wryly.

Neil chose that moment to return. "Miss Waldorf, my office is at your disposable. I took the liberty of having the items you requested put in there."

"Thank you, Neil. This could take quite a while." Blair signaled to the security guards to release their hold on Hugh. She gestured for him to follow Neil.

When he got inside the room, Neil guided him into the bathroom to clean up and then pulled her aside. "I would feel much more comfortable if one of my men kept watch, for your safety."

"I appreciate your concern, but I guarantee you, it will not be necessary. You can leave someone outside the door, if you like," she reassured him. "I will not forget your cooperation."

With a nod, he held the door open for her, and after she entered, he shut the door quietly behind her.

Blair walked towards the desk, and placed some ice in a towel. When Hugh finally emerged from the bathroom, she handed him the makeshift ice pack.

"Thank you," he said politely, as he gingerly placed it against his eye, wincing in pain.

She gave him a minute to settle in.

He spoke before she could. "I'm sorry, I haven't thanked you yet, for your kindness. I'm Matthew Lim."

He placed the ice pack down and extended a hand. She placed her hand in his. "Blair Waldorf."

Now that the niceties had been completed, she asked the question that plagued her the most. "If your name is Matthew, why on earth does Henry call you Hugh?"

A soft smile crossed his face, and Blair took that moment to take stock of Henry's love. He was handsome enough—not, of course, even as close as handsome as Chuck, but he was attractive. He had a style all his own, from his glasses, all the way down to the way he wore his tuxedo— one that resembled a suit, even opting for a neck tie over a bow tie.

"She had a lisp, as a child," he answered. "When we met, she couldn't pronounce the 't' sound, so she kept saying 'Ma-hue'. I teased her mercilessly, because she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. But instead of getting mad, she just shrugged her shoulders and told me she was going to call me Hugh. Of course, I had to be difficult and start calling her Etta, because of the phonetic irony. I figured if she were going to refer to me as my last syllable, then I should return the favor. But she's the only one I let call me that, everyone else calls me Matt or Matthew."

Blair lips curved upwards as she observed the slight glow on his face. That might have been the cutest story she had ever heard.

"Can I ask you something?" He broached cautiously.

She nodded.

"I don't quite understand your relation to Henry, or hers to Chuck. If you're telling me he's your boyfriend…I get that I'm not in a position to be asking questions—"

"Henry and Chuck are like brother and sister," Blair interrupted. "The four of us are not all that dissimilar. I left Chuck years ago, and we've just recently found our way back. He and Henry have a surrogate-type relationship, she played his beard, while he was doing everything possible to try to win me back."

"Brother and sister?" Matthew said painfully. "This whole time, I said and did nothing, and they weren't even romantically involved?"

"What do you mean?" She asked curiously.

"How much do you know?"

"Enough."

"So you know what a complete idiot I was, back then?"

"I would agree with your choice of words."

"I just couldn't believe my luck that someone like her could love someone like me," he admitted. "I fell in love with her the first time I saw her, and even though she said it was the same for her, I just kept waiting for her to realize what a prize she was, and that I would never be enough for her."

This was becoming a familiar story, but Blair opted to say nothing.

"I was going to propose to her, you know, after her second year of college. I always knew I wanted to marry her, so I didn't see why we should wait. I never wanted her to go back to her uncle's house again. He used to parade her in front of his business associates, as if he were going to auction her off to the highest bidder. And because she had no other family, she just bit her tongue and said nothing. She wouldn't even tell me about it, because she didn't want to upset me. When she got into Stanford, it was even worse—and she only got a scholarship because I was at Berkeley. I didn't care if it was foolish, I didn't want her to ever have to go back to there and be subjected to that again. She never even told me she was pregnant! And when I got to the hospital, her uncle wouldn't let me see her. All he told me was that the procedure had some complications, but the baby was gone, and now everyone could move on with their life."

Blair watched as Matthew became glassy-eyed as he stared off into space. Her heart broke at his sadness, which equaled Henry's when she had relayed her version.

"It was every fear I had, confirmed—that she didn't really want to be with me, not if she had other options. So instead of demanding he let me see her, I ran. When school started that fall, she came to my dorm—every day for a month, but I refused to see her. Instead, I just transferred schools and disappeared. I didn't want to hear her lies, telling me that she wanted to be with me, when it was clear that her uncle had kicked her out. I couldn't bear the thought that I was her back-up plan, not when she was my first and only choice. So for the next two years, I lost myself in a haze of women, alcohol and drugs. But it didn't matter, no matter how much I obliterated I got, I couldn't stop seeing her in my head. I was still so angry and hurt.

