Chapter 6 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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"Only choose in marriage a woman whom you would choose as a friend if she were a man."
Joseph Joubert
She'd come.
The men stood up when she entered, greeting her.
She'd come
That sentence was repeated over and over in his head until he thought he'd go dizzy.
"Chuck." Blair turned to him, still smiling with wide brown eyes that gave not a hint of the broken girl he'd seen that morning. "You didn't tell me Prissy was in town!"
Chuck looked at one of the investors, who was looking adoringly at Blair and her coquettish smile.
"We went to Yale, she and I," she continued. "I would love to meet her for tea this week."
"I'm sure she will be delighted," John Causkos, the stiffest of the investors, answered.
Chuck hid a smile. Then Blair did something he didn't expect – she scooted over to him and slid her arm around his waist, pulling him in. He felt his entire body stiffen, and she gently squeezed him for reassurance. He relaxed and responded by placing his own arm around her shoulders.
"I suppose I won't get my romantic lunch, will I?" She looked at him with pouty lips that made his throat go completely dry.
"Why don't you join us, Ms. Waldorf?" Kevin responded, staring at her legs longer than Chuck would've liked.
Kevin Gilbert was a young heir in his late 20s, and just the type that Chuck abhorred. Handsome, twelve-feet tall, blond, and with a Colgate smile that blinded people. He was entirely too good natured and was well known to being the perfect catch.
Blair looked innocent enough. "Oh, but you all will be talking business, I would be so bored."
The men laughed delightedly. Kevin's eyes were still on her legs.
"Honestly, all this business talk bores me, gentlemen," she laughed gaily.
"No business today – Charles, we didn't know you were engaged!" John beamed at him.
"Oh, it was very recent; we haven't even had a chance to announce it!" Blair smiled, placing her small hand on his chest, and he nearly choked when he realized she had on a ring. Fuck, her mother's ring.
That's it. Jacob was fired.
"Sit down, sit – tell us how you two met," another inquired.
Blair was in her element, crossing her legs and leaning forward with a smile. "It's all rather romantic; we've known each other since we were children! He pushed me once in the playground, you know."
The men laughed, completely captivated. Except for Kevin, who was looking at Blair in a way that Chuck had seen before… On his own face.
"We grew up together and briefly dated in high school, then after all these years we found each other once again." She was glowing, he noticed. Then she turned to him, and he knew what she wanted.
He'd been silent since she entered; if they were going to make this work he was going to have to do some work himself. So he did what he had to do.
He took her hand and gently kissed the back of it, the corner of his eye watching Kevin closely. He didn't like the bastard already.
"But you know how it is, gentlemen, when you find the one." He smiled and looked at them. She was staring at him in awe, slightly taken aback by his tone of sincerity.
"Charles, this is cause for a celebration," John nodded. The men murmured in agreement.
As they continued their chat, neither one of them noticed that they hands remained firmly attached to one another's – like a life link.
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He closed the door behind them right after lunch.
"How did I do?"
He turned to look at her, all her false bravado was gone and her eyes were wide and questioning. He honestly didn't know how to answer that. 'Perfect' could've been a response, but he didn't like all the feelings that coursed through him at her little hands all over him. Holding his hand, petting his hair, tugging his collar, her hand on his knee, pressing her back to his chest… Normal coupley-like stuff that he wasn't used to.
He was used to women pressing him against walls, wriggling under him, moaning in his ear, scratching his back… Not this soft and caring girl in his arms that he didn't know how to handle.
So he became a jerk.
"Great, great – especially with you not being able to take your hands off me," he leered.
The insecure face was instantly replaced with narrow eyes and flared nostrils.
"I'm your fiancée – that's what we do!" She spat and walked to his mini-bar, taking his favorite scotch and pouring herself some.
"And you've had plenty of experience with that," he snapped, still smirking and taking a moment to look over her curves.
She glared at him and gulped back her drink, grimacing.
"Turned to hard liquor, have you?" He asked, sauntering over to her.
"I haven't had a drink in two years," she whispered, wiping her lip as he poured himself some because he desperately needed it.
"My condolences."
She stared at him.
"Ok. Ground rules," she began, and he smirked because he loved seeing her like this, in charge and bitchy.
She set down her glass and stared him down. "Separate beds, separate bedrooms, separate bathrooms, separate everything."
He arched his brow and leaned back on the wall.
"My family gets taken care of, and you don't touch me unless we're in public," she spat.
He nodded, still amused.
"I want to save the penthouse, it's been in my family for four generations. I want a cat, I don't want Dorota to work, and I don't want anyone to know about my mother's condition."
He swallowed his liquor and stared at her.
"I also want to be involved in the business," she finished.
He sputtered. "Now hold on –"
"I sure am. If you think you've gotten yourself a little housewife to sit in on tea parties, you're in for a surprise," she snapped. "I want to oversee production, look in on investors, and do public appearances. I also want a list of charities in which we participate in –"
We?
"Thus I can better see where exactly our money is going." She took a breath and looked away, looking slightly vulnerable once more. "And… I don't want to have children."
