Chapter 4

Frail, fragile, delicate. Those were the only words he could find to describe his wife as he watched her sleep the next morning. He had hardly slept more than three hours, haunted by the sound of her muffled sobs before she finally drifted off into a restless slumber. Chuck knew that he was the cause of her tears, and he loathed himself for letting her cry herself to sleep. He couldn't comfort her, though, when he felt like he'd been burned and his emotions were still so raw.

She doesn't know that.

She doesn't know about any of it, he reminded himself. It's unfair to punish her when she doesn't understand the source of his anger with her. He would confront her, but not now, not in these early days of pregnancy when her health was still compromised. He wished with all his being that he could just forget the conversation he had with the doctor, forget the horrible knowledge that he had obtained from that discussion. His only answer for the time being was to find a way to conceal and compartmentalize those feelings so that they could be dealt with in the future without interfering with his current relationship with Blair. He watched a small shiver run through her body as her mouth released a whimper into the darkness. With a sigh, Chuck pulled the large comforter from the foot of the bed and wrapped it gingerly around his wife's small frame. He opened the drawer to her nightstand, finding a sheet of stationary, and he jotted out a quick message: I'm sorry for last night. I promise to make it up to you soon. I love you infinitely. -C

He reached out his hand to close the drawer when something caught his eye. Beneath layers of papers, a small envelope with tattered edges was stuck between back hinges of the drawer. He released the envelope from its entrapment and studied it carefully. There were no distinguishing marks on the outer panels of the envelope, so he reached inside to find a hastily scribbled note in small script. The penmanship was precise and neat despite the jagged edges of the frantic letters. He knew that it was not Blair's careful cursive handwriting, but the most disturbing aspect was the message's contents: Mandarin Oriental, Rm 516, 8/5 10:00 pm. Tucked into the envelope behind the note was a single black keycard.

Chuck's heart pounded in his chest at the discovery, dark thoughts threatening to push their way into his mind. He fought them off, knowing that there was definitely a plausible explanation for why his wife would have a meeting set up with someone at a luxurious hotel late at night. Today was August 8th; she was in Paris on the 5th. Why did she still have the keycard? Did she miss the mysterious meeting?

He started when he heard her mumble "Chuck" in her sleep-dazed state, so he quickly tucked the envelope and its contents back into the drawer and closed it as quietly as he could. He looked back at Blair, who had simply rolled over to face the opposite side of the bed, and studied her once again. He hated the thoughts playing in his mind; he hated himself for allowing them to exist in the first place. Questioning Blair's honesty was one thing, but her faithfulness? He was sure that she would only lie to him with good intentions to protect him or their family, however misguided those intentions may be. Never, in all of the time that he had known Blair, did he ever give credence to the prospect of her infidelity. If someone even suggested or hinted at Blair being unfaithful, he would laugh and roll his eyes. The notion was beyond the realm of possibility. But now, after just recently discovering such monumental deceit from his wife, he couldn't help the tiny inkling of doubt present in the furthest recesses of his mind.

With a sigh, he placed his note on the pillow next to Blair, kissed her forehead, and headed out the door.

She's still Blair. She's still my Blair.

XOXO

Blair awoke a few hours after Chuck left for the office, even more tired than she had been when she went to bed the night before. Her eyes felt puffy and swollen from crying herself to sleep, and she desperately needed a hot bath for her aching joints. She slowly sat up and looked longingly at Chuck's side of the bed. She found the note he left, and tears fell from her eyes once again.

It wasn't just that he refused sex - an act that she had come to recognize as one of his primary ways of expressing emotions that were too powerful for words. In seven years of marriage, there had been moments of tension and arguments, of course, but something about last night felt different. Chuck felt different. His reaction to the discussion of their baby wasn't what she expected from an excited father-to-be. At the mention of a baby girl, he had completely shut down with the thin excuse that he was tired. Blair knew that Chuck had enough social grace to outlast his company, even if it was just Serena and Lily. Something deeper than work stress was going on with him, and she felt so distant from him that it hurt in her soul.