"But about five years ago, my younger brother Mike starts dating an ex-classmate of hers—turns out that Etta had a miscarriage, and the father of her dead child rejected her. Do you have any idea what it felt like to hear that? That I doubted her, and instead, listened to her uncle—a known scumbag? Mike tried to press for details, but no one really knew anything. The only people who did were her ex-roommates, and they were keeping their lips sealed. I had no idea where she was, so I did the only thing I could think of—I went to her parents' grave every year on their memorial day. I'd camp out there from the minute they opened the gates, until they closed them. But she never came."

"What prompted the timing of all this? She's been going there for the past four years," Blair wondered aloud.

"I missed her that first year, because she was a day late—but Mike said someone we knew had spotted Etta in the city, and that she was living in New York. I tried to do all the research I could, but I was at a loss. The next year, I was determined to go for the entire week before and after if I had to, I couldn't miss my opportunity. But low and behold, when I finally get to see her, she's arrives with Chuck Bass. How the hell was I supposed to compete with that?" Matthew stared at Blair intently, almost as if he was daring her to challenge him.

When she kept quiet, he resumed his narrative. "Every time they're in San Francisco, I've followed them. It makes me feel like a complete psychopath, but I can't stop myself. It's so foolish, but I keep thinking that if I could just catch one drop of dissatisfaction she had with him, I could jump in. But he's been nothing but devoted—always so concerned and taking care of her! Every paper I could find in New York barely even references their low-key, are they or aren't they relationship. He had to be important to her, she'd never bring just anyone to her parents' grave. And then last month, she shows up alone, and I think, this is finally my chance. I can finally beg her for forgiveness."

Blair prodded him, "What happened when you saw her?"

"For a minute, she looked happy. And it was as though time stood still—she let me hold her and for the first time in close to a decade, I felt like I was home. But when I opened my mouth, the words came out all wrong. I don't know what happened! I had waited so long for this moment, and all I could say was I'm so sorry, please forgive me. I felt like my voice was on a loop, over and over, the same words spilling out," he admitted, staring at his hands, juggling the ice pack from one hand to the other.

Abruptly he stood up, setting the makeshift towel on his chair and walking to the window that overlooked the city lights. "And then she ran from me. She won't let me get close enough to speak to her. I haven't been able to work or do anything—other than follow her around. I trailed her all over San Francisco and then back here. She's just shutting me out."

"Can you blame her?" Blair snorted. She couldn't wait to talk to Henry about this. It was ludicrous that both of them were in love with idiots.

"No," he whispered. He began to trace patterns on the windowpane in front of him. "You know, my company is releasing a new video game next week—I designed it as a love letter to her. Every little detail has some aspect of something we had once discussed wanting to change. Even the title—Mercenary—that's how I feel. Without her in my life, it's devoid of any joy."

She bit back the comment that was at the tip of her tongue, that no woman in her right mind would find a video game to be a romantic gesture. But then she reminded herself, that this was Henry they were talking about, who wore jeans, lounged in sweats, and routinely kicked Chuck and Nate's ass on the PlayStation. And no matter what her personal opinion of those things were, the cadence in Matthew's voice was sincere. Blair was going to help him the way Henry had helped her.

"Do you love her?"

He looked at her strangely. "How is that even a question? I can't remember a moment in my life when I haven't loved her."

"It would behoove you to say those words to her," Blair scolded. "She told Chuck that you weren't still in love with her. Those are the type of misunderstandings that are best cleared up, immediately."

Matthew nodded. He appeared to her, completely immobilized. Finally, he asked in a morose tone, "How difficult is Chuck going to make things for me? Am I really never going to have a chance to speak to her, again?"

"Oh, he'll make it impossible," Blair announced. She could see he was so wrapped up in his own misery, that he didn't see the mischievous smile that played on her lips. "But fortunately for you, I'm his kryptonite. And I've decided that I'm going to help you."

The look of shock on his face was rather humorous. But when the shock turned into gratitude, it further cemented her belief that what she was about to do for him, would be the right thing for both him and Henry.

