A/N: Hello lovely readers! I'm back with the first chapter of part three! Rejoice! As ambitious as my plans for this story were, I never thought I'd actually make it this far. Thank you for the constant encouragements over the past few years. I don't know if I'd be able to finish this story without them. Without further ado, read on!

PART THREE

Chapter 39: The Unusual Suspects

Calling all UESrs! Where did you all go? In the city that never sleeps, it's been unusually quiet this summer. While some dipped their toes in the Hamptons, others stomped the streets of Paris, but why is it that I've heard nothing from our faves? I know many of you have been sunning yourselves in the Mediterranean or backpacking through Asia, but even the ones closest to home have nothing to report. Send me the deets and fast. You know I hate waiting.

For the first time in his adult life, Bart had no messages on his phone. There were no emails from Bass Industries waiting for his approval, no texts from Evelyn or any of his subordinates, and there were no long-distance phone calls from any of the Bass Industries offices overseas. No one needed anything from him, and no one wanted to talk to him. It was a strange feeling to be so benign, peripheral after so many years of being in charge.

He walked with Lily on their private beach in the Hamptons. With each step, it felt as though his foot sunk further in the sand. He hated it. What was so appealing about sand exactly? It stuck to everything, and once molded together it had the power to pull anything under it. He wiggled his toes in an attempt to free himself of any loose sand.

"We're back to that are we?" Lily chuckled.

"What do you mean?"

"With the sand. You always wiggle your toes. It won't bite you know."

"I know," Bart said. He wiggled his toes again.

"You're restless."

"I thought I was relaxed," Bart said.

Lily chuckled. "I know it's been a tough adjustment to not be in charge of Bass Industries anymore, but I think this is a good thing."

He didn't feel good at all. He woke up every day at seven, ready to read the paper and drink his coffee and was ready to leave the house for nine. It was a routine that his body couldn't change. What was worse was that when he was ready for nine, he realized he had nowhere to go. He could only play so much squash and tennis. He wasn't much of a golfer, but had gone at least once a week this summer, as opposed to his obligatory five games per year.

"How so?"

"Of course, Bass Industries is your passion, but you've been given an opportunity to reassess and reprioritize other parts of your interests and passions you might realize you've neglected over the years."

Lily had a point. He picked up his favourite sports, read more, and spent more time with Evelyn. He even called Chuck regularly to see which country he was in. For the first time, Chuck actually sent pictures that were taken in the daylight.

"It's just going to take some time," Lily said.

He wondered if there was a magic number that proved when was enough time to get over losing Bass Industries. He still was annoyed at himself for not keeping watch over Jack more. He was more frustrated that he let himself lose control of his empire. The more he thought about it, the more resentment would build.

"Besides," Lily said. "We have a packed social schedule this week. We have drinks tonight with the Hollards, and a garden party with the Masons this weekend, so this could be a good opportunity to reconnect with our friends. Maybe they have an opportunity?"

"Maybe."

He didn't bet on it. Instead, this was an opportunity for his friends to ask what went wrong. There was gossip already floating around the island, but he didn't want to answer the same question all night.

He put one foot in front of the other and felt the warm breeze cool his warm skin. He wandered along the shoreline, the waves lapping his ankles, and wondered if there was a way to turn the tide.

Evelyn Bass pushed through the front doors of Dr. Crespo's office and sighed. Her feet hurt from bouncing from one patient room to another all day, changing bed paper, weighing pregnant women, taking their urine samples, and filing in between. It wasn't the type of internship Evelyn thought she'd have. She thought she'd be in a hospital, being in the emergency room, or even in the birthing rooms where things really happened, but she'd been stuck in Dr. Crespo's office all summer. It was a good job for her age, it paid, but it was pretty mundane most of the time.

Evelyn had to remind herself that everyone started at the bottom, and that this experience would help her later. No matter how many cups of warm pee she had to hold this summer, it would be worth it.

Evelyn adjusted her ear buds and checked her phone for a Skype call. She checked her call history and saw the list of phone calls and selected the first number. It was the only number on her list.

Evelyn held the phone in her hand and walked to the waiting limo at the curb.

"Hello?" A groggy voice answered.

"Dash? Did I wake you?" Evelyn checked her watch while Arthur opened the door for her. There was a thirteen-hour time difference from New York to South Korea. It must have been almost seven thirty in the morning Korean time.

"Yeah, but I needed it," Dash said and yawned.

Evelyn ducked into the limo and adjusted her hair. "You're welcome and…well…good morning."

Dash rubbed his eyes and sat up, shaking the screen. It froze a couple times, but Evelyn waited to see his face again.

At first, she wasn't sure how they were going to keep in touch this summer. With the time difference, there was only a slime gap of time in Dash's early morning and Evelyn's early evening to have a quick chat before Dash went to work. It amazed her how they were able to keep up their relationship despite being on opposite poles of the earth. It was a difficult adjustment in the beginning of the summer, but now she was used to it.

"How was work?"

"Busy today since Dr. Crespo's on call tomorrow at the hospital. One woman who came in said she was having triplets. Can you imagine?"

"No. But I can imagine getting them confused. What a nightmare if you mix up two of them and accidently swapped their names."

"That totally doesn't happen. Parents just know who's who."

"At least one parents has screwed it up. There's no way it hasn't happened before. Are you going home now?"

"Yes. I'm going to have dinner and then visit Ozzy. I haven't seen him in a couple days."

This time, Evelyn didn't have to worry about Dash getting protective of her now that she spent time with Ozzy. Dash finally trusted her and was actually encouraging that she visited him regularly since he couldn't. Despite his jealousy over Ozzy, Evelyn began to understand that Dash could be just as protective of Ozzy in his own way.

"I talked to him yesterday," Dash said. He appeared to be in a small kitchenette. "But it's not the same as in person. How's he doing?"

"He's okay," Evelyn said. "He doesn't say anything about his therapy sessions, but those are confidential anyway. It's a process though, so it's going to take more than a few months you know?"

"Yeah that's true." Dash poured cereal into a bowl. "Have you, um… seen Jenny recently?"

"I haven't. She's been so busy at Eleanor Waldorf's atelier, it feels like I've barely seen her this summer even though we're in the same city. Can you believe it? She's been pushing out fashion lines and I've been holding cups of pee. How is that even fair?"

Dash chuckled. "I think that's called sacrifice."

Evelyn watched Dash eat his breakfast without saying much else for a couple moments. It was in these moments where a screen couldn't fill the void of longing she had for him. She couldn't reach into the screen and hold his hand or lean her head on his shoulder.

"I miss you," Evelyn said. She hadn't said those words all summer. They seemed redundant. Nothing could be done about Dash's absence, and she didn't think bringing it up would be a good idea. Now that summer was ending, she couldn't hold the words back anymore.

"I miss you too," Dash said. "You know that."

"I do. It just feels like you've been gone for so long," Evelyn said. "Working and even travelling all over Southeast Asia."

"If it felt long for you, then it felt like eternity over here. Trust me. In the beginning it was exciting to live in this dorm with other interns, but now I'm so sick of everyone. But don't worry. I'll be back before you know it, and once I'm back it won't take you long to get sick of me."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will. I bet you'll be so annoyed with me after let's see…seventy-two hours?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "You're wrong."

"Wanna make a bet?"

She was tempted and proud enough to accept, but she decided against it. It would take too long to see this bet through.

"I should go," Dash said. "I still need to shower before work."

"Okay. Have a good day at work," Evelyn said.

"Thanks. Say hi to Ozzy for me."

They each took turns saying their goodbyes and waved. Evelyn blew Dash a kiss and they continued to chant their goodbyes, neither wanting to be the first to hang up or lose sight of the other.

"Okay, Dash. You need to hang up or you'll be late for work!"

Evelyn was the one to finally hang up with a sigh. Dash could be so stubborn sometimes. She shook her head and wondered if she should have taken that bet after all.

While absence may make the heart grow fonder, does absence make betrayal less painful? There's no greater antidote than ignorance, right D?

Chuck sipped his Turkish coffee while overlooking the cove of floating boats in Ibiza. The sea was calm and the air salty. Chuck's skin took on an orange flush, the closest he'd ever come to a tan, and he wore aviators at all times during the day.

As lulling as the crashing waves were, Chuck couldn't let go of his phone. He felt so far away from everything that was happening. He read the business news online every day and checked Gossip Girl throughout the day to keep up, but it was frustrating on the days where there was no news to absorb on either of those fronts. Travelling in Europe was nice, but he wished he were in the loop.

Even though his father told him to stay out of Bass Industries, his eye always found any article about it from the New York Times to the Financial Business Times. From the sounds of things, Jack didn't just intend to take over Bass Industries, but he planned to rebrand and relaunch the company entirely. He could only imagine what his father was thinking. After all the work he put into the company, the last thing Chuck would want was for someone to take it over and change its purpose and vision entirely. Chuck did speak with Bart regularly, but he never brought up any of these thoughts. They kept the conversation light, and never mentioned Bass Industries at all.

