Chapter 4 of In Love & War

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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"Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."
James Baldwin

She felt the room had stopped to look at her. She was probably right, of course – Blair Waldorf hadn't really gone to many social events of this magnitude since her fiancé had left her and then killed himself. It wasn't that she was a social pariah, and the fact that they didn't have money was certainly not uncommon anymore, but the fact that she had made a grand entrance made people stop and look.

She shivered in her skin but kept her chin high as she slowly descended the marble stairs. Her eyes were wide as people in their fine dresses (probably the best they had) laughed gaily as champagne kept flowing. She hadn't seen this kind of grandeur in years. Leave it to Chuck Bass to throw a party like this.

She carefully milled around the buffet table, and her eyes widened as she saw lobster, shrimp, caviar… Oh, caviar… Just one more taste…

She discretely grabbed a water cracker and spread the caviar on it. She sighed, smiling.

"Blair Waldorf!"

The cracker was in her mouth, and she didn't even have time to swallow it before she was interrupted, shaken from her five-seconds in heavenly delight.

She slowly turned and nearly grimaced. Anita Kline wearing none other than the last dress her mother had made her – the one she had been unable to pay for. Technically, the dress was hers.

"Mrs. Kline," Blair grimaced, nodding and swallowing the caviar. It was heavenly, it really was.

This woman should not be at a party. Her husband had just killed himself! Honestly, people had no sense of dignity left.

A waiter milled by with champagne, and Blair quickly grabbed a glass, relishing the feel of the coolness in her hand.

"Darling, you look beautiful!" Anita went on. "Your dress is spectacular."

"Yes. A Waldorf original… Like yours – only I paid for mine," she snapped and walked away, leaving the very insulted woman behind. She was leaving in a few days, no use in keeping up face with the bitch.

She watched the dance floor as people floated together, laughing gaily as if the world was not falling apart around them. Chuck's living statues were present, his very favorite, and the crowd consisted of the very people who despised him and his new money. She rolled her eyes, hoping she wouldn't run into him.

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When he no longer felt like an asthmatic idiot, he started following her with his eyes. She looked stunning. From her perfectly tailored dress to her soft brown curls that hit right above her shoulders, to her ruby lips and her lovely legs… He was mesmerized.

Jacob stared at him and followed Miss Waldorf with his eyes as well. His stomach tightened painfully… This was not good. This was so not good.

Chuck watched as Blair made a bee-line for the food and smirked when she instantly chose the beluga caviar. It was her favorite; she had good taste, that one. He slinked in the shadows, hiding behind pointless conversations that tasted of the fear of war.

She looked startled when a woman came to her; he got closer, intent on listening to their conversation and nearly burst out laughing when Blair spat: "Yes. A Waldorf original… Like yours – only I paid for mine."

He smirked, following her form as she studied the dancers and circled the party, intent on enjoying herself.

After a while, he felt like a stalker. Which is exactly what he was at the moment. It was amazing how money changed the title people held. He watched for a bit until she decided to head out to a balcony, and he slinked to follow her, ignoring Jacob's disapproving look.

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She took a moment to breathe as she leaned against a pillar. It had been so very long since she'd been a soiree that she had forgotten how exhausting they were. The smiles, the endless fake compliments that held double meanings behind anything and everything.

She relaxed a bit when a familiar song came through and smiled. Moonriver… Probably the last time she would hear it and be in New York. She became melancholic. It was all ending… Everything was just slipping from her fingers at an astronomical rate.

She sighed, turning her head, and there he was.

She felt all the air knocked out of her as he stood watching her – eyes still as dark as onyx.

"It's been some time, Waldorf," he drawled out, dressed impeccably, as always, in his black suit and green bow-tie.

"Chuck Bass," she smirked, determined to bring her indifference to life.

"I heard Nathaniel and yourself reconciled," he purred, scotch in hand and smirk in place.

"For a minute," she nodded and turned from him, then cursed because he was making her shiver, making her tremble.

"I'd ask about your mother, but she came to see me," he drawled.

She froze, feeling a chill up her spine. Her mother wouldn't. Couldn't. Shit, she would.

Her mind went back to the moment she had gotten out of the elevator, dressed in her black dress and gloves and carrying a personal invitation. Her stomach dropped, and she looked away sharply.

"My mother's not well. I hope you didn't take anything she said seriously," she spat.

"Still on a high horse," he leered. "Quite an accomplishment for someone in your position." His voice was low and poignant.

She reeled back and stared at him. "Why are you here? Why are you talking to me?"