"So, this is my plan…"

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The distant ding of the private elevator alerted Blair to Chuck's return home, and broke her from recounting the events of last night.

"Blair?" He called out.

"In here," she answered back. She still sat curled up on a dining room chair.

When he appeared before her, he looked deliciously rumpled—his bow tie tucked into his breast pocket, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, a purplish bruise forming on his right eye and a tired smile on his face. He leaned against the wall and had a foil-wrapped plate in hand.

"I don't think I could ever get tired of seeing you in my clothes," Chuck said as his eyes lingered at the valley of her breasts—his silk robe was gaping and left very little to the imagination. He walked over and kissed her.

"I love coming home to you," he murmured against her lips.

Blair tugged on his coat lapels, her lips itching to make contact with his again. She sighed happily as his tongue slid into her mouth and danced with hers.

The clatter of the plate hitting the table drew her attention away from him. Pulling away, she looked curiously at it, before sending a questioning glance at him.

"Henry insisted that I bring you home the cake she baked three hours ago," Chuck explained. "Chocolate chip bundt cake."

"Uhm, thank you?" Blair said sarcastically, while eyeing the plate suspiciously. She stood up, taking the desert with her and walked into the kitchen. "I'll just leave it here, for later."

Chuck followed her, watching as she set it next to the refrigerator. When she turned, she didn't expect to find him directly behind her. He lifted her up, and sat her on the counter.

"You look tired," Blair observed, reaching out to rub her thumb across the darkening bruise on his cheek. "Did you get any sleep?"

He shrugged. "I dozed off a bit here and there, but her damn oven timer kept going off. She was elbow deep in making lasagna when I left."

She rolled her eyes, amused by the unexciting play-by-play of his night. "You weren't joking when you said she was a stress cooker."

He shook his head. He leaned over and tugged on a drawer, digging out a fork. Chuck unwrapped the foil from the plate, and stabbed at the cake, grabbing a forkful. As he lifted the dessert, precariously close to her lips, he told her, "Speaking of which, she made me promise that you'd take at least one bite. She thinks you'd lie and throw it away or give it to the help. She's feeling mother hen-ish, so humor her, and have a taste?"

"It looks like a bake sale item, Chuck!" Blair whined.

Before she could continue with her rant, Chuck shoved the fork in her mouth, and her eyes closed shut. Whatever that was, it was absolutely heavenly, "Omigod, this is sooo fucking good!"

He chuckled as she grabbed the fork out of his hand, and fed herself another bite. She ignored him as she savored the feel of the moist chocolate cake on her tongue. "I thought you might feel differently when you tasted it. When Hen was in between apartments and stayed with Nate and I for a couple of weeks, I think we each gained about ten pounds."

His words barely registered, as she went for her third taste. She pouted in displeasure when Chuck snatched the fork back, placing it on the plate and out of her reach. He leaned over, his tongue tracing the outline of her upper lip and whispered, "You have a little something, right there."

The combination of chocolate cake and Chuck were too irresistible, and she encircled her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, her legs firmly wrapping themselves around his waist. He kissed her possessively and when he pulled away from her, she tried to catch her breath.

Chuck trailed a finger at the V of the robe, and Blair trembled in anticipation. His hands untied the silken belt that was tied into a bow, leaving her completely exposed to his eyes. He teasingly trailed feather-light kisses from ear all the way down to her breasts. As his teeth fastened on her nipple, she hissed in pleasure, cradling his head closer to her.

"Is this where you make good on the promise from earlier last night? That if I kept my mouth shut, you'd make it more than worth my while?" Blair asked. She arched her back and moaned, as the pressure from Chuck's tongue and hands increased the wetness that flooded between her legs.

She felt the nod of his head against her chest, as his hands tried to loosen the vise-like grip her thighs had around his waist. She could guess the direction that Chuck was headed in, but she desperately wanted him inside of her.

"The minute you whispered those words in my ear, it was all I could do not to drag you into the stairwell and demand satisfaction. I could practically feel you fucking me already," she taunted.

Her hands trailed down to his waist and she fumbled with his belt buckle. He kissed her roughly, biting at her mouth while pulling at her hair. A moment later, he slid inside her, thrusting into her, again and again. There was no gentleness, as pure lust overtook them both. He pinned her wrists against the cabinets and drove into her again, until she chanted his name. She collapsed against him, and he followed soon after.

