Nate and Serena still hadn't decided on a maid. They'd been far too busy in their bedroom – in every room of their new penthouse, in fact – to trouble themselves with such boring domestic decisions. When they'd finally lifted themselves out of bed this morning, they'd been a little thrown to find their own kitchen cupboards all bare. So they were brunching at the van der Woodsens' yet again.

Really, Lily reflected, it was a miracle they'd even managed to get themselves dressed and over here. She supposed their stomachs had won out in the end.

They were mid-devouring pancakes when the elevator went.

"Serena. Sorry for interrupting."

Chuck didn't look sorry – he looked a wreck. His crisp suit did nothing to disguise how ravaged his face was.

Nate and Serena exchanged a glance, bewildered. "Are you all right? Where's Blair?" It wasn't like Chuck would ever come to see them without her.

Serena had actually sent Georgie packing the other day; the other girl kept popping up and demanding to know where Blair was. She'd been particularly rude yesterday, so that Serena had finally snapped that she was sure Blair was enjoying herself with Chuck. And it was none of Georgie's business. Serena never snapped; but she'd never liked Georgie anyway. And she usually liked everyone. She'd heard enough of the comments Georgie had made about Chuck before – and she was pretty sure her best friend would be better off without Georgie's constant interference and criticism.

Chuck's eyes had narrowed. "She's not here, then?" His gaze was already sweeping the room, face unreadable.

"No," Serena frowned a little. So Blair hadn't been with Chuck all this time? "What's going on?"

Chuck was aware of Lily and Nate still in the room.

"I need to talk to you," he said brusquely. Surely Serena knew. He glanced at the blonde; her face was still puckered in confusion. She had to know. "About Carter."

But Serena's face was still blank.

She didn't know, he realised. The amount of times Blair had hauled her drunken ass out of joints, stopped her going home with not just one but groups of men – and Blair hadn't even told her? He'd been expecting her to hide out at the blonde's. But if not even Serena knew where she was now -

"What about Carter?" Nate was frowning too. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Chuck snapped. "I just need to find her." He realised they were all staring at him. "We have dinner with Bart later. He won't be pleased if I show up by myself." His voice was tight.

Serena was still trying to work it out. "Did you two have a fight?" she asked, worried.

"No." It was little more than a snarl. (A fight would involve her actually being here, after all). "I just wanted to know if you'd seen her."

Nate had noticed the odd clench of his jaw and white face. He might have been trying to act otherwise, but he actually looked worried.

"We'll help you find her," he announced; Chuck just gave him a look. But he saw genuine concern in the blond's eyes. He really did want to help.

"Just," he managed, curt, "Tell me if she turns up here." He turned and walked out before either of them could add anything else.

Lily caught him before he got into the elevator. They were out of Nate and Serena's earshot, and despite the haze of drink she usually numbed herself with these days, she hadn't failed to notice the state he was in either.

It was funny – a couple of years ago, she'd actually had a brief affair with his father. She remembered Bart Bass all too well. If it hadn't been for Eric, she might even be married to him now. And the hollow young man standing before her might even have been her stepson.

He was nothing like her own son. Hard and angular where Eric had been soft, darker hair and darker, older eyes. But his pale face looked so lost as he stood by the elevator that she felt something painful stir somewhere familiar.

Perhaps all her confinement had unhinged her a little. Giving advice to a boy she barely knew; even if she felt like she did. Because even if she didn't have a son any more, she was still a mother. And even if that boy didn't have a mother any more, he was still a son.

"Where is she?"

He stared at the elevator doors for a moment. "I don't know," he growled at last.

"So why aren't you looking for her?"

He stiffened. He looked like he was about to ask what business of hers it was; instead he shook his head. "She doesn't want to be found."

Lily sighed. "Charles?" She glanced at him. "Go bring her home."

"Blair." Georgina's teeth were ground as she spoke into the telephone receiver. "I'd like to leave another message for Blair. Tell her that she's being ridiculous. I don't know where the hell she's gone, but I'm waiting. She knows she has to come home sooner or later."

And when she did, Georgina would be there.

"Miss Georgina," Dorota sighed, "I tell you-"

She paused. The figure waiting in the hallway was a man, not a girl. And it wasn't Mr. Chuck.

"Can I help?" she asked very cautiously.

"I'm looking for Blair."

The maid raised her eyes heavenwards. "And I tell you same thing I tell everyone else. Miss Blair not here. I not know where she is."

"I need to talk to her," the man snapped. "It's important."