Chuck checked Gossip Girl and was surprised to find another notification. Blair and Serena were spotted on the Champs-Élysées on a late-night stroll. Okay, so he may have bookmarked any mention of Blair on the site, but that was completely normal. He was just keeping an awareness for what she was up to. It wasn't like he missed her or anything.

The glass doors slid open and Nate appeared. He rubbed his eyes and collapsed on the white chaise across the glass coffee table.

"How do you always get up before me?"

Chuck finished his coffee and picked up his phone. "Because contrary to popular belief, I do try to see the light of day."

Nate yawned. "Are you stalking Gossip Girl again?"

Chuck scowled. "Please Nathaniel. I have standards."

"Yes, you do. It's hard to look below them when you date Blair Waldorf. There really is no higher standard."

"Your point Nathaniel?"

"I mean, I get why you broke up, Blair did cross a line, but you gotta let it go if you want to move on, and there is no one like Blair Waldorf. The world couldn't handle that."

"The world doesn't deserve that," Chuck said. He meant it, truly, but each of these praises would bounce back with an immediate flash of resentment. When Blair was at her best, she was the best person in the world, when she was at her worst, she tested his will.

"I don't get you guys," Nate said. He looked through the glass window and saw a girl wearing the same clothes she wore the night before. She walked barefoot through their suite and held her wedges in the crook of her arm. The door slammed behind her.

"You didn't even say goodbye huh?"

"After last time when I mixed up her name?" Nate said. "Not a chance. I think her name was Camila…no it was Lucia…no wait, it was Bianca?"

"Maybe it was all three," Chuck smirked.

Nate smiled. "I wish."

Chuck smirked. Nate may look good, but he wasn't that good.

"Besides, maybe you'll actually bring a girl back tonight too?"

"I could if I wanted. It all depends on whether or not it's worth my time. So far that hasn't been the case."

Chuck had tried to hook up with other girls, strangers really, but he found himself in the same position he was the summer before senior year. He couldn't connect with anyone. Sure he hired different girls like he did the summer before senior year, but he couldn't follow through. His mind couldn't, and his body couldn't either.

Although he would never admit it out loud, Chuck Bass was in a slump. Not even his favorite past times could help this time.

Ozzy watched two Ostroff Centre patients shoot hoops from the fifth floor window. They played one on one, the taller boy defending, while the shorter boy tried to throw the ball over his opponent's gangly arms. With each throw, the taller boy deflected every shot the shorter boy took. The shorter boy continued, lacking any frustration. The closest he got was completing a layup, the ball grazing the tall boy's fingers, hitting the back of the net and bouncing off the rim of the basket.

He heard the door open, and a cheery voice filled the room.

"Ozzy? It's good to see you again."

Ozzy dragged his gaze away from the outside world and focused on his therapist, Dr. Jane Albright. She was a pale woman in her mid-fifties whose blonde hair blended with silver. She sat across from him in a brown leather sofa with a legal pad on her lap. The room was fairly bright with mustard yellow walls and bay windows letting in plenty of natural light.

It was staged like a living room that was made to feel comfortable and homey, but Ozzy felt none of those things when he entered the room. Instead, he felt uncomfortable, and each session made him feel inexplicably tired after. He knew Dr. Albright had good intentions, but he didn't think they were really getting anywhere. Not that he told his mom that. These sessions were confidential, so he didn't delve too far into the details.

"So what's been going on since I saw you last week?"

She started with a question like this every week. It bothered him because he knew it was designed to give her something to exploit, something to go off of.

"I went swimming everyday like you suggested when I visited the Hamptons."

"In the pool or on the beach?"

"Beach. It's better than the pool."

"How did you feel after you went swimming?"

It always came back to how he felt. How was he supposed to know? Sometimes he felt content, other days he didn't feel like much at all. Ozzy discovered that there was no greater difficulty than expressing how he felt. Words didn't seem to grasp his emotions well enough.

"It felt good, I guess. The current was strong, and I haven't practiced in a while, so I didn't last as long as I could."

"That's why it's a practice," she said.

"Yeah."

"Have you seen your friend Evelyn this week?"

"Yeah. She came by a couple days ago. I'm supposed to see her tonight."

"And your mom?"

He shrugged. "She worries a lot now. I have to reassure her."

"Why does she worry?"

"She's afraid I'm going to leave her again, I think. She also thinks I'm going to get better like flicking a switch and she sees that that's not happening as fast as she would like."

"Remember what I said in our first meeting?"

"Feeling good is a practice."

"Exactly. It's meant to take time and be a journey. We're always on it, but we have to be willing to take the next step."

"That's what I've been telling her."

"Do you believe you've been doing that? Being willing in our sessions?" She now had that look where she knew she had contradicted him.

"Well…"

Dr. Albright didn't speak. If there was one thing Ozzy had learned from this woman, it is that she has an iron clad will. She will not say a word regardless of how tense or awkward it would get in the room. When she asked a question, she knew he'd cave eventually.

"I could try a bit harder."

"Perhaps. Remember, Ozzy, I'm here to help give you the tools to unravel all the knots that are locked inside you. I'm here to help in whatever way I can, but I can't do that if you're not willing to try."

"Okay," Ozzy said. "I'll try. Really."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." She looked down at her notes. "You know, Ozzy, I think we need to do more excavation on what made you who you are today."

She wanted to talk about the past. Great. He'd said on the first day that he didn't think that was important because it wasn't. He was sure of it. The last thing he wanted was to go back and re-examine the humiliation of his mistakes.

"Is that really necessary?"

"I think it is. We can't solve a problem unless we have all the pieces."

Why did she always have to make sense? It wasn't fair.

"Where do you want me to start?"

"You tell me. What popped up in your mind first?"

"Um…nothing specific."

"Really? How about your first memory?"

His first memory? He tried to think back to an early memory, or something that he could remember feeling. He thought back to his first day of school, riding a bike for the first time (he had taught himself unsupervised), and even getting an ice cream cone on a summer day. It was so hot that it melted before he could finish eating it.

"There are a few, but I think I was four? No probably five at the earliest. All I remember is being strapped into this stroller that was attached to a bike. I just remember seeing the trees and streetlights for the whole ride. I was being carried along for the ride, but I loved it."

"Who was riding the bike?"

"I don't remember," Ozzy said. "But I think it was a man. I can't remember his face. I never see it in the memory."

He never saw the man's face when he replayed the memory over and over again. He assumed it was a man because his mom's hair has always been long, and the figure seemed enormous in stature alone. Could it have been his father? He didn't know when exactly he left for Mexico, but if it wasn't, then who was it?

Dr. Albright probed with more questions until she concluded, "I think we'll leave it there today Ozzy. Now, let's move on to what we've learned from this session and what your homework will be until I see you next week…"

When they finished the session, Ozzy kept replaying the memory in his head, frustrated that he couldn't figure out who the man was. He walked to his room in a daze and was almost started with the visitor who waited in his room.

His mom sat in the reading chair in the corner with a pan covered in tin foil.

Blair stood in front of her favourite Monet painting in the Louvre. She couldn't remember how many times she'd visited this very painting, and she never grew tired of appreciating it. It was complex, rich, and romantic. It framed everything she wanted in her life with a precision her life didn't have now.

"Serena—" Blair began but cut herself off when she noticed she wasn't by her side anymore. Normally, this would annoy Blair, but they had been joined at the hip this summer, and Blair felt anything but stranded in the Louvre. Serena wasn't one to appreciate impressionist art. She was probably perusing the gift shop.

As Blair appreciated the painting, her mind began to wander. It had been a couple days since she thought about Chuck, a record, but she seemed to always think of him when she returned to this painting. Maybe it was the reckless posture of the man offering his hand to the naked woman in the painting. Maybe she was that woman who instead of looking off the canvas, looked directly at him while taking his hand. She hadn't been the same since.

Amid all of the pastries, fashion trips, and vineyards she'd indulged in this summer, she returned to consider what went wrong with Chuck. She intervened on a family matter, unknowingly, but he had to know she had his best interests at heart. She couldn't help but think Chuck funnelled his anger from Jack onto her. The more she spoke to Serena about it, the more Serena had convinced her that Chuck had taken her for granted, taken what they had and thrown it away once the stability in his life became volatile.

Blair wasn't sure if this was completely correct, she had little to go off from since their last conversation, but she would be lying to herself if she didn't think of him or wonder where he was or what he was doing. She wondered what was happening with Bass Industries but didn't check. Serena made her vow not to. Instead, she distracted herself with her best friend, her fathers, and trying to keep going.

Some days were easier than others. The worst days were the anniversaries. Their first month of dating in particular brought back memories of intimacy that stirred her longing for him. Then, it was Bastille Day where she was reminded that she was in the same position as she was a couple years earlier. Were they destined for destruction? She led herself to believe that they could get through anything, but each major problem they encountered ended with an absolute breakup.

The corners of her lips dipped into a frown as she relived these memories again. Each time, they made her want to crawl into bed and watch Roman Holliday on repeat. At least Princess Anne found a boy abroad. Each date she went on (usually double dates with Serena) were mediocre at best.

