AN: A thousand sincere apologies for the wait. Exams got in the way, and when they were done, a five-week trip to Quebec. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait, and that you enjoy the rest of the journey I have planned.
Enormous thanks to my reviewers and readers (if I have any left!), and to bethaboo, as always.
"Green, Serena. His eyes are green."
"I know, but you didn't even ask for a paternity test—"
"I can ask for one later."
"But—"
Serena trails off, catching sight of Chuck's hopeful expression. He is on the edge of his seat, wearing an expression of trepidation and gleefulness all at once. And Serena cannot bring herself to tell him that the baby in the hospital room is his son. There is no other alternative. To her knowledge, Chuck had been the only one Jenny had slept with before departing for Hudson.
The true reason he does not want a paternity test is not because of time constraints, although she expects that Chuck is in a hurry to tell Blair. The true reason he does not want a paternity test is because this is all the hope he has left.
Serena smiles weakly at Chuck, knowing that the hope he has is false.
"Don't deny it, Serena. You know as well as I do that that baby looks nothing like me."
Serena nods, agreeing that the baby does not look like Chuck in the slightest. Come to think of it, she has not recalled Jenny ever saying that Chuck is the father. Searching through her memories of the past few days, searching for the one piece of confirmation that would dash Chuck's hopes but reaffirm her convictions, Serena finds that she cannot come up with a single situation. Granted, she is tired, but she honestly cannot remember Jenny saying that Chuck is the father. Jenny had always shut the conversation down quickly whenever his name was mentioned. She had also been evasive whenever the subject of the baby's father had come up—at the time, Serena had attributed it to the fact that her and Chuck's actions had caused such a catastrophe to follow. But now, as she watches the hope unfold in Chuck's expression, she wonders if it is because Jenny herself is unsure of the paternity.
Maybe a little hope isn't so bad, Serena thinks.
…
"Blair?"
She freezes when she hears her name echoing around the foyer. Hairbrush in hand, she sets it down on her vanity as quietly as she can manage. With Dorota gone for the night, she is completely alone.
But Chuck doesn't have to know that she is here at all.
The overhead light is shut off with a quiet click, and Blair tiptoes to the inside of her darkened closet. Finding refuge amongst tweed skirts and silk blouses, she sinks to the floor and waits.
There is a muffled conversation going on below her, but she cannot make out the words—only a distinctly masculine voice - Chuck - and a feminine one. She assumes the latter is Serena, which immediately intrigues her. Serena in New York would mean that Dan had returned as well.
Meaning that Chuck had been successful in convincing Jenny to keep the baby.
The thought is like a dead weight in her heart, weighing down her emotions and prompting a flood of tears to prick at her eyelids. Squeezing her eyes closed, Blair wills herself not to cry. Because even in the privacy of her own closet, the shame is present.
It had been her decision to convince Chuck to see Jenny. She had not been afraid of Chuck confessing his love for the girl once he had seen his child. She had never been afraid of losing him to her.
She had been afraid of losing him to him. To the tiny baby she had yet to properly meet, or even see. The baby that is the only innocent in this horrid situation.
The baby whose parents were Chuck Bass and Jenny Humphrey.
But this is the right decision, Blair tells herself. This is perhaps the most selfless thing she has ever done. And it hurts. It is the only way to describe the perpetual torment that twists through her being every time she even thinks about the future.
Because, once upon a time, the Princess had a future with a White Knight, a castle, and a happily ever after. The naivety of the Princess' future was not lost on the Dark Prince, who sought to possess the Princess herself. And once the Prince had fallen in love with the Princess, there was no going back.
She had tried—vainly—to imagine a future without Chuck Bass. Once, she had set her heart on being without him forever, deeming an incident too formidable to ever overcome. But they had done it. She still didn't fully grasp how, but she knew they had overcome what they had once believed to be their greatest obstacle.
But this is different. This is not a hotel, this is not about trust, nor love, nor jealousies, or Princes and three words, eight letters. This is a living, breathing, child who will want to know his father as he grows up. And Blair will accept this, because she has seen what it is like to grow up with only one parent.
And Blair knows that Chuck would never wish his childhood on anyone.
Reassured that her decision had been the right one, Blair allows herself to tiptoe towards her bedroom door, which is still partially open. From there, she can hear everything going on below. Chuck and Serena's voices carry up perfectly, though for some strange reason, they are both talking in whispers.