"Yes, yes," Dorota muttered. "Important for everyone else too. She not here. If she come home, I pass on message. Mr-?"

"Baizen," the man snarled. "Carter Baizen."

Carter had enjoyed fucking Blair Waldorf. Initially.

He'd fucked her to fuck Chuck. Sure, there was something hot about a girl as uptight as she was coming undone. He remembered her vaguely as a kid; she'd sure as hell grown up when he pulled her onto the mattress with him and his hands found those small full breasts under her dress. When those brown eyes were closed, head arched back as he entered her.

But what he'd really enjoyed was knowing what it would do to Chuck.

Chuck had fucking betrayed him and tried to go off with Fabiano, of all people. At that stage Carter hadn't known about the money – just that Chuck had gone behind his back. So how would Chuck like it when his precious Blair was in between Carter's thighs? If Carter believed in signs, then her coming to Gimlet that night would have been just that. It was an opportunity too good to pass up.

It had started off with all the sweetness of revenge.

The morning after that first night, she'd picked up her dress from his bedroom floor and tried to creep out. He hadn't planned on stopping her. He'd got his revenge. But then he'd made the mistake of glancing at her pale face from his position on his bed. And it had made him feel...bad. He didn't understand the savage twist of guilt. Carter Baizen never felt guilt. So he'd stopped her.

"Leaving so soon?"

He'd still been naked as he'd wrapped an arm around her waist and started kissing her neck. She hadn't tasted as sweet as she had last night, so he'd kissed harder and slipped his hand back into her panties, pulling her against his bare thighs. He'd had her on the verge of coming right there – and she'd turned suddenly, pushing him away. Pushing him down onto the mattress as her body had crashed into his. Her lips had been cold against his chest.

He kept sneaking around with her because he didn't want to feel bad about what he was doing to Chuck. Because, he told himself, it had nothing to do with Chuck. It meant nothing to either of them, so what was the problem? She was hot and she wanted sex. She wasn't the little girl that Chuck had used to play with. She was just another tight body and a warm mouth, and she was using him as much as he was her.

She never spent the night, and she never looked at him when she came. She never looked at him at all.

And then one night she'd showed up at Gimlet when Chuck was there. Carter had pushed her out of the door before Chuck could see; Chuck had been busy with his girl of the night, in any case. Carter had called the car round. She'd said nothing as they both climbed in. Her kisses had been even hotter that night, her grip even tighter and her eyes closed the whole time. He'd told himself she really knew how to let loose.

That same night after they'd finished, he'd gone to get a drink. She usually took that opportunity to leave. But he hadn't been able to find a glass, so he'd gone back into the room.

And that was when he'd seen her.

She was curled on her side, cheek pressed into the pillow. The material had muffled her sobs. Because she'd seen Chuck, he knew. He'd turned and walked straight back out; and he waited till she left before he entered his room again. The pillow had still been damp.

Not some girl crying on his bed. Blair Waldorf.

He hadn't wanted anything to do with her after that. (He'd wanted to erase all of it). He'd planned on telling her it was over. When he didn't hear from her for a week, he suddenly wondered if she'd done something stupid.

He'd gone round to her penthouse – the last place he'd wanted to be – to find her pale and upright in pearls and a high collar. He'd wondered if his love bites still marked her neck. She'd told him to get out. And there had been an odd, cold light in her eyes as she'd told him it had never happened; that if he ever forgot that or breathed a word of it to anyone, she'd tell them all he'd forced himself on her. He'd had no intention of ever letting it get out anyway. He'd been more than happy – relieved, in fact - to go along with acting like they'd never so much as spoken, let alone spent several nights fooling around.

He'd thought if he could push her and Chuck together then it really wouldn't matter any more. He'd thought it would stay buried forever. He hadn't counted on Georgina fucking Sparks.

He needed to find Blair.

"All right, doll?"

Blair ignored the leer as she pulled her coat a little closer, forcing down the watery tea because it was hot. She'd been shivering too hard in the freezing hotel room last night to get any proper sleep. And she hadn't been warm since.

She'd picked the hotel because she knew no one would find her there. (Even as she'd wondered why he'd even be looking). She hadn't counted on it not having any heating. Which was the only reason she felt cold to her bone. And the only reason she hadn't slept last night.

Still, she'd only be here one more night.