Blair left the painting and tried to chase the intrusive thoughts away. She couldn't mope. That would show the Basstard that he hurt her, that he was the one to dump her, and she couldn't have the world know that. She needed to seem like she was carrying on without a care in the world. Thanks to Gossip Girl, it certainly appeared to be the case.

Maybe she would just call Joy tonight again. Despite their distance, she always found her roommate to be level headed with this matter. It also meant that she could think and talk about it without telling Serena, thus breaking her end of the vow.

Blair clipped a corner and found Serena just outside the gift shop. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and giggled at the tall, dark haired stranger in front of her.

A couple years ago, Blair wouldn't approach the pair to interrupt Serena, but this summer she didn't even bother. She was more important than some summer fling and she wanted to get out of the Louvre and fast.

"Serena, I lost you back there," Blair said ignoring the man.

"Blair, I was just talking to Jean here. Jean this is my friend Blair," Serena said in French.

"Nice to meet you," Blair said flatly.

Jean seemed amused at her cold shoulder. "Are you sure she's American?" He joked with Serena.

"Are you sure you're French?" Blair replied.

Jean chuckled. "That's a fair point. I didn't mean disrespect."

"Thank you for your apology."

Serena's eyes widened, and she cut in, "Blair, why don't you wait at the entrance? I-I'll catch up with you in a minute."

"Gladly."

Blair waited at the entrance and scrolled through Gossip Girl for any Chuck sightings. Nothing had been reported since he and Nate were spotted on a yacht in Portugal. They were a short flight away from Paris, but far enough that they were absorbed in their own world.

"Unbelievable," Serena said when she met up with Blair at the entrance.

"What? Did that guy have a boyfriend or something?"

"No, he invited me to go out for dinner," Serena said.

"What else is new?"

"But he invited you too," Serena said. "He thought you were funny."

"He has an odd sense of humor, doesn't he?"

Serena shook her head. "Were you thinking about Chuck again?"

"No," Blair said, unable to meet her gaze.

Serena sighed and linked her arm with hers. "Come on. Stop whatever it is you're thinking about. We have to find something to wear tonight!"

Bart and Lily arrived at their set dinner at the Topping Rose House that evening. The room was full of chatter and familiar faces that Bart tried to avoid with a simple nod of hello. Without Bass Industries, he felt exposed in a way he hadn't felt since he met Philip when they were in their twenties.

When he took his seat, he noticed two couples seated at a table within earshot. The men were in a heated conversation regarding the recent stock market fall and the downgrading of America's credit rating. He had kept up with the crisis in the news, and already thought of strategies to assure shareholders that Bass Industries would not be affected by it. By the sounds of the conversation, the men were concerned for their business. It was an informal business meeting of sorts, one that Bart didn't need to have anymore.

"The trout looks great," Lily said with her glasses perched on her nose.

Bart looked at his menu, but he couldn't stop overhearing the conversation at the next table. They both were speculating on what would happen next, and all Bart could think of after each man finished a thought was how wrong they were. If he were his younger and more brash self, he would consider turning around and telling them what he thought. The right answer.

"What are you thinking of having?"

Before Bart could answer, another voice interrupted.

"Bart? Lily? Is that you?"

It took a couple moments for Bart to place the silver haired couple. They certainly looked familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd known them from.

"Terrance! Gloria," Lily stood and greeted them. "It's so good to see you. How are you both doing?"

Bart stood and noted the names Lily said. Terrance. Gloria. The names rang a distant bell. Gellar. That's their last name. Suddenly, all of the details came back to Bart. They were major philanthropists. Lily has known them for years.

Gloria and Lily were chatting about their children, and Terrance turned to him. "I heard about Bass Industries, and I gotta say, I was surprised! I never pictured you going for early retirement."

It never got easier to answer such a statement since it happened, but every person brought it up when they saw him. He found himself stumbling through an answer, not really sure what he could say. He never wanted an early retirement. He never wanted any of this happen.

"I don't know if retirement is in my future…but something different surely," Bart said.

Terrance shook his head. "It's really gusty to do that at our age, Bart. Things are changing so fast now. It's hard to get back in the game."

"Yeah," Bart said. He hadn't even bothered to look at other options. He didn't even know where to look. He was a CEO. Doesn't that mean he's well qualified? How hard could it be to find a job?

"I'll give you a call so we can get together for tea," Lily said to Gloria.

"I look forward to it. Good to see you both," Gloria said.

Bart and Lily sat back down.

"Well, that was nice to run into them," Lily said. "They're lovely people."

"Definitely," Bart said. He picked up his menu. He knew there was nothing wrong with Gloria and Terrance. They meant well. But that still didn't mean they, and by extension all of their friends, could ask questions and give pity pep talks to him.

Before, Bart earned their respect through his diligence and devotion to Bass Industries. Now that he didn't have that anymore, he felt like he was right where he started all those years ago: Beneath.

"You're awfully quiet, Bart. Did Terrance say something to you?" Lily said.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. He was just giving me advice on how to live after Bass Industries. The usual."

"He was trying to be supportive. We all are."

"I appreciate that. I suppose it's still difficult to acknowledge now that it's out in the open."

"You miss it."

"Of course, I do. I built that company from the ground up. It's like… a child really. If that makes sense."

"It makes all the sense in the world," Lily said. "But all of our kids grow up, leave us, and outgrow us eventually. I remember you telling me that sometimes we have to let things go that we've outgrown."

Bart grinned. "I did say that didn't I?"

"We agreed actually," Lily said. "I haven't looked back since."

"I've tried to do the same." Bart straightened the fork and knife on the napkin to be parallel with each other. "It's more difficult than I could have imagined."

"Mom?" Ozzy said with his hand still on the handle. "I didn't know you were coming today."

"I know I didn't give you any notice, but it's been a couple days, and Philip was out for a business meeting, so I figured we could have dinner just the two of us." She lifted the tin foiled pan.

"Oh thanks. What is it?"

"One of your favourites. Come on, we can eat on the patio just outside the cafeteria."

Ozzy carried the pan, the smell of salsa and spices wafted from under the foil.

Just as she promised, his mother had been around all summer. The longest stretch of not seeing each other was three days, and that was because she went to a wedding with Philip. Things had changed with his mom, but it was a lot of changes that Ozzy still had to get used to. It was the kisses, the affection, and trust that Ozzy found difficult to accept. They all seemed more of a compensation rather than a natural act.

"How was your day today?"

"It was alright," Ozzy said. He set the pan down and uncovered it. Underneath, a southwestern chicken casserole steamed. She kept surprising him with her thoughtfulness.

"What did you do today?"

As a part of being enrolled in their summer program, Ozzy participated in different therapy activities that ranged from visual art therapy, nature walks (they'd bus out of the island for that), and physical and team building activities. Most times, it felt like a glorified day camp.

"We had art therapy in the morning," Ozzy said. He wasn't much of a painter no matter how many classes he took this summer. That's why he had yet to show a single 'painting' to his mom. To call his work abstract would be a generous understatement.

"Then, I had a session with Dr. Albright."

"And how'd that go?"

"It was alright." He didn't want to elaborate any further, but the thought of his memory came up again.

"Do you find it helps to talk to Dr. Albright?"

"It's hard," Ozzy said. "But it's coming."

"Good."

"We were actually talking about my first memory today. I wanted to know if you remembered it."

"I would hope so. What is it?"

"It's a bike ride. I was in the stroller attached to a bike. I remember trees and the sky, but you weren't the one riding the bike. Who was riding the bike?"

Ruby smiled. "You're hoping it's your father?"

"Well, I don't see how that's possible, but, well, yeah."

"It was probably my cousin Whitney and her husband who took you on bike rides then. We were living in Foxborough, a Boston suburb, and they babysat you in the evenings when I worked at a restaurant."

"Oh."

"I know it's not the answer you were hoping for, but it's the truth. We do have family that was there for us throughout the years. Whitney and I grew up together, and she still keeps in touch. Your father was already…you know, back in Mexico by then, and I didn't want to rely on him financially, so I tried to make ends meet. Staying with family did help."

"That makes sense," he said.

Ozzy pushed the casserole around on his plate. For some reason he was disappointed. Most people probably had memories with both their parents, or someone that they were close to. Even though he was technically related to Whitney, they still felt like strangers to him.

His mom talked and talked, and he listened and occasionally responded. But his mind was elsewhere. He thought about what Dr. Albright had reiterated all summer long. Feeling good is a practice. Why couldn't he seem to do that? Why did these memories keep bringing him down? There was something he was missing through all his reflections both in his head and written down in his reflection journal, and now that summer was wrapping up, he was beginning to doubt he'd ever figure it out.

Later that afternoon, Blair and Serena returned to their apartment with their arms full of bags. After such a long dry spell, Blair finally felt in the mood to shop, but it wasn't for the reasons Serena thought. Blair had made it clear all afternoon that she had no intention of going out for dinner with Serena, Jean, and his probably hideous friend. Maybe she'd stay in and watch Tiffany's. Or Roman Holiday. She'd certainly stay away from Charade.