"It's my party, which you gladly came to," he growled, and now they were close, closer than they'd been to one another in years – in lifetimes.

"You left, and you didn't even look back to see how your friends were!"

"If I remember correctly, I didn't have any friends left," he replied, head tight and recoiling.

"Your own doing," she countered, her small hands balled next to her.

"No thanks to you," he hissed.

"How long are you going to blame me?" She asked, coming even closer.

"How long are you going to pretend you haven't used your lovely hands for manual labor?" He stared at her once-manicured hands.

Her eyes went wide, and she cursed. She should've worn her mother's gloves. Yes, they had a tear, but at least they would cover her hands. "I hate you. I hate you, your money, and everything you say."

"Hate is a powerful emotion." He walked away from her.

Her mother's words were ringing in her ears. 'You were raised to be a princess. He's the only prince left.' Her mother was wrong. She'd rather die than marry Chuck Bass and let him sweep her off to his Scottish estate were he was rumored to live. She – they – would make it on their own.

The moment he was no longer in the shadows, she let out a breath and closed her eyes. She was still shaking from the encounter. How was it that after all these years, after all the things she had to endure, he still got her so very angry, so very upset and ready to cause mayhem? She shouldn't have come. Coming was a mistake. She needed to leave. Needed to get things ready to make it out, needed to leave, to live – she needed… Dammit, she needed anything but Chuck Bass.

Then a sudden overwhelming need to scream at him came over her, and she turned to follow him.

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He fumed as he walked away. It was a mistake coming to New York, a mistake throwing this party, a mistake inviting her, a mistake investigating her, knowing too much – why the hell had she come to his place to begin with?

She had started it all, and now she wanted to show her claws? Well, fuck her and her little blue dress!

He nearly toppled over people in his way as he made his way the private quarters he had reserved for his own personal use. He slammed the door behind him and began to pace hardly noticing the sparsely furnished room around him. He grasped his drink and threw it against the wall.

A scream shook him as he turned and found Blair looking at him with wide eyes. The door had closed behind her and he hadn't even seen her there. Hadn't even heard her come in. She stood breathing hard and looking at the spot where the glass had shattered.

"I'm sorry," he said automatically.

She turned and looked at him.

And they simply stared at one another – afraid of who said what and when they said it and with what intention they said it.

"T-thank you for inviting me," she finally said, taking a large gulp of air. It was like she had suddenly turned asthmatic.

He paused and stared at her.

"You're welcome," he replied. He looked at the glass on the floor. "You should've made your presence known. I wouldn't have done that."

"And interrupt your bitch attack?" She snapped.

"The fire below," he said quietly.

Her cheeks flushed, and she narrowed her eyes. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. We were friends once," she stated.

He chuckled softly. "If that's what you want to call us."

Her nostrils flared as she looked at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"We were never just friends," he walked to her, hands in his pockets, and she backed away instantly.

"That's all you were to me," she stated plainly with a defensive stance. This didn't deter him. On the contrary, she saw the glimmer in his eyes as he stored the comment away for later ammunition, and she cursed her own stupidity. She had been out of the game for too long.

"Always too busy chasing around Nathaniel, I remember," he smirked, and she looked away. "Did they invite you to the wedding?"

She shivered.

"Must've been a slap in the face… Marrying the poor girl. The simple girl…" He circled her like a vulture.

It wasn't that he wanted to hurt her; it was that he was so very angry at himself for letting things get so very out of hand, for bringing these people back into his life, for making himself care once more. It was poison to his soulless soul.

Lashing out at her made it all the easier.

"… Leaving you all alone –"

"For your information, I left him –"

"And to think of all the drama before I left –"

"If you would've stayed, things would've worked out –"

"Between us? I hardly think so – I'd rather die –"

"Than to touch me?"

"Perhaps that, perhaps than to be near you –"

"Then why did you invite me –"

"Perhaps I was sentimental –"

"You have no 'sentiments' left –"

"Why are we arguing about this?"

"Why are you here?" She finally cried.

He stopped and stared at her. She was a hairbreadth away from crying, and he had to look away. "I missed New York."

She looked at him, shaking her head. "You didn't get the memo… I see. There is no New York left."

"You're still here," he commented, and his eyes glided up and down her figure, indicating that she still dressed, talked, and acted the same way she always had.

Her shoulders visibly slumped, and he finally saw it there… The scared little girl with too much responsibility on her shoulders. No longer the proud woman of a moment ago.