She'd run away with no plan of where she was actually going; the sad truth was, she didn't know where to go. She didn't have anywhere to go. But she knew now that she wanted to get out of this city. She'd stupidly run away without taking enough money – she'd been more concerned with getting out of the suite before Chuck got back, and she'd figured she could access her account later - and she'd had to pawn the ruby ring Harold had given her to buy a ticket to France. But she hadn't wanted the ring any more anyway.

(And she hadn't been able to bring herself to pawn her wedding ring, even though she knew it was pointless now. It hurt too much on her finger.)

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

The man was greasy and stubbly and she felt sick just looking at him. She remembered Carter asking her the same thing when she'd showed up at Gimlet two years ago. She'd never answered him - she'd told herself she didn't know. By the end of the night the outcome had been the same anyway. Blair Waldorf was dead and buried. She'd told herself that was what she'd wanted all along.

She swallowed more of her tea now, gripping the handle tight.

She'd be out of here by tomorrow morning.

Harold was taken by surprise when he arrived home and a girl practically pounced on him. It took him a moment to recognise her as one of Blair's friends.

"Mr. Waldorf, I was just wondering-"

"Where's Blair?"

Harold blinked as he recognised the other voice. Carter Baizen stood on the other side of the foyer, though it was clear he and Georgina were ignoring each other.

Just seeing Carter made Harold feel decidedly queasy. "Listen here, Mr. Baizen. You got your money-"

"I'm not here about that," the man snarled. "Your daughter's gone missing, you fool."

Harold blinked again. "What?"

He hadn't seen Blair since she'd found out the truth about the unfortunate gambling incident, but he'd told himself he'd done all he could and he should probably give her some space. He'd given her the money and he'd made it right – hadn't he?

Georgina rolled her eyes in irritation. "She hasn't been seen since the day after Nate and Serena's wedding. Neither has Chuck."

Not entirely true, Carter knew. The skin around his eye was still purple from Chuck's fist.

"Perhaps they're still working on the divorce-"

"They never got a divorce," Carter cut in, incredulous. Was the man really that clueless? He should have known coming here would just be one big waste of time. The problem was, he had no idea where else to look.

"What?" Harold looked thoroughly confused. "But-"

"Oh good God," Georgie hissed. "Why are we even bothering? Don't worry, Mr. Waldorf. Go back to burying your head in the sand."

The man was shocked – Georgie had never been anything but polite and charming when he was around. "Is she ok?" he asked at last, eyes sliding between the two of them. "I- what can I do?"

"What you always do," Carter sighed. "Nothing."

There was contempt in Georgie's voice. "Best not to change a habit of a lifetime." They both swept out without a backwards glance.

But once they reached the elevator, Carter's eyes narrowed in loathing as he noticed Georgie reaching for the same button. "I think I'll take the stairs. I'd rather not share with a dog."

"My sentiments exactly. Nice shiner, by the way. Chuck must have enjoyed that one."

She smirked coldly as the doors closed.

Carter's expensive loafers echoed on the stairs, and with each step he cursed that bitch in the elevator.

Where the hell could Blair possibly have gone? If not to anyone she knew, then surely to a hotel. But he'd put round word at all the big hotels already - if she turned up, he'd hear about it. She was clearly hiding, but she couldn't have left the city; not like this.

No one had seen her. Where could she possibly go in Manhattan where she wouldn't be seen? Out of his reach - out of Chuck's reach, especially?

He paused a moment, mid-step as an idea formed.

Where had Georgie gone when she didn't want to be seen? Where, in fact, was the last place anyone would think of looking for Blair Waldorf?

Blair tucked the thin blanket around her, as tight as it would go; but it wasn't doing anything. Her fingers were numb as she curled into a ball on the hard bed.

I love you.

She could still see his black eyes in the darkness of his room - and the memory of his face as he'd come in from the balcony, as his eyes met hers - she'd retched into the rusty sink, but her stomach was empty. She wished her thoughts could be empty too.

She wanted her mind to be blank, and still she tortured herself wondering if his hands were clenched around a scotch glass right now.

She'd never realised she could be such a coward. She'd never realised how easy it would be for her to run and hide like a scared little dog. Blair Waldorf wasn't supposed to run away. She hadn't run away two years ago. She'd stayed - and maybe that had been her mistake. Maybe this was all just long overdue. She should have run. If she'd run then, at least she'd have had a head start.

The sun was just beginning to rise, watery over a cold horizon. Spring was slowly on its way; but March was proving exceptionally cold this year. The fierce wind that whipped through Manhattan's grey streets now went unnoticed by most of its inhabitants, who were still tucked up in bed.