One of the most frustrating parts of being married to Chuck Bass was his continual inability to communicate his feelings. She had worked diligently and patiently over the past ten years to tear down his walls, and she knew that she was the only person he had ever allowed himself to be completely raw and vulnerable with. Still, there were times when he hid himself away in his own dark thoughts; there were still days that he hid from her, and it hurt. She had learned with time that it was important to give him his space; if she pushed him too hard, he shut down and pushed her away. She had discovered that, when she backed off, he came to her when he was ready. He often needed a day or two to process his own emotions, but he almost always seeked her advice and comfort. It worked well for them, but this time, her intuition told her that he was hiding something entirely different and that he wouldn't be coming to her any time soon.

She shook her head and tapped out a quick text message to her husband: Thanks for the note. I love you, too.

She looked closer at the note, and she realized that he had used her stationary. Her heartbeat quickened and a lump formed in her throat. What if he had found...no, he couldn't have. She'd tucked it deeply into the back of the drawer behind the stationary, but perhaps it had been careless to place it in the drawer at all. She'd put it there temporarily when she returned from Paris with the intention of moving it to a more secure location the next day. With the pregnancy announcement and Henry's first day of school, it had completely slipped her mind.

With shaking hands, she opened the drawer and after digging deeply underneath the stationary, she found the envelope exactly where she had left it two days prior. Exhaling the breath she didn't realize she was holding, she pulled it out and opened it once more, staring at the words before her, imploring her to attend a secret meeting at the Mandarin Oriental. The black keycard rested in the envelope, and she turned it over and over in her hands, recalling the day she almost made a decision that could've ended her marriage.

Blair checked her phone for the eighteenth time in an hour. 9:42 pm. If she was going to do this, she had to do it now. This one lone choice would impact everything and everyone she loved. Could she make this decision and still look her small son in the eye? Could she walk into that hotel room and then go home and make love to her husband?

The rain pelted her skin harshly, stinging her exposed arms, in an almost ominous punishment for the thoughts running through her mind. As her tears finally spilled over, she couldn't distinguish which of the water droplets on her face were produced by her eyes and which were from the gray clouds hovering over her.

She looked up at the expansive hotel as if she were standing at the gates of hell. With a final sigh, she pushed open the heavy glass door and entered the lobby. Her hands shook uncontrollably when she reached into her purse to find the note reminding her of the room number. Instead her hand found her cell phone illuminating the darkness inside her bag, and she pulled it out to view her latest notifications. Her lip quivered when she saw her husband and son staring back at her from her lock screen, and she nearly dropped the device when she read the text awaiting her: Miss you so much, baby. Can't wait for you to get home Sunday. Love you always.

It was a sign. Chuck was speaking to her from across the ocean. Don't do this. You don't know what damage it could cause. With tears rolling ceaselessly from her eyes, she responded: Miss you, too, my love. Give Henry a kiss for me. XOXO.

The clicking of her heels against the marble floor was the only audible sound as she turned and exited the hotel without looking back.

But now - now that Chuck was so distant and she felt so helpless - she started to reconsider her decision to leave the hotel that night. She dialed carefully before she could back out a second time. She was disappointed when she heard the voicemail pick up, but she left a message, "I'm sorry about Friday night. Can you come to New York? Chuck will be out of town next weekend."

XOXO

"Henry!" Blair squealed as she lifted her son into her arms when she entered the penthouse. "How was school, darling?"

"It was okay," he replied with little emotion, "Matt was sad, so we didn't really get to have much fun playing at recess."

"Oh, no," Blair returned, sitting the small boy atop the Quartz countertop, "Why was he sad?"

Chuck rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks just in time to hear Henry's answer, "His mommy and daddy are getting a 'vorce. What's a 'vorce?"

He waited to hear Blair's response. That word had never been used in their house; it had never been used at all - even jokingly - during their decade long relationship. He was morbidly curious to hear how she would explain it to their five-year-old. He could hear the hesitance in her voice when she finally answered, "A divorce is when two people decide that they are better off not being married anymore. It's really hard for everyone involved, but sometimes it's for the best. Matt might be sad for a while because his life will be different now, but I'm sure his mommy and daddy love him so much. It's important that you be a good friend to Matt especially right now. Let him know that you will always be his friend."

She watched her son's face contort from sadness to fear, and his lower lip jutted out into a pout, "Will you and Daddy ever get a divorce?" A small tear fell onto his rouged cheeks, and her heart clenched tightly in her chest.

"Never," she whispered quietly, wiping the wetness from his face. "Your daddy and I love each other so much, and we will always be a family. Don't you worry."