"Let's go." Serena's voice is pleading, and Blair can almost picture the puppy-dog expression that no doubt comes with the tone of her voice.
"She's here, Serena." And the sentence draws her to polar opposites of the spectrum. On one hand, she is almost elated—her and Chuck have always had something just beyond comprehensible. On the other hand, it is unfortunate that he has realized this, because it means that he will not leave.
A determined Chuck Bass is someone she has had far too much experience with. And she knows as well as anyone that his tone speaks of determination.
"She's not," Serena insists. "If she were here, the lights wouldn't be off."
"Dorota's gone home for the night," Chuck shoots back.
"She's not here," Serena says tiredly. "Let's go home, Chuck. I'll come back in the morning—"
"We'll come back in the morning," Serena corrects quickly.
"She—"
"She's not here. I don't know where she is, but she's not here, Chuck," Serena says gently.
There is no response from Chuck, and Blair breathes a quiet sigh of relief as she awaits the distinctive sound of the two of them reentering the elevator.
But she mistakes Chuck's silence as a sign of surrender. Perhaps it is her heart, beating incredibly loudly in her ears, but she doesn't hear the quiet ascent of Bottegas on marble steps.
"Waldorf."
The voice seems incredibly close to her ear, but when Blair jumps back, knocking her elbow into the doorframe, she realizes it is because Chuck is a mere three feet from her, and has the apparent ability to sneak up in front of her without her noticing.
"Chuck? What—" Serena reaches the landing, looking from Chuck to Blair in surprise.
"What did I say?" Chuck asks smugly.
"B!" Serena exclaims, bounding forward to hug her best friend.
"S," Blair returns, accepting the hug whilst glaring at Chuck over Serena's mane of blonde hair.
"Why didn't you—" Serena begins, when she finally releases Blair. Chuck maintains his distance, although his smug expression has almost morphed into one of yearning.
Almost.
"If it wasn't already clear by my hiding up here," Blair says with a frown, "then I'll make it clear now. I'm not in the mood for visitors, let alone him."
Though slightly relieved that Blair hadn't included her in the exclusion, Serena turns immediately to Chuck with a sympathetic frown. Noting that his expression betrays nothing but impassiveness, she has to give credit to her stepbrother, who has always remained the most level-headed in any situation.
She supposes having Bart Bass as your father could do that to you.
"I'll send him back," Serena promises, already beginning to move towards Chuck.
"Wait," Chuck protests. "Blair—"
"No." Blair shakes her head fiercely. "There's nothing more to be said, Chuck. Go home."
Her cruelty is surprising to them both, but one glance at her face and Serena knows that saying the words is breaking Blair as much as it is killing Chuck.
"You don't mean that," he says quietly. Blair begins to protest, but he forges on quickly, getting the words out before she can contradict them. "Blair, I was right all along."
"Right about what?" Her curiosity outstrips her resolve, and Chuck allows himself a half-smile.
"The baby. It's not mine. It can't be mine, Blair."
The minute amount of hope that Blair had allowed to cross her features is erased almost immediately.
"No. No, Chuck. You don't get to play me like that. No more lies. I can't—"
"This is the truth," Chuck insists. "The baby's not mine, Blair. I know it."
"He has green eyes," Serena supplies, and both Chuck and Blair look at her in surprise, as if they had forgotten the blonde in their midst.
Because a blonde in a brightly patterned coat and carrying a cheery yellow Chloé is very difficult to miss.
Blair turns to Chuck for confirmation, and he nods in agreement, his eyes seeking hers almost desperately.
And hope blossoms in Blair's own expression and overtakes her entire being, breathing life into her. It's a hope she dared not touch, but proves to be far more compelling now.
Chuck makes his move then, taking her hand in his as Serena watches on in utter fascination. They have forgotten her entirely now, leaving her to marvel at the way they seem to be connected in something that extends past the physical sense.
At first, Blair looks as if she will pull away, and the deadened, resigned look will return to her eyes. For a moment, Serena thinks Blair will push him away—instead, she wraps her dainty fingers around his, entwining their fingers together in an action so intimate Serena feels as though she is intruding.