After dropping her bags on her bed, Blair opened the double doors to her balcony. The flowers had been watered and were fragrant as ever. She could see the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, and the Eiffel Tower from her balcony, yet she had the space and seclusion for the city to be a bit quieter.

Blair ignored all of these attractions she had grown accustomed to and sat on the whicker patio chair and checked Gossip Girl again. Again, there were no Chuck sightings. It was still early in the afternoon, which meant he was probably sleeping off his yacht shenanigans with Nate.

Cars honked and brakes squeaked from the road beneath her. A bicyclist rang his bell before making a turn. Blair checked her messages and looked at pictures her father sent her of Cat at the Vineyard with a message that she was missed already.

Maybe she would just go back to the Vineyard? Her father wouldn't mind, and maybe Cat would be the best company for her right now.

"Blair?" Serena called from the living room. "Where are you?"

Serena popped her blonde head onto the balcony. "Since when do you sit in the sun?"

"It's setting."

"Yeah, in like five hours. Jean is picking us up at eight."

"Serena," Blair sighed. "I told you I'm not going."

Serena rooted her hands on her hips. "It's casual Blair. It's not even a date. We're just meeting some…internationals."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Didn't you hear? He's French."

"Come on, Blair. You can't just sit here and mope."

"I'm not ready, Serena."

"You've been saying that all summer, and I get that, but remember when I was trying to get over Dan?"

"Yes, which is why you should be more sympathetic to my situation."

"I know, but you told me then that locals are like Kleenex. Use once and throw away."

Blair was silent.

"I take it, I actually have a point."

"Reluctantly."

"And besides, we're only here for what, a couple more weeks? Then we'll be back in New York, and we won't even remember their names."

Blair tried to avoid Serena's puppy dog look. "Fine. But I can leave early if it's a total bore."

Serena squealed and clapped her hands together. "How could it ever be boring when you're around Blair?"

Chuck and Nate found themselves at Destino again that evening because it was Nate's favourite club in Ibiza. It was located on the cliffs of Cap Martinet above the resort of Talamanc. It was a giant beach party, complete with grand pools, palm trees, and swarths of bikini clad girls.

The sun was setting, and everyone swayed to the DJ's beat. Chuck and Nate leaned against the bar. Nate faced the crowds of people, ready to jump in, while Chuck's gaze found a more interesting attraction. The bartender flipped her shaker and poured five glasses of martinis side by side. There was a rhythm to her routine, as she shook the drink combinations and poured colours upon colours into different glasses.

The bartender was curvier and fuller than Blair. She had straight black hair that was pulled up in a high ponytail. Her hair was streaked with red, and her ear lobes were lined with piercings. Chuck found himself unable to look away.

Chuck waited to catch her attention. He raised his hand a couple times until she gazed in his direction.

"What would you like?" Her w's came out like v's. Chuck wondered if she was a local.

"Scotch. On the rocks. And a corona for my friend."

Chuck watched her free pour the liquor into a glass. She looked past him, bored.

"Where did you learn how to mix like that?"

"Excuse me?"

Chuck leaned forward and repeated his question.

"I studied. Read a few books. Drank a lot."

"You're very talented."

"You Americans and your flattery. And before you ask, no I won't take a shot with you."

"How'd you know I was American?"

"I just know. Take a look around. You think you're the first American that I've served?"

"No, but I'm not just any American."

"Oh really?"

"I'm Chuck Bass."

She planted her hands on her hips. "So?"

He smirked. "It's a big deal. Just google it."

"Does it look like I have time for that?" She punched the total for the drinks in the debit machine and handed it to him.

"What's your name?"

"Aina. Just Aina."

"What are you doing after work Aina?"

"Not you," she said. "You aren't the first American to ask me home either."

"If you reconsider," Chuck said. He picked up his pen from the inside of his linen jacket. He wrote his number on the back of his receipt. "You know where to find me."

He took the drinks and approached Nate who was chatting up a blonde near the pool. When he handed him his beer, Nate looked over his shoulder.

"What is it?"

Nate pointed behind him and took a long swig. Aina had taken his receipt, crumpled it, and tossed it in the trash.

Blair who? C and N spotted at Destino for another late night in Ibiza. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but does it grow fonder for someone else?

Evelyn didn't bother knocking on Ozzy's door. It was always unlocked, and she only had to wave at Jenna, who worked the front desk, to let her through. It was a perk from being a regular visitor.

Ozzy lounged on his bed with his laptop open. His eyes lifted from the screen. "You just missed my mom."

Evelyn sniffed the air in the room. "And I missed food apparently."

"Leftovers are in the fridge if you want some."

"Tempting, but I plan to indulge differently tonight. Grab a sweater and let's go."

Ozzy closed the laptop and grabbed his olive-green hoodie that hung on the handle of his dresser drawer.

They both waved at Jenna on the way out and fell into step on the sidewalk. Ozzy always asked about her day, and Evelyn would offer her weirdest encounter.

"So what mission are we on tonight?" Ozzy asked. At the beginning of the summer, they mutually agreed to explore the island as much as they could. They were the only non-New Yorkers at their school, and they both really wanted to be able to be at any part of the city and know where they were.

"We are going to walk the high line today. Then we'll have ice cream, obviously."

"Obviously," Ozzy said. Most of their nights ended in some form of dessert.

"I know that we've been saying we've wanted to do this all summer, but every time we try to walk the highline, we're either rained out, or busy—"

"Or we miss the entrance?"

"That too," Evelyn said. "But we're going to do it. Right now."

"Alright," Ozzy said.

They took a cab to the intersection of West 23rd Street and 10th Ave. Evelyn led the way with her phone in hand. She looked at her Google maps and up at the buildings around her. This time, she was prepared. She knew what to look for. She could see the length of suspended railway above her. Just ahead, a steel staircase led to the high line.

Evelyn hopped on the top step of the high line where some people walked hand in hand, others jogged, and others walked their dogs.

"This is it!" Evelyn said. "Finally!"

"So it does exist," Ozzy said.

The sun began dipping behind the buildings, refracting orange light around them. As they walked the line, they were lined with flowers gardens, plants and trees. Along the line, they passed red brick buildings they could look into, and beyond a horizon of glass walled buildings. It struck the balance between serenity and urban architecture.

After a group of moms jogged while pushing their strollers, Ozzy said, "Evelyn, what is your first memory?"

Evelyn slowed her step. It was a specific question, a question that she wondered what the context was. "Gee, first memory? Let me think…"

Visions of different feelings and smells came to her first. The mix of gas and grease from a fish and chips food truck came to mind, but she was around ten during that time. She remembered going to an apple orchard and picking apples with her Aunt Kim around the harvest season. She felt like she was missing something.

"This is hard," Evelyn said. "What's yours?"

"Did you ever go on a bike ride with your aunt, but you weren't biking, but you were in this like carriage that attaches to the back of a bike? I remember being in that."

"I think we did, but I can't remember. Why do you ask?"

"I talked about it with my counsellor today, and I just wondered if mine was…I don't know, unusual."

Evelyn didn't usually ask too many questions about his counselling sessions. They were private, and she always thought she'd let Ozzy tell her if he felt comfortable sharing.

"Why would yours be unusual?"

Ozzy gazed at the perfectly trimmed patch grass ahead. "Who's in your early memories?"

The one commonality with all of the memories she thought was clear. "My Aunt."

"I thought my mom would be in mine, but she wasn't."

"Then who is?"

"Her cousin's husband. How random is that?"

"Who?"

"Apparently we were staying with her cousin Whitney just outside of Boston. My mom was working, and Whitney would babysit me. I didn't know that."

"Your mom worked?"

"After she got disowned, she didn't have much choice. She didn't want to take extra money from my father with his business and all."

Ozzy stuffed his hands in his pockets and his lips were pursed. They kept walking.

"So if your mom's cousin and her husband were in your first memory, why is that weird? You've seen them since, right?"

"Not really. I don't remember what they look like. Something is weird about it, but I just can't pinpoint it."

For once, Evelyn didn't know what to say. She didn't know the answer. She couldn't possibly know it. The pain and struggle were written all over Ozzy's face, and there was nothing she could do to help, fix it.

She had to remind herself that this wasn't her problem to fix. It was out of her control.

They reached the end of the walk, and only a pink glow warmed the horizon. They walked in silence, a silence that wasn't uncomfortable. Her Aunt Kim once told her that a friendship was only as good as it can stand in silence. She and Ozzy never seemed to have a problem with that.

"Sorry for being such a downer," Ozzy said.

"Don't apologize. What you need to work through is important."

"If I can work through it."

"You will," Evelyn said. She wanted to reach for his hand, reassure him in a way that he would not only accept, but believe. He needed to believe that he would get better. Evelyn couldn't just keep telling him he would.

She kept her hand at her side. "One day at a time," she said. "And in the meantime, ice cream is always there to make you feel better."

"I can't argue with that," Ozzy said. "Now that I think about it, I think we've tried almost every ice cream shop on this island."

