A/N: Hello, dear readers! This is a a sequel to Time Won't Heal These Wounds, so I would suggest that you read that story before diving into this one. I think that it will still make sense for the most part if you haven't read TWHTW, but there might be some parts that are confusing. This is not a lighthearted first chapter, so if trauma is triggering for you, then please be forewarned.
Chapter 1
"Blair," Chuck warned in frustration, "You are 34 weeks pregnant with twins. You do not need to go to some silly charity gala."
"Just zip me please," she waved dismissively, turning to reveal her exposed back to him.
Chuck sighed and tugged at the zipper, but it stalled just above her tailbone, refusing to be coaxed higher. "It's not going to close, Blair," he said as gently as he could. Blair's hormones had revved into overdrive after she reached the third trimester, and she was honestly a timebomb waiting to explode. A week earlier Chuck had made the comment that he liked the way she braided her hair down the center of her back, but she mistook his compliment as an indication that he hated her typical curly style. He was subjected to the silent treatment for the rest of the night, but she eventually forgave him the next morning when he brought her breakfast in bed and gave her a foot massage. He found it ludicrous that he had to apologize for complimenting her, but over the past several weeks he had become quite adept at absorbing whatever asinine hormonal reaction she had to his existence. His ultimate goal was to keep her calm and happy, and if it took him ignoring her petty mood swings, it was a small price to pay for a healthy, uneventful pregnancy.
"Of course it won't close," she screeched, "I've gained another 2.5 pounds this week. I would wear the black Dior dress with the white accents, but then everyone will wonder why Free Willy is showing up to the gala in heels!" Her voice rose higher with each word, as she stepped foot by foot out of the dress she was wearing and tossed it on the bed. In truth, her weight gain hadn't bothered her as much as she would have thought because she knew it meant that her babies were growing steadily. She really wasn't even upset that the dress didn't fit, but she felt her anxiety building the past few days, and the lack of sleep due to her restless legs, the constant uncomfortable Braxton Hicks, and the unrelenting back pain made her extra crabby. She didn't mean to take her agitation out on Chuck, but she found it a little annoying that he was always so calm when she knew she was being a complete bitch.
Chuck stepped to her and placed his hand affectionately against her swollen belly, which overwhelmed her small frame. "You're beautiful and radiant and perfect, Blair," he kissed her softly, relishing in the feeling of the babies kicking against the warmth of his palm, "But the doctor has been adamant that you need to make it to 36 weeks. Two more weeks, and we will have our babies in our arms. You need to rest, my love," he emphasized his last words with a kiss to her knuckles.
Blair marched to her closet and pulled out the Aria gown that she knew still fit over her bump. "Sitting at a table at a charity gala isn't going to send me into labor, Chuck. I need this last event to feel as normal as possible before our lives become complete chaos in a few weeks. You will be with me the whole time. I'll be fine, I promise."
Chuck relented and reluctantly left his wife to finish readying herself for what he felt was a rather inconsequential event. While the charity itself was certainly worthwhile, the pretentious dinner was unnecessary. He would willingly donate three times the amount that each plate cost to stay home with Blair for the evening, but he couldn't deny his social wife the opportunity to attend one more public society event before her time was filled with nursing babies.
He held her hand tightly as they carefully descended the large formal staircase to the foyer where Dorota greeted them with Blair's evening bag, "You are beautiful, Ms. Blair."
"Thank you, Dorota. We should be home by 11 at the latest," Blair kissed the maid on the cheek and followed Chuck out the door. Inside the limo, she turned to him and reached for his hand, "I know that I haven't been easy to deal with lately, but -"
He cut her off by pulling her further into his embrace and reclining back into the supple leather seat. His hand ghosted lightly over her abdomen before resting atop her bump. In his raspy voice, he whispered against her temple, "Stop. I can handle a little bit of grumpiness while you are growing two human beings inside your body. I am so in awe of you every day," he used his finger to tilt her chin up to his lips for a light kiss, "I love you."
"I love you, too, Chuck," she nuzzled her head against his chest and basked in the warmth and safety that his body provided. "So much."
His hand inched its way underneath the high slit of her gown and massaged a teasing path up her inner thigh, "I am thinking of yet another reason that we should've skipped this gala tonight. We've got a lot of time to make up for because six weeks of abstinence is going to be excruciating once the babies are here."