And when Blair looks at him, the hope in her eyes is so desperate it breaks Serena's heart.
Because the possibility of Jenny's baby's father not being Chuck is slim to none. And Serena's heart constricts slightly at the thought of Blair being hurt yet again.
"We don't know for sure," Serena interjects, interrupting the moment. She is on the receiving end of a harsh glare, but she knows she has to do this. To protect Blair. "We don't know if Chuck's the father, or if—"
"I'm not," Chuck retorts vehemently. "I'm not the father," turning to Blair, his expression turns pleading, "and if you need proof, we'll ask Jenny for a paternity test."
And just as suddenly as hope had sprung to her eyes, it leaves, replaced by a hardened reality that Blair knows all too well. She is unsure as to why Chuck is so sure he is not the father—the eyes alone is not enough proof.
"You didn't even get a paternity test? And what if it's not?" Blair whispers, stepping away from Chuck. The loss of contact is apparent to both of them, but she continues to step towards Serena. "If the baby really is yours?"
Chuck is momentarily at a loss for words, but recovers quickly. "We can get past this, Blair. I—I wanted to tell you before I asked for one. But he's not mine. I know it."
"No." She shakes her head vehemently, angry with Chuck for implanting this false hope, but mostly, she is furious with herself for allowing herself to hope. "Don't make this harder than it is, Chuck."
"I know that baby isn't mine," Chuck says, his tone bordering on manic. "She probably slept with some other guy after me, it's his. It's not mine. We—I—used protection. It's not fucking mine. Please, Blair—"
"Chuck," Serena says with a pitying expression as Blair merely stares at him in slight alarm. "Chuck, maybe you should—"
"I can't deal with this," Blair declares, her voice oddly high-pitched. "Not right now, not after the day I've—"
"Chuck, go home," Serena insists, leading Blair towards her bedroom. But the girl needs no help, shrugging off Serena's hand and closing the door, locking it behind her.
"I'm not leaving—"
"You're making this worse," Serena says gently. "Come back tomorrow, I'll take care of B tonight."
"I—"
"Home, Chuck."
"I don't have a home," he says hollowly, his voice rife with sneering derision.
Serena's heart breaks for him, but at the sound of quiet sobs, she turns towards Blair's door instead.
"B?" she knocks quietly, knowing that Blair is just on the other side of the door. "B, I'm here."
The door swings open and Serena rushes to hug her best friend.
Blair's quiet sobs fill her ears and her shaking shoulders fill her arms, but before she leads Blair back into her room, Serena hears the unmistakable ding of an elevator a floor below them.
…
"I don't know," Serena exhales quietly, glancing over at her sleeping best friend.
"They'll figure things out," Dan promises her, but it is an empty promise that does nothing to quell her fears.
"If you say so," Serena deadpans, rubbing her eyes. She is exhausted by this entire situation to the point where she would renounce her entire trust if someone would produce a magical solution to all of their problems. As it stands, she is stuck knee-deep in a mess so tangled she doesn't know where to begin. "How's Jenny?"
"Good," Dan says shortly. "She and the baby are home now. The doctor said it was fine, and I think Jenny just wanted out of that place."
"I don't blame her," Serena mutters. "How's the baby?"
"Still nameless," Dan jokes, but it falls flat. "Before she said she didn't want to name him because she was giving him up. But after Chuck and Blair managed to convince her otherwise…well, we're all getting a bit tired of calling him 'the baby'."
"Give her time," Serena suggests. She figures Jenny is probably weighing the name situation too heavily, wanting to give her child the perfect name, yet unsure as to what that name is. It isn't like she'd had months to choose a name. She had mentally prepared to give up her child instead.
"We all know what his name is going to be, though," Dan argues. "Owen. She's always wanted to name her first boy Owen."
"Owen Ba—" Serena stops herself short, because in light of Chuck's conviction that the child is not his, she has to wonder what last name the baby will take.
"I'm not too keen on him having Bass as a last name either," Dan says with a sigh. "But Chuck—Chuck's been…well, to use my mother's words, he's been admirable." Dan's tone is part disgust and part mystification, and Serena has to giggle slightly at the words.
"You can't fault him for anything that's happened," Serena reminds him.
"I know," Dan exhales. "I don't blame Chuck—or Blair—anymore. If you—if you see them before I'm back in New York, thank them for me. What they did—"
"Destroyed them, but saved Jenny's baby," Serena says flatly.