Evelyn let out a laugh. "That's called thorough research."

Ozzy grinned. "That's one way of putting it. Morgenstern's was the best though."

"Agreed. I mean, how can you go wrong with four flavours of vanilla alone? We could just go there now…"

"Could? I think you mean we're going," Ozzy said.

Evelyn smiled. "You read my mind."

"Like you didn't have this planned from the start."

Evelyn tried to contain her smile. She had no intention conceding that he was right. "Tomato, tomahto. Let's go!"

After a couple hesitant attempts, Evelyn hailed a cab. It felt comfortable to hang out with Ozzy this summer. Any jealousy with Dash seemed to dissipate (it did help that he was across the world), and they carried on like no time had passed. Beneath the surface, she wondered if this friendship would last when Dash returned. This summer they had no distractions or burdens from school, but would it be different when they returned? Evelyn pushed the thought away. That could wait until school started.

Spotted: E and O walking the high line in a serious conversation. I wonder what they're talking about? Wouldn't D want to know?

Blair checked her makeup one last time with her Chanel compact. She rubbed her red lips together and puckered. The last thing she wanted was to have lipstick on her teeth. Nothing was more horrific than that. Blair smiled, checked for any red stain that wasn't on her lips.

"They're downstairs," Serena called from the door. She clipped on her second hoop earring and grabbed her purse. "Let's go."

Blair dragged her feet out the door and to the lobby. She spotted Jean easily. He was dressed in a linen suit, and another man stood beside him. His bald head gleaned under the chandelier, and he too wore a dress suit. His shoulders were broader than Jean's and his milk chocolate skin contrasted his white teeth.

Blair stopped abruptly. "I can't do this. It's too soon."

Serena pushed her back. "No, it's not. Oh look, they see us."

Serena smiled as the Frenchmen approached.

"Serena, Blair, you both look exquisite tonight," Jean said. He kissed both girls on both cheeks. "This is my friend Bastien from university."

Bastien shook both of their hands with an easy smile on his face.

"Shall we go? The reservation is for eight," Jean said.

They piled into the small car. Serena sat up front with Jean while Blair squeezed in the back with Bastien. There was no room to move out of the way with Bastien's long legs reaching the height of his chest. Bastien was quiet and carried a peaceful aura around him while Jean carried the conversation from the front seat. Blair half listened while her gaze drifted at the street vendors that lined the sidewalks.

"What do you think, Blair?" Jean asked.

"About what?"

"The Museum of Modern Art," Serena said. "Jean's minoring in Art History, and he's always wanted to go."

"It's overrated," Blair said. "No offence," she said flatly.

Jean's eyes looked at her from the rear-view mirror with in an amused expression on his face. "Honesty shouldn't be taken offensively. What would you recommend I do if I'm in New York?"

"The MET of course. They currently have an exhibit on Alexander McQueen. Well, I mean, if you're into fashion. But it has art from every time period."

"Do they have an exhibit on Monet?"

"Of course," Blair said. "Well, it's not the Louvre, but it's an exhibit I return to."

When they arrived at the restaurant, Blair and Serena sat side by side with Bastien across from Blair and Jean opposite to Serena. Serena laughed at all of Jean's terrible mispronunciations of English phrases, while Blair made small talk with Bastien. He was nice, but his eyes kept drifting to Serena. Typical.

The conversation drifted from academics to travel, to cultural differences, to family. One subject lend itself to another as each member shared story after story. Jean constantly kept Blair in the conversation (Whether she liked it or not). He asked what she took at school. Where she's traveled to. If she had siblings. She wasn't used to boys who were interested in Serena be so inclusive. Usually, they ignored her completely.

Blair contemplated leaving up until dessert, but she didn't want to spoil Serena's night. Serena smiled and giggled, flipped her hair in a way that entranced any man within a line of vision. Her own 'date', Bastien, was under the spell. If she were in high school, this would grate under her skin, bring her insecurities out, but now she just felt resigned. There was nothing she could do about it. There was nothing she could do about what happened with Chuck…Chuck…

"If you'll excuse me, I need to use the ladies' room," Serena said.

A minute after, Bastien excused himself from the table as well.

"Finally," Jean said.

"Excuse me?"

"We can talk."

"Talk?"

"Yes. I don't know if you've noticed, but I think we have more in common with each other than our friends."

"You mean good taste in art?"

"And humour," Jean said. "Let me be honest, and I don't want you to take this the wrong way. Your friend Serena is a lovely girl, but I didn't invite her to dinner to get to know her better. I invited both of you to dinner with hopes to get to know you better."

"Me?"

"Yes. I tried to talk to you in the Monet exhibit today, but you nearly elbowed me out of the way. You didn't see me."

"I did?" Blair cupped her elbows.

Jean chuckled. "You're a very funny girl, Blair."

"That's one way to describe me I guess. I'm sorry if I left any bruises."

"I'll carry the scars," Jean winked. "Look, I don't want to make this awkward between you and Serena as I've picked up that you two are very close friends, but I was hoping that you and I could go for a coffee after tonight."

"Jean, I'm very flattered, but that's my best friend," Blair said. "You should have told her your intentions from the beginning."

"You're right. I planned to tell her after dinner." Jean reached into his breast coat pocket, and reached for scrap of paper and pen. "If it works out tonight, and you would humour me for a coffee, you can reach me here."

Blair folded the paper in her hand and closed it in a fist as Serena returned to the table and slid into her chair. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing really," Blair said and immediately regretted it. What happened certainly wasn't 'nothing'. Blair felt Jean's eyes fall on her.

"Good, because I'm ready for dessert!" Serena said.

Blair had lost her appetite. She listened and spoke little for the rest of the evening while her hand burned from the paper trapped in her fist.

The next day, Evelyn arrived in the Hamptons just before noon. The limo pulled up to the Van der Woodsen estate where Arthur opened the door for her. Even though she worked throughout the week, Evelyn alternated each weekend between visiting Aunt Kim in Connecticut and her father in the Hamptons. This weekend, she arrived in the Hamptons with her overnight bag stocked with a couple dresses, athletic wear, and her bathing suit.

Evelyn was initially surprised that Lily and her father stayed in the Hamptons the entire summer. From what she learned through Chuck, Eric and Serena, that wasn't the norm. Sure, they wold visit for weeks, or weekends at a given time, but now that her father had retired from Bass Industries, he had the time to go anywhere, anytime.

Evelyn still remembered the moment her father told her he would not be working for Bass Industries anymore. She was told the day after her last exam at breakfast. Lily and Eric were out. Her father sat at his usual place at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee. He read the sports section of the New York Times. That should have tipped her off that something was off, but as she listened to him explain to her that it was time to move on from Bass Industries, she wondered how it was possible to ever move on to a profession that wasn't your passion. What would she do if she decided to stop practicing medicine at his age?

Her father seemed relatively calm about the situation, calling it an early retirement, unless something caught his eye. He said it would mean they would spend more time together, and that he could focus on other things than business. While she did feel like they had spent more time together, she was a little disappointed that he stayed in the Hamptons.

Evelyn walked through the foyer and into the kitchen where her father stared at the toaster with a plate in his hand. Lily stood in front of the stove, scrambling eggs.

"Evelyn! Just in time for brunch," Lily said.

"Hi Lily," Evelyn said. She sidled up to her father who continued to stare intently at the toaster, waiting for the toast to pop up. "Does staring at it make it go any faster?"

Her father's mouth turned up slightly. "It helps." Her wrapped one arm around her shoulder. "How was the drive?"

"Good. Traffic was pretty light."

It struck Evelyn to see her father and Lily in the kitchen. Even in the Hamptons, the help usually managed lunch and dinner. She figured making toast was the extent of her father's abilities in the kitchen.

The toast popped and her father scooped the four slices on the plate.

"Work was good this week?"

"Yes. I've got the hang of things now, so it went well. No crazy stories this week."

"Dr. Crespo called, right Bart?" Lily said. She scraped the eggs onto a steaming plate and moved to set the table with bacon and a bowl of fruit.

"He did. He said you've been doing an excellent job."

Evelyn took a seat at the table. "Really? That's a relief." She knew she wasn't doing a terrible job at Dr. Crespo's office, but it was reassuring to hear that her work was good. Dr. Crespo was always so busy, they only spoke in passing for most of the day.

Her father set the buttered toast on the table. "Does being a doctor still appeal to you now that you've seen what it's about all up close and personal?"

Evelyn used the tongs to help herself to bacon. "I think it does. I know professional school is so far away, but I really like this specialization. It's important but happy most of the time. You get to help life be brought into the world."

"Listen, Evelyn, you have plenty of time to make up your mind. This is an excellent experience that you can put on your resume for college, other jobs…," Her father said.

"I'm glad I took it. Thanks for helping arrange it."

"It's no problem at all. Whatever it is you need, you just let us know and we'll find someone who can help you forward."

Evelyn smiled. Whenever she brought up her future, her goals, and possible careers, they always made it seem so easy. You want to go into fashion? Talk to Eleanor Waldorf. Finance? Philip Montgomery. Regardless of the profession, there was someone on the island they knew who she would be directed to for their expertise. It taught her how important it was to have connections no matter how wealthy you are.