"God, I fucking love you, so much," Chuck breathed into her neck, when he regained the use of his voice. He pressed soft kisses against her slightly reddened wrists.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed.

As he spooned her in their bed, he said softly in her ear, "I'm sorry that your night was ruined, Blair."

"It's ok," she yawned back. "I know you didn't do it on purpose."

"I'll have to make it up to you," he said sleepily.

She shifted so she could bury her face in his chest and throw her leg over his. But before she could say a word, he was already fast asleep. She smiled and drifted with him.

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The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Blair's, staring back at him. A slow grin crossed his face, as he reached out and pulled her closer to him. There was still that slight thrill of excitement he felt when he woke up next to her, it definitely was remaining at the top of his all-time favorite sensations.

Blair's hands were freely roaming up and down his back, and he purred in contentment. .

"Morning." Her voice was muffled as she bit him playfully on the chest.

"What time is it?"

"Just past one."

"So we have enough time to linger before getting up," he hinted devilishly as his hands cupped her bottom. "At least for an hour?"

"That could be arranged…" her voice trailed off teasingly.

He wanted the luxury of doing nothing but enjoy his girlfriend on a lazy Sunday afternoon. And for the next hour, he set out to do exactly just that.

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"So, I know I told you that I would make it up to you about last night," Chuck started to say, almost two hours later. The hint of satisfaction oozed from his voice.

"But?"

"I don't think it's advisable to leave Hen to her own devices for the whole day."

Blair remained silent. Chuck buried his head into her curls, squeezing her body tightly against his, before continuing. "I never thanked you for handling the situation with Hugh. Were the police any trouble?"

Blair paused before answering. "Not at all."

He sighed. "Good. Did they arrest him? Neil filed a report?"

Again, he noticed her slow response. "It was all taken care of, Chuck. It's fine, don't worry about it."

"Let's call Serena and her boy toy, Nate and Henry. We can go grab drinks?" Chuck glanced at the clock that read 2:46 pm. "Or a very late lunch?"

"I think it's best if we leave Henry alone, she was practically begging you to leave yesterday—"

"Only because she felt as badly as I did, that your night was ruined," Chuck interrupted.

"Our night," Blair corrected. He could hear her eyes narrowing. "Besides, she's probably busy."

"Yeah, busy cooking," he snorted. "If we don't stop her, she'll literally have two weeks worth of food, including more cakes. We need Nate to take the bulk of her cooking—it'll be part of his punishment. Hen will push all that food onto us, you know."

Blair let out a forced laugh. She hesitated before answering, "I think we should just let her call us."

Her lack of enthusiasm could no longer be ignored. She was being far too evasive, which could only mean one thing—she knew something that he did not. He shifted their bodies, so that they were facing each other. Chuck tipped her chin so their eyes met. "What do you know, that you aren't telling me?"

Blair looked downwards. She outright refused to look at him before she mumbled her words, "I think Henry's going to be a bit occupied—talking to Hugh."

He shot up into a sitting position. "Why would you think that?"

When Blair didn't answer him, he jumped out of bed. Grabbing his phone, he started to pace the room. "I'll have to call fucking security. She doesn't need to deal with this shit, not after last night."

As he was scrolling through his phone, debating on calling Kevin at BI or Neil at The Palace, Blair dropped yet another bomb on him, "I doubt that's going to help, considering Hugh has a copy of the key to Henry's apartment."

"Do not tell me what I'm thinking right now is true."

"I gave him your copy of her apartment key," she told him in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Are you fucking out of your mind?" Chuck hissed. "How could you do that to her? To me? I have to get over there."

He stalked over to his closet, pulling on the first pair of pants he found. As he reached for a shirt, Blair followed him and placed a hand on his arm.

"I know you're trying to protect her, but you're also inhibiting her from living her own life. He loves her, Chuck. He loves her the way you love me. I know she loves him the way I love you, so please, just let him explain.

"How can you trust him? Because he told you so?" He scoffed. Anger radiated through his body, he couldn't believe Blair had gone behind his back like this. He couldn't even look at her right now. He walked out of the closet and sat at the edge of the bed.

She stood in front of him and gripped his chin, trying to force him to look at her. He closed his eyes so he could avoid her mesmerizing ones, eyes that would convince him that she was right. When she burrowed her way onto his lap and rested her head on his shoulder, his body relaxed slightly. It was moments like this that unsettled him, how she could both be the cause and the cure for his anger.