"They—"
"It isn't her fault either," Serena says quickly. "It's just…Dan, they've come so far, and this has destroyed them."
"I wish it didn't—"
"Me too," Serena interrupts. "I wish this had happened to someone else. I'd even dare to say you and I, because Chuck and Blair…they don't deserve this. Not after all they've been through."
Dan's agreement is almost frightened, and Serena guesses that the possibility of her being pregnant is a bit too much to handle at this point. But before Dan can formulate whole sentences, Blair begins to stir, and Serena knows that tea, croissants, and Audrey are imminent.
"I'll talk to you soon," she promises Dan. "Love you."
She nearly cuts off his repeated sentiment in her haste to ready a suitable breakfast before Blair wakes.
Because Dan is her boyfriend—and quite possibly the love of her life—but Blair is her sister.
And as Serena rushes down the marble steps, mulling over the conversation as she goes, realization hits her as she turns towards the kitchen.
Perhaps, Jenny is putting off naming the baby because she is unsure as to the last name of her child—meaning that she is as unsure about the baby's paternity as they are.
It is a far-fetched idea, and one Serena knows she must not bring up to Blair, lest she feed the false hope that had almost imprisoned her best friend.
But as Serena places two freshly-baked croissants onto Blair's favorite blue-rimmed plates, she continues to allow herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, the baby isn't Chuck's.
…
"Blair?"
"Nate."
Her voice is resigned, an almost defeated tone that matches her posture—slouched and worn out. Serena had abandoned her earlier, claiming lunch with Lily that she simply couldn't get out of. But from her harried expression and evasive answers, Blair knew that Serena was off to see Chuck—presumably to check if he were alive.
"I heard—" Nate clears his throat awkwardly. He doesn't know how to broach this topic, having been completely out of the loop with Serena, Chuck, and Blair, for the past week. He supposes the lack of communication between him, Chuck, and Blair, is of his own doing, but he had noticed—along with half of Manhattan—the lack of Gossip Girl updates on the two. When Lily informed him that Serena had gone up to Hudson with Dan, his stomach dropped and he had gone to Blair's place without thinking it completely through.
Come to think of it, he had never really thought anything through. He had, however, thought about calling, and his thumb had hovered over the Call button as he wrestled with indecision, ultimately closing his phone and lighting up yet again.
"Yes?" Blair is suddenly back to her old self, her polite tone laced with condescension and impatience.
"I heard Serena and Dan are up in Hudson," Nate finishes quickly. "I was—"
"We know," Blair tells him, her voice completely flat. "We saw the baby."
"It was born?" Nate asks in surprise. He hadn't expected daily updates from Jenny, but he had presumed she would call once she'd had the baby. He's not sure if it's the shock, or the five miles he had run that morning, but his legs seem to collapse under him as he slumps beside Blair on the couch.
"I th—yes," Blair says in irritation. "That's usually what happens when someone is pregnant, Nate."
Nate ducks his head and Blair smiles slightly—the exchange reminds her of times when teasing Nate came as second nature. Chuck would back her up and provide a smirk or remark of his own. Serena, of course, would stalwartly defend Nate, or simply laugh, a bubbly, exuberant laugh that the other three couldn't help but join in on.
"She really did have the baby then," Nate says in slight wonder. "Did she give him up?"
Blair hesitates, biting her lip as unwonted tears fill her eyes.
"Hey," Nate says awkwardly, touching her elbow as if attempting comfort. It is strange how this girl used to be the woman he imagined he would one day marry. It is strange how far they have come from junior year—strange how far they have grown apart, and yet, inexplicably closer.
"I'm fine," Blair mutters, but she allows him to put his arm around her, a move both unfamiliar and commonplace at once.
"I'm sorry," Nate supplies, but it is a futile apology. "I didn't want to tell—"
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Blair tells him with a laugh, her head on his shoulder. It is comforting in the sense that they no longer have any romantic feelings for each other—but the familiarity is welcome in this foreign situation. "If it weren't for Dan Humphrey, of all people, Chuck and I would never have found out. You and Serena are either too sympathetic to Little J's feelings, or too protective of us."
"I know." Nate shrugs. "I'm sorry anyways. I knew you and Ch—I knew you were happy."