"Have you heard from Chuck?" Evelyn said. "I texted him yesterday, but he hasn't responded."

"Last time we heard, he and Nate were in Ibiza. They'll be coming home next week to get ready for school."

Evelyn was somewhat disappointed that Chuck spent the summer overseas. She missed him too, and hoped to spend time with him when he came back.

"How's Ozzy doing?" Lily asked. "I was thinking about him and his mother Ruby the other day."

"He's okay. It's going to take some time, but it's been good being close to him this summer." Evelyn scooped a spoonful of eggs onto her plate. "And how's the Hamptons been?" Evelyn asked. "I'm surprised you've been here for most of the summer!"

"I can't speak for your father, but it's been absolutely lovely," Lily said.

"It's been…different," Her father said. "I'm still adjusting."

"Long walks on the beach at dawn help," Lily said. "Do you have any plans this weekend?"

"None that I'm aware of. But, I did remember to bring my squash racquet, so we can play."

"That's a wonderful idea," Lily said. "You two should go this afternoon."

"We can," Evelyn shrugged. "If you want to lose."

Her father chuckled. "Is that so?"

"The choice is yours."

Her father's eyes seem to light up, as if this competition gave him an opportunity to fight for something again.

"Game on."

Blair waited for Serena after dinner. She and Bastien had left with in the car, while Jean and Serena were left behind. It had been an hour since she returned and Serena was still nowhere to be found.

Blair reached into her purse and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper from Jean. Could it be true? Could this be the first time someone had chosen her over Serena?

Blair didn't expect to feel the way she did. When Serena was in this position, she felt inferior, less than. Forgotten. She never thought of what it would feel like to be in Serena's position. She imagined she would feel good, wanted, superior.

But that's not what she felt. She felt bad, unworthy for something that was out of her control. She texted Joy who hadn't answered and flipped through the British Edition of Marie Claire.

The door opened, revealing a drenched Serena. "Hi."

"Hey," Blair said. "Why are you all wet?"

Serena wrung the end of her ponytail. "I got caught in the rain on the walk home."

"Walk home? Why didn't you just call a cab?"

"Couldn't find one." Serena walked to the bathroom and picked up a fluffy towel.

"So…how did things end?"

"About as well as you could expect if I walked home alone. And get this, he not only dumps me, but says he went on the date to meet you!"

Blair's eyes found the tile floor. "I'm sorry."

"Don't B. It's not your fault."

"I know. He told me when you went to the bathroom, and I didn't know what to say…to him or to you."

Serena sighed. "It's okay. He wasn't interested in me. He didn't string me along, and it shows he has good taste if he was infatuated with my best friend."

Blair shook her head. "I don't understand why. I was awful to him."

"From the way I understand it, I think he found you refreshing."

Blair reached for another towel and said, "Come on. You need to change or you'll get sick."

"Yes, mom," Serena said.

Blair sat on Serena's bed as she changed in the closet. She returned, hair still wet, in silk pyjamas.

"Some date, huh?" Blair said.

"You're telling me. You're the one who didn't want to go!"

Blair shook her head. "Thank you for dragging me out."

"Did you have a good time at least?"

"I did…until dessert. I'm really sorry S. I told him that you were my best friend—"

"He said the same. You don't have to apologize, B. I know you are a good friend. You always have been."

"I'm not apologizing for Jean. I'm apologizing because all these years I never understood what this was like. Everyone always liked you, and I was so stuck in how that made me feel that I never could see it from your perspective. You didn't ask for that to happen, you never did, but it just happened."

"It's a powerless position to be in actually. It's easy to feel stuck."

"That's right," Blair said. "When you came back from the bathroom, I just felt stuck. I wanted to tell you what happened, but I didn't want you to get your feelings hurt."

"Feelings are complicated," Serena said.

"You're telling me."

"So…" Serena said. "Are you going to see him again?"

"Why would I?"

"Because I give you permission, and…could you ask for a better Kleenex?"

Blair pushed Serena's shoulder playfully. "No way!"

"It's like a silk handkerchief actually," Serena said.

Blair rolled her eyes. "I get your point."

"Yes, but what's stopping you?"

"Chuck."

"B, you can't let him control you like that forever," Serena said.

"I know, but I thought it was going to be forever. I mean, look at my life. When have I ever had a fling?"

"Lord Marcus?"

"I'm serious, S. I don't think I'm made for casual dating. Seeing Jean again is just a waste of time."

"But you haven't done it, so how do you know?"

"I just know."

"No. You're being stubborn. Just have one coffee with him. You don't have to kiss him or anything. You don't have to do anything that you don't want to do. Think of it as meeting a friend. Sure, Chuck might come back in your life, it's unavoidable once you're both on camps, but that doesn't mean your life has to stop before that happens."

"Okay, fine. I'll try, okay?"

Serena smiled and threw her arms around Blair. "I love you, B."

"I love you too, S."

Chuck took a walk in town the next morning. He left Destino early after he struck out with Aina, leaving Nate behind. Nate didn't argue. He was busy with a red head, who Chuck would have probably met if he had stayed at their suite in the morning.

Chuck wandered through the narrow streets following the smell of fresh baked bread. If it was one thing he loved about travelling through Europe it was the bakeries. In each country he visited, he sampled different breads, croissants, brioches, and custards. While New York had plenty of bakeries to offer, there were something special about the quaint hovels that housed the burning stone ovens, fresh cappuccinos and espressos, and blooming flowerboxes.

Chuck wandered and noticed other shoppers carrying bags of bread from the bakery on the corner. He hadn't tried this bakery on the island yet, but with by the looks of the baguettes and croissants it would be a winner.

As he approached the entryway a woman lit up a cigarette. He wouldn't think much of this at first, he normally wouldn't notice her despite the piercings on her ears, the tattoos though that threaded around her arms, but it reminded him of someone familiar. Someone he'd seen from the night before.

"Aina?" Chuck said.

She looked up from her cell phone. She didn't recognize him at first and Chuck tried not to be offended.

"I'm Chuck Bass. The American at the bar last night?"

She took a long drag from her cigarette. "I bet you're not used to people forgetting."

"I suppose there's a first for everything."

"Where is your friend? "

"Entertaining a lady friend."

"And not you?"

"I didn't see anyone I wanted to entertain. And I do remember you crumpling the opportunity in your fist."

She grinned. "You're observant." Aina took another drag. "You can sit down if you want."

"After I order a coffee. Excuse me."

Chuck returned with a croissant and an espresso. Aina twirled the cigarette in the ashtray.

"Where in America are you from?"

"New York."

"Brooklyn?"

Chuck almost choked on his espresso. "Manhattan."

"Ah, like Friends?"

"Something like that."

"I've never been to America. Only Paris, Madrid, and Barcelona, but not anywhere outside of Europe."

"You should. New York is the best city we have to offer."

"Really? I always thought that was Los Angeles?"

Chuck scoffed. "If you want tinsel, then that's the town for you. If you want platinum, then New York is better."

"You're very proud. You said your family is important in America?"

"Relatively."

"What does your family do?"

"Real estate."

"Ah, so you come from a family of crooks. Always taking money from people."

Chuck took a sip from his espresso. If only she knew that his family took money and power away from each other. "We're not all bad. We help develop emerging cities in the world too."

"I'm sure. At a cost. Is that what you plan to do someday? Run the company?"

Now that Jack had full control the company he wasn't so sure. So many people had told him how he would take over the family business and continue the family name in real estate, but that didn't seem to be an option anymore. Not with Jack in control of the company.

What did he want to do? He started to think about this last year when he started college, but now the question was more immediate. What would he do? What was his plan B? Jack took away plan A when he refused to let him in on the Thailand project, and instead leveraged it to keep Chuck busy while he excavated enough information to bury his father.

"It isn't likely I'm afraid. I'll have to blaze my own trailer just like everyone else."

"With a lot of money behind you," Aina said.

"What about you? What do you plan to do someday?"

Aina shrugged. "I'll go wherever the wind takes me. I'll do whatever is in front of me. I've never found much use in planning ahead."

Blair always planned ahead. Chuck knew for a fact that Blair had already planned her life all the way up to a wedding, how many children she would have, and the lifestyle she would like to lead. Chuck didn't have to think too far back to Blair's most recent plans. Chuck remembered near the end of their last school year, she made all of these elaborate plans of what they would do when she would visit him in Thailand. Those plans were never used.

"I've often felt the same way. Too much planning can ruin the moment. This whole trip has been based off of my friend Nate and I making decisions in the moment. The only thing we have planned is the date we need to return to America."

"Your friend…have you two known each other for long?"

"Since preschool."

"Wow." Aina shook her head. "I just met my current friends a month ago. I don't know what happened to my friends from school. Most leave for university, or move to another country in Europe."

"And you stayed?"

"I study in mainland Spain, but I came back for the summer. It's different to come back, especially to an island like this. It never changes. These buildings? Have been here for centuries. But it changes once the people you know aren't there with you. It can feel like you don't belong."