"Mmph," she sighed, turning slightly in his arms to kiss him deeply as his hand continued its journey toward her pantyline. "You won't have the energy for sex, anyway, when you're sleep-deprived from caring for two newborns and a recovering wife."
"You underestimate my libido," he toyed with the band of her underwear before removing his hand to trail a finger along her heaving cleavage from the top of her dress, "Perhaps I've taken it too easy on you. This dress is so tempting; it really isn't fair."
"You're going to have to keep that libido in check, Mr. Bass," she whispered seductively against his jaw, nipping lightly at his ear. "We're almost…" she paused and looked out the window, "Why have we stopped?"
Chuck hadn't noticed the vehicle ceasing to move in his quest to worship his wife's body, but it seemed as though they were in a standstill. He lowered the partition and asked, "Arthur, what's going on?"
Arthur responded, "I"m not sure, Mr. Bass. It looks like there's an accident ahead. I can try a different avenue if you'd like because the far left lane seems to be moving pretty steadily. It will probably add fifteen or twenty minutes to our commute, though."
Blair smiled at her husband and answered for him, "That's alright, Arthur. Mr. Bass was right; this gala is really unnecessary. We have more important items on the agenda at home. Please head back."
"Of course," Arthur smirked, well aware of exactly which 'important items' to which Blair was referring, "It's a bit of a mess here right now, so it may take me a minute to get turned around."
"That's fine," she grinned at the kind chauffeur before raising the partition and turning back to her husband, "Now where were we?"
"I would say right..." he leaned in and kissed her neck, whispering softly as he lowered his mouth to the swell of her breasts, "...about here."
Just as Chuck's hand lowered the strap to Blair's gown, an unexpected violent jolt sent the limo smashing into the car in front of them. Chuck desperately reached for his wife, whose body was thrown hard against the passenger door before falling to a heap on the floor in front of the bench seat. His cell phone flew to the floor on impact, shattering uselessly, and Blair's shrill scream shocked him to reality. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he righted Blair against the bench. A gash appeared above her right eyebrow, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized she was conscious and otherwise unharmed.
"Chuck?" her voice shook disorientedly.
He stroked her cheek reassuringly, and soothed, "Shh, baby, it's okay. You're okay. I'm here."
In the back of his mind, he realized that he needed to check on Arthur, but he couldn't turn his attention from Blair just yet. Fortunately the driver was able to lower the partition and ask, "Mr. Bass, are you and Mrs. Bass alright?"
"We're -"
"Oh, my God, Chuck!" Blair's voice was now more forceful, laced with fear and urgency.
He turned back to her quickly and noted that her eyes rested on her legs. Lowering his gaze to her lap, he saw blood trickling down her leg from beneath her dress in a slow steady path. His heart thudded against his chest and every sound was muffled except for the soft cries from his wife's lips: "My babies! My babies!"
"Arthur, call 911! Now, dammit!"
XOXO
It was exactly seven minutes and forty-three seconds before the ambulance showed up, but to Chuck, it felt like hours. He did everything he could to calm his frantic wife, but the tears streaming down her cheeks held no end. She was inconsolable and practically spiraling out of control as she collapsed against his chest while he stroked her hair, feeling completely unequipped to comfort her. He could barely make out the nearly silent prayer she chanted against his suit jacket: "Save my babies. Please let my babies be okay."
The first EMT worker on the scene instructed Blair firmly not to move, and Chuck's mind immediately questioned each of his decisions from the moment of impact: he had moved her from the floor and reclined her against his chest; had he caused more damage than the initial hit?
As they loaded Blair onto the stretcher, a young girl pulled up beside them and snapped a photo of Blair's swollen body being carried toward the ambulance. Blair flinched at the girl's callous actions, but she focused her attention on the man taking her blood pressure, "Can my husband come with us, please?"
"He will have to ride up front with the driver," he didn't even look at her as he prepared a bag of fluids for an IV.
"Chuck?" she questioned loudly, but she couldn't find him.
She exhaled slightly when she heard him call, "I'm here, sweetheart. I'm right here."
Blair yelped in pain when the EMT jammed the needle into her arm; he didn't mean to be so careless but the bumpy highway wasn't exactly the most advantageous location to administer an IV. Doing her best to ward off a panic attack, she asked unsteadily, barely able to choke out the words, "Are my babies going to be okay?"