"We were happy," Blair agrees sadly. "We—" and somehow, he doesn't need confirmation that she is talking about him and her, and not her and Chuck. "We were happy once too."
Nate takes a moment to contemplate this statement.
"I don't think so," he starts slowly.
"No?" Blair asks, confusion coloring her tone.
"If we were happy, you wouldn't have slept with my best friend," Nate points out. His tone carries no bitterness, having come to terms with the situation a long time ago. It is odd, how he has simply accepted that Chuck and Blair were always meant to be—he had just been an unwelcome obstacle in the unpredictable course of their relationship.
"If we were happy you wouldn't have cheated on me with my best friend," Blair replies with a sigh, and again, her tone remains light, the resentfulness all but erased.
"I am sorry," Nate repeats, and Blair laughs quietly.
"You apologize too much, Archibald," she chastises lightly.
"Sor—" he catches himself before the word is completed, and he and Blair share a laugh, though the joy is gone within seconds as their harsh reality is apparent once more.
"Chuck's sorry too," Nate says instead, though he knows the subject is a sore spot for Blair when she tenses, eyes falling shut as if to ward off imminent tears.
"I know," Blair says coldly, opening her eyes and staring straight ahead. She is done crying—the futile tears no longer have a place in her life.
"But—"
"But this isn't something we can just get over," Blair says with a sigh, sitting up and righting herself. "This is it, Nate. The end."
The resolve in her voice is so forced that Nate knows she is trying to convince herself of this as much as she is trying to convince him.
"You don't believe that," he acknowledges. "Because you and I both know that you and Chuck—well, I don't really know how to define your guys' relationship. But I can't see the both of you not ending up together."
Blair scrutinizes Nate carefully, narrowing her charcoal-rimmed eyes at him.
"What?" he asks self-consciously, because with Blair, you never knew what she was thinking.
Unless you were Chuck Bass, of course. Nate isn't sure how Chuck managed to learn how to read Blair so well, but he figures that his best friend is better for the job than him anyways.
"You're surprisingly intelligent, Archibald," Blair observes. "For a boy."
"Gee, thanks, Blair," Nate jokes, and another small smile lights up her face before it vanishes again.
"But you're wrong," she sighs.
"You'll figure this out," Nate tells her, and he is unsure as to where the conviction in his voice comes from. Unsure as to when this fixation on fixing Chuck and Blair's relationship became a priority. "I know you will."
Blair shakes her head at him sadly, as if he is simply too dense to understand. Perhaps a few months ago, he was. But as he stands, giving Blair one last hug before departing her penthouse with a goodbye, he knows that this time, it is Blair who does not understand. Or is, in fact, in denial.
Because it is clear to everyone, himself included, that Chuck and Blair would end up together one day. But this is different—something far more consequential than anything they have ever dealt with before.
His thoughts become tangled beyond repair and Nate suddenly wishes he had a blunt, something that usually goes hand-in-hand with his best friend.
Before he can fully understand what he is doing, Nate is calling his best friend.
It goes to voicemail.
"Chuck, I know you're there. Ignoring my calls? Come on, man…. I—I never meant to just leave. I didn't know if—well, I didn't know what to do in my position—I'm coming over to the Empire."
…
"I thought you were staying at your parents'."
Nate whips around in surprise to find an unkempt, unshaven, and completely un-Bass-like Chuck Bass sitting on the floor, scotch in hand.
"You aren't answering my calls," Nate accuses.
"Phone's dead." Chuck gestures towards the darkened phone in front of him—but Nate knows for a fact that his charger is a mere three feet away.
"Your charger is—"
"I know where my charger is, Nathaniel, unlike you I don't need a GPS to find the kitchen," Chuck says brusquely. "Now, what is it that you want from me?"
Nate ignores the earlier part of Chuck's sentence, but finds that he cannot answer the latter. Because even he is unsure as to why he is at the Empire. Even more befuddling to him are his feelings towards Chuck, the baby, and Jenny. He must admit that he is more than a little hurt at Jenny's lack of updates, but as a new mother he suppose he cannot fault her for that. But even then, Nate is still unsure as to where he stands with her. When he had visited, the baby had not yet existed outside her womb, and Nate could still pretend that they had a shot. Now, now things were different.