Chuck didn't think about how it would feel like to return to New York. He didn't leave home like Aina. He didn't lose touch with his friends. How would this fall be different since he and Blair weren't together anymore?

Blair. He couldn't forget her no matter how hard he tried.

"That must be very difficult," Chuck said.

"It's life. It's harder especially if you leave behind a lover. A lot can change in a few months."

He knew all too well. Things could change in one night.

"How long are you staying on the island?" Aina said.

"I haven't planned on leaving anytime soon. That would require planning."

"Well, if you would like another chat, you can let me know." She picked up an unused napkin and wrote her number on it. "I think I owe you one after last night," She said, handing him the napkin. "Don't crumple it up."

He didn't plan on it.

Ozzy scribbled in his thought journal while he waited in Dr. Albright's room on Monday morning. He'd written four pages, twice the amount he usually wrote. He wrote down every detail of his first memory, and other things he remembered. He remembered little details from bigger scenes he couldn't remember. He remembered a small galley kitchen with yellow walls. A starfish night light. Besides these isolated details, he couldn't attach where he remembered them from.

Then, Ozzy had another idea. He had lived in 13 different places. He let the pen drag his hand across the page, line by line, as he listed all the places he lived. His mom had filled in some of the gaps from the early years, but his first home was New Jersey. His pen dragged across the page, rhyming off Boston, Houston, Los Angeles, Hartford, and now New York City.

It was spectacular really. Most people could pick three places on that list as places they'd want to visit alone. Those with wanderlust would be jealous, but the list reminded him how tiring moving was. It wasn't the movement of things that was hard but starting over again and again that was.

Ozzy began a fifth page as Dr. Albright arrived. He kept his head bent and scribbled. When he sufficiently finished writing his last idea down, he looked up at Dr. Albright.

"Sorry, I just had an idea that I needed to write down," Ozzy said.

"No need to apologize, Ozzy. It's wonderful to see your thought journal being used."

"I just had one idea and it led to the next, and then…"

"It snowballed? When we're trying to find what we want to say, that usually happens. Snowballing can lead us to our destination."

"I hope so," Ozzy said.

"It will," Dr. Albright said. "How was your weekend?"

"Uneventful," Ozzy said. "I went home and it was just my mom and I."

"Since we last talked, you had a visit from your friend Evelyn?"

"Oh yeah. We walked the high line."

"That's a great trail. Did you like it?"

"I did. It was so weird to think that was an old railroad track."

"It's amazing what we can repurpose from our past to pave a way to a greener future."

Ozzy wanted to open his journal and write that down. It was one of those things that was said to him that felt important, that felt worthy to be remembered.

"I told her about my first memory," Ozzy offered. "I asked my mom about it first."

"And what did your mother tell you?"

"She told me the man on the bike was her cousin's husband. They looked after me when my mother worked in the evenings."

"What did you think of that when she told you?"

"I was confused. I mean, I was disappointed. A part of me hoped I was remembering my father, but I knew deep down that it was impossible. Still, I hoped. It's just…isn't it weird to have a first memory with strangers?"

"Not necessarily," Dr. Albright said. "Sometimes our first memories can be fractions of thought. A feeling, a smell, a particular sight. It doesn't have to be with someone close or far from you."

"Oh."

"If you could choose, who would be in your first memory?"

"My parents. Or my mom at least."

"I see," Dr. Albright scribbled a few notes on her page. "I think your memory tells us something very important, Ozzy, but not in the way you'd expect. Perhaps what's important for us to focus on is not necessarily what was in your memory, but what wasn't in your memory."

"…my mother?"

Dr. Albright shifted in her seat. "If you could make a movie of your memories, would your mother have a starring role?"

"Umm, well yes, or no…"

Dr. Albright remained silent as Ozzy collected his thoughts. She was present. But at times she wasn't. It was difficult to say. Maybe she had a starring role in his formative years. Yet, there were times when he grew older that she left, got swept up with different men.

"I think my mom would come in and out. Especially since I was in eighth grade."

"Do you resent her for the times she was out of the picture?"

"…I probably do a little bit. She says she was trying to do her best, but sometimes it didn't look like it."

"What times?"

"When she would first get into relationships. The guy would be around a lot, and I was a third wheel. It seemed like she would try to please them in any way she could so they wouldn't leave."

"Why do you think she would need to do that?"

"I know there were times when money was tight, but she obviously never told me that. I learned recently that my mom didn't want to accept money from my dad because of his business. She didn't want any trace leading to me. She was determined to do it herself, I think. I think it wore her down."

"How does that make you feel?"

"I dunno. It was hard to watch it wear her down over the years. I think she's good now, but if this last one didn't work out, I don't know what would have happened."

"Did you think it would work out?"

"No."

"Why?"

"The other ones didn't. Philip didn't seem any different. I still don't feel like I know him."

"But you do know Dash."

"Somewhat."

"I think you know him better than that from what you've told me."

"Yeah, fine."

"Have you written about your mother in your journal?"

"I didn't think about it." He focused so much on what he couldn't figure out, that he didn't think about thinking of where the root causes came from. He didn't think to consider his feeling about his mother. Philip. Dash. Evelyn. And everyone in between.

He would have to start from the beginning. The beginning to the end. How long would that take?

Ozzy opened his journal. "One second." He clicked his pen open and made a list beside the places he lived. He wrote down the names of the most important people he interacted with in each place he lived. He put his mom at the top of the list above everything else. After he finished writing down Dash, Philip, Thom, Catherine, and Evelyn's name (her second appearance) beside New York. He put his pen down.

"I think I've been approaching this wrong," Ozzy said. "I've been stuck all summer because I was too busy looking for what I did wrong, but it's not about me alone. It's about how others have influenced me and made me feel. That can tell me why I'm stuck feeling this way. Does that make sense?"

"Of course, it does. Family and peers are extraordinary influential on how we view ourselves, how we feel, and the decisions we make."

Ozzy wrote that down word for word. He would need to remember that with each entry. "I think I know what I need to do." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's going to take a lot of time, but I think I need to go through every person on this list and think about, I don't know, everything about what I remember about them, how I felt, why I did certain things…"

"I think that's an excellent idea," Dr. Albright said. For a woman that was unforgiving during most of their meetings, she did crack a smile then.

Ozzy looked down at the list and back up to Dr. Albright. "Thank you, Dr. Albright."

"Please. I know it's protocol to be formal here but start calling me Jane."

Coffee turn into a walk, and a walk turned into lunch and lunch turned into another walk on the beach for Chuck and Aina. It was completely unplanned, but the more that he talked with Aina, the lighter he felt. He learned more about her family, and she learn more about him. She didn't ask about his lavish lifestyle New York. She asked about his family life, school, and alcohol. Things that mattered. The more time he spent with Aina, the more he realized his status meant nothing here. It was refreshingly to not feel that burden.

Chuck shared what he learned from his mixology club, and she told him what she'd learned from her experience bartending.

Aina cocked her head to the side and examined Chuck. "My, my, Chuck. You have money, school, friends, but no girl?"

"I don't do girlfriends."

"Not even one? I find that hard to believe."

"I did date this one girl—"

"Ah, I see. Let me see if I can guess the story. She broke your heart, you broke up, and you're trying to forget her?"

Chuck watched the waves crash on shore. "That's a good guess."

"In my experience, any guy who tries to talk to the bartender and avoids all the girls around him usually isn't over a past love."

"Or he's trying to get with you," Chuck said.

"Not in this case," Aina crossed her legs on the flat rock. "What happened?"

"She went behind my back and helped my uncle undermined and take over my dad's company."

"And here I thought it was something like you snore too loudly or something," Aina chuckled. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks. I mean, she may not have known that was what was happening. My Uncle did manipulate her, but this isn't the first time she did something without telling me in order to 'help' me. I can't trust her. Especially if it's against my family."

"You care a lot about your family."

"There are only three of us myself included. We need to look out for each other. When we're divided…we're vulnerable."

He was just as guilty of being led astray by Jack himself. It caused the original divide between himself and his father. It gave Jack the opportunity to swoop in.

"With a lot of money, the stakes are higher, aren't they?"

"They are."

"What's her name?"

"Blair."

"Blair. Where is she now?"

"Paris. Her father lives with his husband on a vineyard. She's been there all summer."

"And you're still here?"

"Yes. We needed space apart."

"But you both talked about what happened?"

"Briefly."

"From my experience, you won't be able to move on unless you really talk it out. Whether it brings you together or ends things, you need to tell her how you feel, and listen to how she feels too. That part might be tough for you."

"What makes you say that?"

"You like to be right. I've noticed."

"And you don't?"

"I wasn't talking about me. And besides, I don't always want to be right," she shrugged, "I am right. Difference."

He chuckled. "And how does that work for you in your relationships?"

"I'm single again, so not very well."

Aina smiled, and he noticed she had a gap between her teeth. He couldn't see the creases reach her eyes when she smiled, but he knew they were there. He liked this. Being with her. Talking. Nothing more.