Chuck listened to his wife's explanation, and he briefly tried to imagine a life separate from Blair, a life where they shared custody of their children and only communicated for their benefit, a life where he didn't hold her each night as she drifted to sleep. A life of complete misery and hell. He refused to let that happen. Whatever Blair was hiding from him, they would work through it. Like she said, she was his family. She had opened his eyes to what that word actually meant. Those who were supposed to be his family had betrayed him endlessly - his father's life of lies, disapproval, and crime, his mother's deception - they had broken him again and again with no remorse, but Blair built him up. She put him back together when the pieces were shattered into such tiny, jagged pieces that he was ready to quit. No one had ever embodied the word 'family' the way she did. He had so much darkness that he poured it into her, but she never gave up on him. He'd be damned if he gave up on her now after everything he'd put her though. He made the decision right then and there that, no matter what they faced, he would fight for his family.

He made his way into the kitchen, dropping his briefcase haplessly on the floor. Before she knew what was happening, Chuck swept her into his arms and dropped his head to kiss her passionately. She gasped in surprise and melted into his embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. She would never get tired of his kisses, and she smiled against his lips, feeling closer to him than she had in days. They didn't part until Henry's disgusted "Ew!" invaded their ears, and Chuck pulled away laughing. He leaned his forehead against Blair's and whispered, "I really am sorry about last night, but I'm fully prepared to make it up to you tonight."

XOXO

After they had each read two bedtime stories to Henry, Chuck and Blair entered their master bedroom hand in hand. Blair loosened Chuck's tie and purred, "I believe you made a promise to me, Mr. Bass."

His hand found the zipper at the back of her skirt, and let the garment fall with a swish to the floor. He pulled her yellow silk blouse over her head and quickly divested her of her bra. His hands reached up to knead her already fuller breasts, and he reveled in the whimper his caresses elicited. "Trust me," he murmured as he lowered his lips to her clavicle, "That's one promise I intend to keep."

For the first time since his trip to the doctor's office, Chuck forgot all of his worries and just let himself exist in this moment with his wife. He kissed her softly as he entered her slowly, gently as if she were the most precious thing on the planet. She was powerful, but tonight he planned to worship her faithfully. She moaned softly when his thrusts became longer and more forceful, the emotions and passion mounting between them to nearly tangible levels. Each deep stroke spoke of silent promises - I love you, I will always love you.

Later, when their breathing returned to normal and their heart rates slowed, Chuck and Blair lay side by side silently basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Chuck stroked his arm slowly up and down her exposed back, but his eyes landed on the nightstand behind her. His anxiety slowly returned, and he couldn't help observing, "You never finished telling me about Paris. I might make a stop there when I'm in Europe next week."

"Why?" She quickly suppressed the surprise in her voice, and added, "I mean, I thought you were going to Madrid. What business do you have in Paris?"

"Bass Industries is considering a partnership with the Mandarin Oriental," he emphasized the hotel name carefully, watching for any reaction from Blair. If she was lying, her eyes wouldn't match her mouth. "Have you ever been there? I think there's some potential."

Blair felt her pulse quicken. It had to be a coincidence, right? He didn't actually know anything, did he? Was he testing her? It was too dark for her to read his expression, or she would've known the answer. She hadn't even gone through with it, and she still felt absurdly guilty. Chuck could never know. She shrugged nonchalantly, "Once. A long time ago. It's a beautiful hotel." She leaned forward and placed a quick peck against his lips before lowering her head to his shoulder, "Goodnight, my love."

Chuck's eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. She was lying. He could sense it; he could hear it in the overly indifferent tone she used. Making love to her had felt amazing - like exactly what he needed to feel close and connected to her again. He cursed himself for asking about Paris, and now he knew that it would be another long sleepless night. "Goodnight," he whispered into the darkness, contemplating his next move. He would call his PI first thing in the morning. They couldn't continue like this, but he couldn't outright accuse her of being a liar. The baby and Blair's health had to remain his top priority.

Blair stared at the neon numbers on the clock, her anxiety-addled brain replaying Chuck's question. She has to put a stop to it all before it destroys her marriage. This weekend there would be a reckoning, and she didn't care what damage she caused in the process as long as she protected her husband.

A/N: There's a lot going on here, I know, but please trust me. I know that parts of this are really vague and confusing, but I have a plan. :) Sorry that I have been writing at a snail's pace, but I can really only write on the weekends at this point until work slows down.