It's as if he'd been denying the baby's existence until he no longer could. Because the child tied his best friend and Jenny together in a way that would forever bond them together. They had had a child together—there is no forgetting that. And Nate wonders how he could have been so blasé about the entire situation before when his head feels close to exploding at the moment.
"I was just at Blair's."
Nate blames the muddled mess of his thoughts for what comes from his mouth. He watches as Chuck's shoulders tense, but his expression remains guarded.
"I told her I thought you guys could work through this," Nate continues, and he can tell from Chuck's posture that he is saying all the wrong things. "But now I'm not so sure."
He's not really even sure what he's saying, but as soon as the words fly out of his mouth, he knows exactly what they mean. If he cannot truly envision himself with Jenny, and becoming a father-figure to Chuck's son, it is unfair of him to expect the same of Blair. He suddenly realizes that the two of them are in a similar position.
"Why?" Chuck can't help but allow the syllable to drop from his lips, though it is laced with condescension.
"Because I can't see myself acting as a father figure to your son," Nate says bluntly. He knows that beating around the bush is useless here. "And it would be unfair to expect the same of Blair."
"Except that he's not my son," Chuck retorts almost desperately. "He's—"
"Did you do a paternity test?" Nate asks in surprise. He recalls a conversation he'd had with Jenny, in which she viciously cut him off when he'd mentioned paternity tests. She had been adamantly against it, saying that she was giving up the child either way, and it didn't apply to her. He didn't expect that it was because there was a possibility it wasn't Chuck's child.
"No," Chuck says shortly. "I was too preoccupied with coming back to New York—"
"I know Jenny hasn't been the most…trustworthy." Nate winces at his word choice. "But she wouldn't lie about this Chuck."
"He's not mine," Chuck repeats fiercely. "Think about it, Nathaniel. Has she ever explicitly said she was? He's not mine. I saw him—he's got green eyes. He looks nothing like me. He—"
"She never said that," Nate blurts out in realization, and Chuck looks at him with a smug smile, the barest hint of expression that Nate has seen during the entirety of his visit. "Every time someone brought up the paternity of the baby she would shut it down immediately."
"Exactly," Chuck says complacently.
"But that—" Nate frowns, "that doesn't mean he isn't yours, Chuck. Even if she did…sleep with another guy, there's still a chance—"
"No."
Chuck's voice is low, almost foreboding.
"No, Nathaniel. You haven't seen him. I know, Nate. I know he isn't mine. It's not just the eyes—I don't feel anything for him. He's just another kid and—"
Though his voice remains low, Nate senses the panic in Chuck's voice. Because even if Jenny had slept with someone else, there remains a chance that the child is Chuck's. And Nate realizes that the panic stems from Chuck's fear that he will be exactly like his father.
"Nothing?" Nate asks hoarsely, and Chuck nods in confirmation.
"If he is mine," Chuck begins, "then they were all right. I'm exactly like my father. He can't be mine, Nate. He just can't."
Standing a few feet from Chuck, Nate can only watch helplessly as his best friend downs the rest of his scotch.
When the glass is drained, Chuck tilting his head back to catch the last drop, Nate stalks over and pushes the bottle out of Chuck's reach.
"Get yourself together, man," he tells him, voice slightly muffled as he attempts to heave a slightly drunk Chuck Bass to his feet. "You're going to sleep this off. Then tomorrow morning, you'll call Jenny. And you'll ask for a paternity test."
Chuck's expression is one of surprise, but with Nate's help, allows himself to be dragged to his bed. He was never used to taking instructions from anyone, least of all Nathaniel.
"And if he's mine?"
Nate almost doesn't hear the muffled question, but he is sure of his answer.
It's the only right way.
"Then you man up and be a better father than Bart ever was," Nate tells him.
"And you let Blair go."
…
"How is he?"
Jenny smiles happily at Dan from her spot by the crib. Her left foot is asleep from sitting by the crib all day, but she doesn't care. It's enough to just sit and watch her son sleep, to be at the ready when his inevitable cries start, to reach past the painted white wood, pick him up, and cradle him in her arms.
She had never thought about motherhood before. She had been too young, too reckless, and too full of ambition to see anything past the present. She hadn't even thought about it while pregnant, having been dead set on giving the baby up.