The EMT, who identified himself as Martin, looked at her sympathetically and answered in the only way he knew how, "We are going to do everything we can for your babies. The important thing is that we get to the hospital as soon as possible. The best thing you can do for them is to remain calm. Can you do that for me?"
She drew a long breath and nodded, continuing her silent prayer to a God with whom she had a rather precarious relationship. She wasn't an incredibly religious woman, but she'd always believed in the presence of a higher being; now more than ever, she felt the need to rely on whomever may have power over her fate.
Upon arrival at the hospital, they took her into the severe trauma ward where a team of ten to twelve nurses and doctors worked quickly and anxiously around her, never pausing to explain exactly what they were doing. She felt fear rise in the pit of her stomach when they cut the dress from her body, placing the sharp, cold metal of the scissors against her thighs and slitting the garment in one swift swipe of the blade. She asked the nurse closest to her head for Chuck, but the nurse simply shook her head as she spread warm ultrasound gel around her stomach. Blair felt tears roll down her raw cheeks, but no one stopped to acknowledge her emotional outburst or to offer her a word of comfort - not because they were uncaring, but because they were too busy about the babies' well-being to worry about Blair's emotional state at that moment.
When the nurse placed the wand of the ultrasound machine against her lower belly, she burst out in uncontrollable sobs when she heard the soft boom boom, boom boom of a tiny heartbeat. Her entire being quaked with relief at what was the most beautiful sound her ears had ever heard.
Her joy was short-lived, though, when she registered the look on the nurse's face. "What is it?" Blair wept quietly. "What's wrong?"
XOXO
When the ambulance had finally arrived at the hospital, Chuck had tried to follow Blair into the trauma center, but the doctor held up his hand and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Bass, but you'll have to wait here."
"She's my wife," he growled. "I need to be there with her."
The doctor gave him a sympathetic nod, but still refused to let him pass, "I understand that, but right now, Mrs. Bass and the babies are in a very vulnerable condition. Your presence will only make our jobs that much harder. Please understand, Mr. Bass, that we are going to do everything for your wife that we can, but I need to get in there. Now."
Chuck nodded reluctantly as the doctor pushed through the doors toward Blair. Now alone, he paced anxiously back and forth across the expanse of the waiting room, threatening every hospital worker who came near him for news of his wife to no avail. Half an hour later, he hadn't received a single word from any of the doctors, and he was ready to barge through the doors, propriety be damned.
Just as his last thread of patience was unraveling, the elevator door opened to reveal Landry and Serena. Landry ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Oh, Chuck. I'm so sorry. Have you heard anything?"
He shook his head and looked down at his shaking hands, "No, no one's told me a fucking thing."
Serena's eyes shone with tears as she hugged her brother silently. She could read the emotions written all over his face, and she knew that he was moments from losing it. Forcing him to talk about the accident or explain what happened would be the worst thing that she could do then, so instead she offered to get him a cup of coffee while Landry led him to one of the sofas and implored him to sit. He declined, but he asked her to call Cyrus and Eleanor so that they could fly back from Paris. She nodded and told him that Lily was on her way with Eric, too.
Moments later, Dr. Briggs approached Chuck with a solemn look on his face. "Mr. Bass," the older man greeted softly.
"Get on with it," Chuck ordered impatiently.
"I'm afraid Baby A's heart rate has dropped dangerously low, and it seems that your wife suffered a placental abruption on impact. We've had to take her back for an emergency c-section."
"I want to be in there with her," Chuck insisted, feeling the most overwhelming sense of fear that he'd ever felt in his entire life. He couldn't let anything happen to her; he wouldn't be able to survive without her.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bass. You cannot be in there. We've had to sedate her because we don't have time for a spinal."
"I swear to God," Chuck threatened, "If anything happens to her -"
"I understand," the doctor nodded, having plenty of experience in dealing with powerful, wealthy, passionate men like Chuck Bass. "She's in good hands - the best in New York."
As the doctor turned to leave, Chuck slumped into the chair closest to him, burying his head in his hands. Landry tentatively lifted her hand to his shoulder in a soothing gesture, wishing that she could take the pain away from him. For a man who had already been through so much suffering in his life, he didn't deserve this. "Blair's strong, Chuck. She'll make it through this, and she'll fight like hell for those babies."
He couldn't breathe - not when his source of air was clinging to life on the operating table. His mind drew on the supernatural pull that he had always felt toward Blair, even during the ten years that they were separated, and he called to her: Hold on, baby. I need you. Don't leave me.