"I know I can trust him," Blair said softly. "Because he's been carrying an engagement ring he bought for her nine years ago, before he ever knew she was pregnant. It's been sitting in his pocket for the past four years. He's been waiting you know, he thought she was happy with you. But ever since he saw her at her parents' grave with you, the second time you went, he's had the ring in his pocket, just hoping for a chance."

Chuck's body tensed up. He knew that all too familiar feeling—carrying around a ring he could only pray he'd earn the opportunity to present to her again.

Translating his silence as an indicator to continue, Blair said, "I know I can trust him, because in the two hours I spent talking to him last night, he convinced me that he loves her and that he hasn't stopped for one moment. And much like someone else I know, he doesn't think he deserves her."

Despite the fact that he knew exactly what she was hinting at, he chose to be unreasonable. He accused her, "You're taking the side of someone you spent two hours talking to over someone I've known for four years?"

With a look of annoyance she snapped, "How long did Henry know me, before she handed me your house key? I've heard their history from both of them—they match, Chuck, and I believe him. If I believe him, that should be good enough. Or are you now starting to question my judgment, too?"

"It's not your ability to assess his character I'm questioning. You should've asked me first before you handed out Hen's key to him. You know how I felt, what I said to her when I found out she went behind my back by giving you my key!" He said in exasperation.

"Why are you so upset? It worked out to your advantage, we're together. I know Henry wants to be with him, she's told me she's still in love with him. And now, I know Hugh still loves her and wants to be with her. Why can't you let him try to make it up to her?"

"Because, I can never make it up to you!" Chuck felt the color drain from his face as he realized the words that he said. He gently pushed Blair off of him and stood up as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Chuck!" Blair said sadly. "I thought we were putting this behind us."

"I'm trying," he said tersely. "But I need to be alone right now."

Gently, Blair asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

"What?" Chuck sputtered. "Of course not."

He started to pace again, he didn't know quite how to explain it to her. It still infuriated him the manner in which she unveiled her actions to him. He just needed a spot of time to sulk and pout. But the last thing he wanted was for her to not be close by. Knowing him, he'd want to crawl back into bed with her, and rest his head on her stomach, as she soothingly stroked his hair. Even though she was the source of his aggravation, she was the only one who could make it go away. His eyes closed briefly. "I'll be in the office down the hall for the next couple of hours."

Blair nodded.

In a slightly bitter tone, he continued, "If, as you say, Henry will be occupied for the evening—and don't think that I'm not going to send security to camp outside her building—that'll leave us free for dinner."

He had to set aside the issue with the key and Hugh, for now. It was completely separate from Blair's spoiled evening, last night. In a couple of hours the sting would wear off, and Chuck knew this—just as he knew he was at least slightly overreacting to begin with. He paused. "Tonight is the 10th anniversary of Per Se*, and while it won't have the same cache as last night's charity event, I'm assuming there won't be as much excitement either. If it's amenable to you, I'd love for you to be my date."

Blair's beaming smile reassured him that things were going to be ok.

Two steps forward, one step back.

"I'd love too," she said serenely.

He walked across the bedroom and pressed a kiss on her cheek, before heading towards the door. Just as she was about to enter the bathroom, he called over his shoulder, "Oh, and Blair?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

.

.

.

tbc

*technically, it'd be their 11th year anniversary, and a few months shy, but I took liberty on a small detail, because it worked for me, please forgive me.

A/N: Deepest apologies for taking so long. This fic has not been abandoned, there has just been lots of outlining going on—extremely detailed outlines leaving my brain and being committed to paper so that the final chapters are as tight as possible. The next chapter should be up in about a week. And seriously, even though it's apparently my favorite number, I have it at 3 more chapters and then an epilogue. Excuse me if there are more typos than usual, I'm literally falling asleep as we speak, so I may have missed more than usual.

For my beta, Noirreigne, who tirelessly works on helping make my fic better, I cannot thank you enough.

For my omega, Ilu, thank you for being my timeline enforcer.

For the readers and reviewers who are still reading my story and enjoying it, THANKS! You really do motivate me, and I appreciate your time.

I am still for the most part delightfully oblivious to what's going on in GG, including the promo—NO I haven't watched it…and I won't! So, please, no comments about events post 4x11.