Now she can't imagine a life without him.
"Perfect," Jenny breathes, her eyes never leaving her son. She doesn't need anyone, she decides, if she can just have him.
It's odd how motherhood has changed her.
She's become less abrasive. Less closed off to others' opinions. More loving. Less ruthless. More…mature.
"I was talking to mom," Dan begins carefully, knowing the topic is a prickly one. Alison had more or less accepted the idea of Jenny keeping the baby, and had become enamored with the child herself. But she had begun to push Jenny to tell her father, who was still in the dark. The calls were brief, and stilted to the point where Rufus had wondered aloud if Dan had developed some vendetta against him as well.
"She wants me to tell dad," Jenny finishes with a sigh, still watching her baby. She knows it is high time to pick a name for her child, if only so they can stop referring to him as "the baby". But that is one thing she wants to put off, if only for a little while longer.
"That, and she asked me to give you this," Dan says sheepishly, revealing a baby name book in his hands.
Jenny rolls her eyes, but accepts the proffered book.
"Tell mom I say thanks."
And she returns to watching her baby, listening as Dan exits the room once more.
"Jen—" Dan hesitates in the hallway. "Jenny, you're keeping him. Chuck and Blair know. Serena knows. I know. He deserves to know, Jenny. I know you think—"
"I know," Jenny whispers, closing her eyes. "I know, Dan. I just—just give me a few more days. A few more days, that's all I'm asking for."
"But—"
"I'll tell him soon, alright?" Jenny snaps in irritation. She just wants to be left alone, alone with her son because he is the only one who will not judge her in this situation.
"Okay," Dan relents with a sigh, closing the door behind him. They are at a standstill, waiting for Jenny's next move. Waiting for her to do something so they can all find a way to normalize the mess their lives have become.
Inside, Jenny drops her chin to her knee and continues to watch her son. Because telling her dad would mean having to hear the disappointment in his voice. She hasn't been Daddy's Little Girl in a long time—she hasn't been Jenny Humphrey even longer.
Denial has never really been her forte. But she had been denying two things, she realizes. Two things that she must face eventually. She had thought this would be a fresh start. A new beginning. A blank slate upon which to re-write Jenny Humphrey's story.
Instead, her mistakes have caught up with her, and now she has a son, a son she mustn't bring into this mess.
She's doing this for him.
She will call Rufus tomorrow. But tonight she makes one confession to someone who deserves it.
"I love you," she whispers, gathering her sleeping baby in her arms. He squirms slightly and she automatically adjusts herself in response. His warm weight in her arms, the sparse, downy hair tickling her elbow, brings her a sense of peace. And the courage for what she has to do.
Blinking back her tears, Jenny steels herself, and counts to five.
One, she breathes in, long and deep, the sweet scent of baby powder filling her nostrils. Two, she breathes out. Three, she opens her eyes and looks down at her child. Four, she traces the tip of her finger down the planes of his face, already embedded deeply into her mind. Five, she takes his miniature hand in hers.
And in an instant, she is ready.
Shifting her child to one arm and reaching over for her phone, Jenny drops a kiss to his forehead and dials a number she hasn't in a while.
"Hello?"
Blair's voice is clipped, and from that alone, Jenny can tell that she has been crying.
"Hi, Blair. It's—it's Jenny."
There is a sharp intake of breath, and Jenny prays that Blair will not hang up. "Please, Blair, don't hang up, I—"
"You have two minutes," Blair snaps.
"I know I'm the last person you want to talk to," Jenny begins, only to be cut off by an irritated Blair.
"Get to the point, Jenny. Why did you call?"
"I—well, I need—I don't know how—I really should be talking to Chuck firs—"
"If you're calling for Chuck's number," Blair says, disgusted, "Serena has it too. You're wasting my time, Little J."
The use of her old nickname infuriates her slightly, and from that, Jenny gathers the courage to say what she needs to.
She just hopes she's doing the right thing.
"I need to tell you something."
"Well?" Blair prompts impatiently.
Jenny takes another deep breath, the familiar scent of lavender-scented cream filling her nostrils. And when she breathes out, she lets go of all the insecurities and judgment, of all the fear and the pretense. She lets go of the past, once and for all, by truly being honest—perhaps for the first time in a long time.
"He might not be Chuck's."
tbc