The man behind the desk glanced up, bleary eyed, as the door of the deserted lobby swung open. The hotel didn't do roaring business at the best of times - who the hell was checking in this early?

Someone else who didn't look like he belonged here. Suit-wise, at least. Because his eyes were more shadowed than the most raging of the drunks that ended up on the hotel's door.

"I'm looking for a girl." He didn't smile. His voice was clipped, low in the pale light.

The clerk rubbed his eyes tiredly. "This ain't that kinda establishment. If you try just down the street-"

"A specific girl. She might have been staying here."

That did make the other man pause. He studied the figure before him carefully. He could only have been talking about one girl - he looked about as well-dressed as she'd been. "I don't want any trouble."

"Is she here or not?"

"She was," the clerk sighed. "She checked out about half an hour ago."

The man's jaw clenched. "Where was she going?"

He received a shrug. "No idea, sir." There was a drunken snore from one of drunks leaning against a table; the clerk glanced at him. "But between you and me, I hope it was a long way from here."

Georgie leaned forwards to speak to her driver, eyes never leaving the figure ahead. She could make out the brim of his hat as he climbed into his own car.

"Follow him. Don't let him out of your sight."

She'd seen Carter leave the Waldorfs far too purposefully and had been tailing him ever since. She was sure she knew exactly why he wanted to find Blair so much - and she was going to beat him to it. She was damned if Carter got in his version of events first.

The same wind rushing the city now whistled over the New York airstrip. A small handful of passengers waited in the building while their documents were checked and their luggage loaded onto the tiny aircraft. Most were businessmen; and Blair, who hadn't been able to stop shivering even though she was out of the hotel now. She handed over her passport and filed out of the door last, bracing herself against the icy breeze. It felt even stronger on the wide stretch of runway.

She'd never flown before; she felt a lump of nausea as she regarded the shining metal that would be lifting her hundreds of feet above the ground in just a few moments. It looked somehow impossibly small against the strength of the wind, and impossibly heavy at the same time – how would it possibly stay in the air?

Everything suddenly felt too strange and unfamiliar. She wanted to – what? Cry? She hadn't even taken off yet, and already the thought of leaving Manhattan behind was making her want to throw up. She didn't want to strap herself in that lump of metal with a group of strangers. She swallowed, hard, and tightened her grip on her bag. She was being ushered along by the ground stewards now, and the aeroplane was blurring in front of her. Her gaze moved blindly over the runway, panic fusing with dread and an unbearable loneliness -

And then she saw the figure standing aside from the aeroplane. There was a car, she realised, just off the runway – but the man in front of her was suddenly the only thing she could see.

The collar of his coat was turned up against the wind, his hat tipped down over his eyes. But he raised his head to look at her – and she'd know the slant of that cheekbone and that dark gaze anywhere.

Her voice stuck in her throat, lost in the wind.

"Chuck."

A/N - Ok. I know I promised C/B interaction in this chapter...I'm sorry! I promise promise next chapter is pure CB. And will hopefully be up soon. Promise!

I just wanted to say thank you so, so much for some of the lovely feedback I got for the last chapter. Particularly to the lovely long review that I couldn't reply to as it was anonymous – you are most definitely not a terrible reviewer, thank you so much for taking the time to write it! You have no idea how happy it made me. Also foreverfaith319, your theory was pretty much spot on; I'm so glad it makes sense to you :) I was kind of worried everyone would hate this fic after what happened – it was one of my original premises for the story, so it was always going to come. I hope that this chapter and the next one will make it a little clearer for those of you who don't agree with the Blair/Carter thing – and thank you for sticking it out anyway! Seriously, you are all so amazing.

I also just wanted to clarify what I meant about Blair being 'pure'. For me, at least, being a virgin does not make a girl any more or less 'pure'. I've never thought of myself as remotely feminist, but that idea really, really gets to me. S1 Blair, IMO, never had a healthy relationship with sex – until Victrola, that is – because whether or not she was abstaining or throwing herself at Nate, it was all about control. Not enjoyment. I mean, it's not that simple because underneath all of that is the fact that Blair is essentially a romantic; but the way I saw it, her need for control was what was driving most of her thoughts about sex. All I meant by my comment in the last chapter was that this is not why I admire Blair's character as much as I do. For me, her 'purity' comes from how much she loves the people she loves; that's pure to me. Sorry for the rant, this is just something I feel really strongly about. (And I don't feel that strongly about many things lol.) I hope it makes sense!