"I'm surprised your friend hasn't called you yet. Shouldn't he be worried?"

"No. If I don't show up by tomorrow, then he'll worry."

Chuck checked his phone. No messages. There was one blast from Gossip Girl. Blair and Serena walked with two men to dinner last night. Blair wasn't smiling.

"I think it's time," Chuck stood from the rock.

"For what?"

"Time to leave the island."

Aina nodded. "Paris?"

"Paris."

Aina stood up and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck."

"Thank you," Chuck paused the volume of his voice dropping. "For listening."

"I'm a bartender. It's what I do."

"If you ever find yourself in America, let me know."

She raised her phone. "I will. You've really sold me on New York, but on one condition."

"What's that?"

"If your family is as successful as you say, I need to see it for myself. I expect a suite to stay in on the house!"

Chuck smiled and shook his head. "You got it."

On her way to Dr. Crespo's office, Evelyn's phone rang. She checked the display, eager for Dash's name to pop up on screen, but was equally elated when she saw her Aunt Kim's name flash on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Good morning Evelyn. How are you?"

"I'm good Aunt Kim. A little tired, but good." Evelyn returned from the Hamptons late last night after an unexpected road closure made returning to the city take much longer than expected.

"I just wanted to call you about the long weekend. You are coming to visit still?"

"Yes," Evelyn said. "Absolutely. I'll be coming on Thursday since Dr. Crespo is on call that day. I think I'll be leaving after lunch."

"Good. Your Uncle and I look forward to it."

Ever since Aunt Kim surprised Evelyn with a visit in the spring, there had been few disagreements between Evelyn and her Aunt. When Evelyn visited every other weekend, Aunt Kim was always excited to see her. It wasn't like old times, but their relationship had changed. Evelyn considered their relationship to have grown over the summer. Aunt Kim now trusted her to drive by herself with her licence for one, and she asked about Dash regularly. She even spoke with him on Skype when he'd call Evelyn.

"How's work been?"

"It's good! I'm on my way now. Today is Monday, so that means all of the pregnant woman will be stopping in unless they went into labour on the weekend. Some were pretty close."

"Amazing. And how is Dr. Crespo?"

"He's good. I think he mentioned something about a lunch this week? I think it's for my last day."

"That's very kind of him."

"He's been a great resource. He knows so much Aunt Kim," Evelyn said.

"And so will you one day."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. Another new development in her relationship with her Aunt was her Aunt's insistence on her future success. She brought it up casually in conversation as if it were a fact, but Evelyn knew it was far from it. From everything she learned at Dr. Crespo's office, becoming a doctor was a long and trying process. It was a process she wasn't deterred from taking after this summer, but she still wanted to enjoy the fact that those decisions weren't here yet.

"So what are we going to do this weekend?"

"Whatever you want," Aunt Kim said. This was another development. Aunt Kim rarely used to give her choice. Perhaps this was a symptom from not living with her now. She didn't waste time with petty fights and was more open minded.

"Are we going to see the fireworks at Belview Park this year for labour day?"

"We can do that! It's a tradition after all."

Evelyn used to look forward to the fireworks every year when she was a child. They marked the beginning of a new school year, and all of her friends and their families celebrated together under the stars. Things had changed since then. Her friends had moved on. She had moved on.

Meeting up with her Connecticut friends weren't making her giddy this year. She didn't even know where half of them were. If anything, what made her giddy was what was to come after the fireworks. Dash was scheduled to come home this weekend, and she couldn't wait to see him.

Just last night, Dash had sent her a picture of his suitcases, counting down the days until he returned. Everything would finally be back to normal then.

In the meantime, she looked forward to shadowing Dr. Crespo for a couple more days. But she had a countdown of her own. After a three-year roller-coaster that was high school so far, Evelyn counted down to the end of the beginning. She was counting down to the beginning of the end.

Bart walked into SageTown Coffee around the same time he would normally drink his coffee and read The Financial Times in the city. He still did that at Lily's estate, but today he wanted a change of scene. He wanted to be near some form of hustle and bustle, and SageTown was one of the best for that at this time of day.

The bell above the door jingled. Bart immediately faced a lineup, and promptly took his place. He checked his phone for more messages. He only had spam in his email box, and Chuck hadn't read his latest text. Is this what it felt like to be retired? It seemed so…boring.

Bart shuffled as the line inched forward. Great. Now he was waiting in line for a coffee. A man dressed in a business suit took his coffee and a brown bag turned to leave the front counter. As he turned, his gaze met Bart's and a look of recognition registered on his face.

"Bart?"

"Philip? What are you doing here?"

"I had a dinner party last night at the Van der Builts with Ruby. I'm on my way back to the city now. I hope to be in the office before lunch. I didn't know you were here all summer. I'm so sorry, things have been so busy with Bass Industries lately…"

"It's alright. Once I realized I didn't have any obligations in the city, I stayed. First summer vacation since high school."

"That's incredible," Philip checked his phone. "I should be going or I'm going to be… you know what? We should have coffee right now."

"Don't you have to get back?"

"It can wait," Philip said. "I think I've earned enough time off by this point don't you think?"

"Certainly." Bart turned to the barista and placed his order. Espresso with almond biscotti.

"I have to say," Philip said as he took a seat. "I was really thrown when you stepped down. I remember having this conversation with you, but I didn't feel like I got the whole story."

"It's really simple, Philip," Bart said. "It was time to move on."

Philip shook his head. "But we had so many plans for the next ten years. Why bow out now?"

"Bass Industries will always keep growing, no question. I just thought now was the right time to pass the legacy on."

"I suppose. I just thought it would be passed on to Charles, no offence to your brother. He's doing a serviceable job right now."

"Serviceable?"

"Well, you might not be interested in Bass Industries, but there are a lot of changes going on."

"What kinds of changes?"

"A total rebranding of the company. Luxury condos and hotels are out, speakeasies and clubs are in."

"Really?"

"Well, hotels and condos are still being purchased, but there is a diversification strategy in place. I must admit, I'm not sold on this new direction. It's incredibly risky."

Not to mention, unoriginal. Bart remembered when Chuck pitched this very same business proposal a couple years ago. It has merit, but Bart was doubtful Jack could be the best person to launch a rebrand like that.

"He was also thinking of taking the company public?"

Bart almost spat out his coffee. "Public?"

"I had the same reaction. The board voted against that decision."

"Does he not realize how making Bass Industries a publicly traded company make things all the more volatile? Investors can be handled; public shareholders are fickle. That's outrageous."

Philip's lips quirked into a grin. "I thought you were over Bass Industries?"

Bart sipped his espresso. "It takes more than a day."

"I'm surprised you haven't mentored Jack for this position. The transition seemed…to not overlap."

"It was mutually agreed upon that it was better that way. Our approaches are clearly too different."

"Clearly," Philip said. "If you're really done with Bass Industries, and if you find yourself bored with retirement, I can ask around to see what's out there. I'm sure there are many companies who would really clamour to have you as an experienced CEO."

"That's very kind of you Philip."

"Hey, we go way back. I helped you once get into the business and you returned the favour. I'd be happy to do it again."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"Also, I would be lying if I didn't feel more obligated since our children are dating. You never know where that might lead."

"That's very true."

"And if Evelyn has been feeling down this summer from Dash being away, I take all the blame. I was the one who made sure Dash took the internship. I wanted to keep him focused on building his future and getting some unique experiences that will help set him apart this year."

"Evelyn had the same idea. No need to worry about my daughter. She has kept herself quite busy."

"Glad to hear it." Philip checked his phone. "Unfortunately, I have to go back to the city now. I have a car waiting for me."

"I hope the traffic won't be too bad," Bart said.

"It is what it is. Anyway, I mean what I said, Bart. If you need anything, let me know," Philip said.

They shook hands, and Bart watched Philip duck into the waiting limo. Finally having someone in his corner was a welcome relief. Yet, there was a nagging feeling that Philip couldn't help him in the way he needed. No one could.

When Chuck return to the suite, Nate was lying on the couch with his hand over his forehead. His eyes were closed, his lips downturned. The click of the door caused his eyes to open.

"Hey man. Where've you been?"

"Exploring town. You look worn out."

"I'm fine. Just a headache."

"Then take a couple aspirin because we're leaving."

"Ibiza?"

Chuck stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I already booked us two tickets."

Nate sat up quickly. He groaned and clutched his skull. "And you didn't think to ask me if I was ready to go? Where are we going anyway?"

"Paris."

They say it's easy to forget your troubles when the weather's warm, but all it takes is one fall breeze to blow reality back in your face. Watch out Blair. He who sows the wind reaps the storm.

Bisou Bisou,

XOXO Gossip Girl

A/N: And there you have it! This was a quieter and more transitionary chapter than the end of part two was, but everything will pick up again in the next chapter onward. I can't wait to share where this story is going with you all!

What's the title of the next chapter you may ask? It'll be titled "Say Nothing..." What do you think will happen in the third act of the story? What do you want to see happen? Let me know in a review!

Till next time,

XOXO EZ11