"I'm leaving," she explained, and for a moment he thought he had fucked everything up with his words and his resentment… But she looked at him with those wide brown eyes that bore into him and brought out, all too clearly, his humanity.

"There's the door," he spat. What was wrong with him? He had a case of severe verbal diarrhea.

"I meant New York," she continued softly. He turned sharply to her and studied her crest-fallen expression, and his soul melted against his rib cage as she sunk into a leather chair, her small frame look tired and weary.

He said across from her without a word, waiting for her to continue.

"I'm tired… Chuck. I'm just tired," she whispered. His body remained so very still, afraid that he would break her out of this spell of confession she had fallen under.

"So… I put on this dress, and I came here not knowing why or because… But more as a goodbye…" A small tear dribbled down her rose cheek, and he swallowed. "… To dance one last time… To have caviar… Taste champagne…" She smiled and unconsciously touched her neck, and that was when he saw it.

His necklace. His mouth fell opened.

She had no home, no money, had sold her parent's wedding ring for twenty dollars, but she still had his necklace.

He looked away and to the floor. Unable to prevent his heart from swelling any more, he clenched his fists.

"… So I am sorry for screaming," she apologized, finishing her own trip down memory lane.

"So am I," he said quickly.

They were quiet, neither daring to look at one another.

"He really needed you, you know," she said softly, running the pads of her fingers over the worn leather of the chair.

Chuck's jaw clenched, and he looked at the movements her fingers were making.

"When his father left… When they were left without money… He needed his best friend," she was nearly whispering now, but he heard every word. Every single word.

"I didn't think he'd want me around," he answered. "Didn't think anyone wanted me around."

Her eyes were wide as she turned and studied him. "Things would've worked out eventually…"

He stood abruptly because it was getting to be too much for him now. Too much. She was so close, looking so absolutely beautiful… Saying these things, making him regret 101 things that he thought he had come to peace with…

"Chuck?" Her voice was stronger now and her features were set.

He studied her as she stood now before him, taking a sharp breath.

"Dance with me?" She looked almost shy. "I know you said once that you didn't want anything to do with me… But I really need to dance, if only one last time."

Now, Chuck Bass was not a sentimental man, he really wasn't, but he didn't know why her words made him want to hold her and reassure her that she would have loads and loads of dancing until she passed out with glee.

But Chuck Bass was going to do no such spectacle of reassurance. Instead, he nodded slowly and offered her his arm. She looked downright relieved when he acquiesced to her request and quickly took it.

He opened the door for her and led her through and through it all. She couldn't stop staring at him because he was just as handsome as she remembered him to be. All sharp angles and set jaw with lips just full enough to be enticing.

Jacob stopped what he was doing the moment he saw them walking out of the room and towards the dance floor. Diligent as ever, he scurried and found the DJ, instructing him what to play and nodding satisfied as the crowd stared at the couple that took over the dance floor.

Blair let out a small laugh when the song began to play.

"I guess this makes you the beauty," he commented, knowing full well this was not a typical music selection he had picked. He would rim Jacob later for it.

"And you the beast," she smiled, relaxing into his arms as he expertly twirled her around the floor. The crowd seemed to stop breathing as the couple elegantly enchanted them and made them reminisce about a time where this was normal.

They would've looked away, they should've looked away, but there was something magnetic about this moment. The last time they had danced together they, had broken up and resorted to doing horrible things to one another. And here they were… Years later, completely different situations surrounding them, and they could still dance flawlessly together.

The song ended, and they quickly dropped their hands from one another. He cleared his throat and led her off the dance floor. She spared him a glance as he tugged at his collar – she had to focus on that because his hand on her back was burning a hole into her. Into somewhere deep.

Once they were away from curious and envious eyes, she was able to look at him without flushing she took a breath.

"Thank you for the dance… For everything," she said softly. She paused. "I'm going to go… home…"

He turned sharply and stared at her. "It's not even twelve."

"I think I better go before the spell of niceties between us wears off, and we're just left with… Reality," she smiled softly, remembering fairytales of her childhood.

He gulped.

She smiled at him once more. "You take care of yourself, Chuck Bass."

He stood rooted on the spot, unable to breathe, unable to see… But the fact that she was no longer before him shook him so hard that he unconsciously grabbed a glass of floating champagne from a waiver and gulped it down in one swift motion.

Before he knew it Jacob was next to him.

"Sir… Is Miss Waldorf gone for the night?" He asked.

Chuck cleared his throat. "I'm retiring, Jacob – get the car."

"But Sir, you're guests –"

"I already saw who I wanted to see," Chuck snapped and turned, fully expecting the limo to be waiting for him before he made it to the doors.

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The moment the limo stopped before her apartment, she sat back and let the evening wash over her. She smiled softly… In the end, Chuck Bass had given her a fairytale moment. She felt more like a princess than she ever had all her life growing up full of decadence and splendor.

But this was it. It was now past midnight, and the fairytale had ended… And she was back to her life, her life in shreds where the carriage was no longer magical, but now a temporary loan and Prince Charming was fading quick and fast.

Yet something she was sure of, above all the things she knew, was that she would remember this night for the rest of her life. Just like she remembered her first time with him, because it was her own very first time. His kisses, his lips, the way he held her… The way he stared at her.

She smiled, looking down and touching her neck… The necklace… Her eyes went wide.

Shit!

She drew a sharp breath. Had he seen it? Of course he had seen it!

She was mortified! He must've thought she was throwing herself at him again! After that moment in the bar all those years ago, she swore she would never speak to him again, and then she showed up with the one item that meant something and – oh, God!

She quickly scurried out of the limo, tripping on her heels and, before she knew it, she had lost a shoe! A fucking shoe! Who loses a shoe? And the limo had driven off, and she was left in the cold night with a shoe missing! It was her last Jimmy Choo!

"This is too much," she muttered to herself, shaking her head disbelievingly.

She limped up the stairs, absolutely pissed at life. She should've known better than to think she would have a chance to panic by herself, but no – there were her mother and Dorota, sipping hot cocoa and waiting for her.

"Blair!" Her mother cried, happy to see her. Then she stopped. "Where's your shoe?"

"The limo stole it," she snapped.

"The limo?" Dorota asked, confused.

Blair sighed and fell on the seat. "He sent a limo, and I tripped getting out and lost a shoe," she growled.

"Did you see him? Did he see you?" Eleanor demanded, and Blair nodded, intent on ignoring her madness.

"Yes," she replied. "I saw him, he saw me. We saw each other," she said vaguely.

Dorota and her mother inched closer, and she let out a breath. Honestly! Was her life the new prime-time drama? Everyone waiting in anticipation as to what happened between Blair and Chuck?

"Did you have a good time, Miss Blair?" Dorota finally asked.

This she couldn't control. Because she really had had a good time.

"Yes…" she said softly, remembering the room, the dresses, the dance… "I had a wonderful time."

Eleanor squealed happily and stunned Blair silent. She'd never heard, seen, or imagined her mother squealing.

"When will you see each other again?" She demanded.

"Never, Mother," Blair said plainly. "This was it. He'll go his way, I'll go mine… My life is heading down a completely different path than his."

Eleanor looked downright confused and disenchanted with life.

"But Miss Blair…"

Blair stood quickly. "Help me out of the dress, Dorota. We have a long day tomorrow… We start packing the little clothes we have."

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He had tried to sleep. He really had. But had been unable to. He was now an insomniac.

Apparently he was also impotent because, despite the blonde beauty snoring on his bed, he had been completely unable to perform.

Now even a lift. Nothing.

He stood slowly, staring at the clock. It was now 6:14 AM. He walked out of his room, closing the door behind him and going to the front door of his apartment where Jacob was waiting diligently.

"I take it it's a good morning, sir?" Jacob asked, nodding for the breakfast tray to be brought in.

Chuck walked to his bar and poured himself a scotch. A triple.

"Or not," Jacob commented lightly.

"Get rid of the body in my bed, will you?" He demanded quietly. Jacob nodded and swiftly walked to the room, dragging out the half asleep girl and taking her out of the apartment as Chuck studied the tray of fresh fruits that had been wheeled in.

Jacob was back, folios at hand as Chuck dismissed the man servant and poured the scotch into his coffee.

Jacob raised a brow.

"Sir, we have business to discuss." Jacob insisted.

Chuck waived his hand for him to continue as he ate a croissant with a honey spread.

Jacob raised a brow but continued resolutely. "The investors have negated your proposal…"

Chuck stopped mid-bite and stared at him.

"… With all due respect, sir – they still believe that your image is reckless and does not stand for a moral necessity they feel the general public needs." Jacob pushed his glasses up, trembling slightly. "… And therefore do not trust for you to be responsible enough for this project."

"We're selling fuel to the US army!" Chuck roared, all melancholic thoughts forgotten.

"And since the war is thought to be formally announced any day now, they feel that having a strong moral image in the face of adversity is exactly what the company needs. The image of a – and I quote, sir – 'a globe-trotting playboy with too much time and money on his hands,' is not the face they want to represent their money."

Jacob set down his papers and swallowed.

Chuck was staring ahead, too angry to think.

"And they want a formal answer from you on your rebuttal by… Noon, sir." Jacob looked away.

"By fucking noon…." Chuck sighed angrily. "My father build this company from the ground up, we don't need those antiquated buzzers to influence the decisions my company makes and much less my image."

Chuck began to pace.

"I'm not even a public figure!" He snapped.

"Ummm…" Jacob tried to interrupt.

"The press is lucky if they get a picture of me!"

"B-but sir –"

"I live in Scotland, for fuck's sake!"

"You've been chosen, sir –"

"This is your job to make sure shit like this doesn't happen –"

"As the most eligible bachelor, sir."

Chuck paused and stared at Jacob. "What?"

"It's only in California, but you've been chosen as one of the top ten most eligible bachelors in the world… So you've become quite public… Sir." Jacob didn't know where to look or what to do.

"How did this happen? Why didn't we control this –"

"I can't keep up with small publications all over the world –"

"So you're saying you can't do your job?"

"Sir, I believe what you're angry at is the investors, not the magazine or myself – your humble assistant."

He had a point. Damn the skinny, balding man!

He cursed and stood once more staring out into the city. He'd been distracted lately. That couldn't happen again. The well being of entirely too many people depended on him keeping this company running and profitable.

"Sir… I've also tracked down your step-sister and her husband…" Jacob said quietly. "They're working in one of your Kansas fields, sir."

Chuck slowly turned and cursed once more. "Please make sure he's promoted to top management…"

Jacob noted quickly the details on his pad. "Your step brother is also with them."

"Make sure they're taken care of," Chuck replied. "And Lily?" Chuck swallowed.

"She… umm… D-died last month, sir," Jacob explained quietly.

Chuck said nothing, did nothing, thought nothing. He'd already lived in guilt over that one, and he had learned to stop thinking of his doings after his father's death. He'd been a child, and he'd been angry.

"Sir… There's also something I need to show you." Jacob went to the door and grabbed something wrapped in a velvet cloth. Chuck turned and stared at the item in his hands.

"What?" he demanded.

Jacob slowly unwrapped it to reveal a shoe.

What the –

Chuck's eyes softened with realization.

"She accidentally left it in the limo… They brought it over this morning." Jacob attempted not to smile as Chuck reached out and slowly took the small black shoe from the burgundy velvet cloth.

"Quite fitting, no, sir?" He asked quietly as Chuck stared at the size eight shoe, transfixed.

"Jacob…" Chuck whispered, feeling the weight of the small shoe in his hand. "Get the car… I'm going to see the Waldorfs."

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Blair didn't sleep that night. She was becoming an insomniac. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw herself strutting happily around with the damn necklace around her neck as Chuck looked on at her knowingly.

She groaned, upset still with herself and the entire 'enchanting' evening. She had already cleaned the bathroom and was getting the mop ready when her mother finally woke. The first thing that her mother had commented on was her hair. She hadn't done her hair, just thrown it up in a pony tail and kept going.

While Dorota prepared some oatmeal in the kitchen, she started to mop the floor – pointless, she knew. They would be leaving a few short days, and she had other things to do. Like selling the damn necklace and possibly the dress she had worn the night before. But it kept her busy and prevented her from thinking too much.

Once she finished with the main area, she changed into her decent pants and a sweater because it was becoming rather chilly.

"You didn't sleep, Miss Blair," Dorota noted from her end of the table.

"I have a lot of things in my mind," she snapped, and then sent her an apology with her eyes.

Eleanor softly hummed and drew designs on a notebook Blair had found last week on her way back from the fish market.

Dorota nodded, and that was when breakfast changed. The elevator dinged.

Dorota quickly looked at Blair, and Blair stiffened.

They hadn't had a formal visitor in over a year. Where they coming to formally evict them from the home? Her breath caught short as she pushed herself off the table and scurried to the main living area.

Dorota and her mother followed close behind, and that was when she was sure she was seeing things because no city man stepped out of the elevator intending to place the apartment on foreclosure.

No, not that. It was worse. Far worse.

Out walked none other than Chuck Bass in a crisp white suit, a hat, and a bright blue ascot.

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To be continued

A/N - I hope you all are happy now that they've talked, if any of you read the preview you'll see I changed a few things, which I did for the sake of the new storylines that have come into play