He gulped and stared at her. She was as much a firecracker as she'd always been, always in charge, always bossy and always stunning. She was also a sad story.
"Can you please shut up?" Chuck whined as eleven year old Blair continued.
"And we'll have a boy first, we'll call him Nathaniel – like his father. Boys should always be named after their fathers." she said reverently. "And then it'll be the girl, and we'll name her something regal like 'Natalia' or 'Anastasia'."
"So you'll be bearing babies for the rest of your life?" He sneered.
"So what?" She snapped. "Children are the product of their parents' love."
"What if you love someone but don't want to have kids?" He asked.
"That's crap, Chuck Bass! Everyone wants to have children!"
He stared at her, taking in her averted eyes. He should've shut his fucking mouth, but part of him wanted for her to know that he knew.
"That's not what you used to say when we were eleven," he said quietly.
Her eyes widened softly, but she still did not meet his eyes.
"Chuck Bass, I'm not having children – most especially yours. And if that's going to be a problem, then you might as well call the whole thing off. Because I'm not." She took a breath, finally meeting his eyes. "I'm just not."
Now… Chuck Bass was not a man whose heartbeat betrayed inner emotions, filled with turmoil, filled with something else warm and… gooey. But apparently, his heart hadn't gotten the memo because it was a strange sensation that went through him as she refused to confide in him what she had done to herself.
Blair, for her part, was shaking. No one knew. No one. Her mother and Dorota and that had been it. She'd kept it her little secret – mostly because she didn't even like thinking about it. She preferred telling herself that she never wanted kids. Her hips would never be the same, her boobs would sag… It would be a disaster. Yes, life without children was better.
She stared at him because, for all she knew, Chuck Bass already had a few little spawns crawling around.
"Works for me," he finally nodded. "I never wanted children, either."
He came closer, knowing full-well that it would make her uncomfortable.
"But… a marriage is not a marriage until it's … consummated," he said, low and deep, hitting an inner chord in her ear drum and making her shake uncontrollably.
"I'm not sleeping with you," she replied, pushing him off.
He chuckled. "It's not like we haven't done it before and enjoyed it. I can also guarantee I've gotten even better. If that was even possible."
She grimaced. "Do you always have to be so crude?"
"Do you always have to be so very proper?" He countered.
She decided on rolling her eyes because neither of them was going to win this argument.
"When is the wedding?" She finally asked.
"Soon," he walked away, twirling his scotch. "Any day now, the war will be announced, and I don't plan to be in New York when that happens."
Her face paled as she looked at him. "Why?"
He stopped and stared at her. "Why do you think? What city will hit the heart of what is left of the United States?"
She gaped at him, clutching her own chest. "They wouldn't." But his serious face told her everything. "I have to get Mom out of here," she said, eyes wide.
He took a breath. "My plane got clearance to leave in six days." Her head snapped up and stared at him. "We have to do it before then – I don't think we'll be able to get a window clearance once the war begins… It'll be too dangerous to cross the ocean then," he continued.
She took a seat because it was all coming so very fast and so very clear that it shook her thoroughly. He watched as she trembled slightly on his couch.
"To Scotland?" She asked quietly.
He nodded, taking a seat across from her. "Yes… New York won't be safe until the war is done."
"Serena… And Nate…" she whispered. "Chuck, we have to help them."
He looked away. "I already did… I mean, I tried. Serena and Eric are safe in Kansas, the war won't go inland, but… I can't get any more information on Nate and Vanessa."
She was staring at him curiously. Here he was, having abandoned them while he lived the life of a sheik, and now he wanted to help? A little bit late, if you asked her, but at least he was trying. And he was the only one of them that could help the others.
"Did you ever speak with Nate?" She asked quietly.
"No…" he replied sadly. "I never made the effort."
She looked at him – his regret was evident in his voice and his body language, slumped down low and broody. They had been brothers, Nate and him. Nate always the golden one with an easy smile and Chuck the dark, mysterious one with the evil smirk, but they were each other's yin and yang. And it had all been destroyed because of her.
"I'm sorry… about everything… about Nate… I'm sorry we were so young and stupid that we didn't fix it, and now it's too late," she said, and he stared at her.
"We were young and stupid," he agreed, giving her a tight smile.
"Where do we start?" She finally asked.
Chuck stared at her. She looked resolute and brave, like she was bracing herself for a horrible hit. He admired her then because he knew if Blair Waldorf was something, it was brave. She had no problem marching up to people and being as mean and devious as she needed to be. While others shied away from confrontation, she was more than willing to meet it head-first.
They were alike in that way; in moments of desperation they thought about themselves and their own, and they were willing to fight tooth and nail for it.
She was a fiery little thing. If he had ever decided to marry for love, he knew without doubt that Blair would've been the one he would've chosen… If things were different.
"Today… with the right help, we can put together a semi-decent Upper East Side wedding," he said. "I think."
She stared at him – that's right. No running down to the court. She'd get a dress, flowers, photos… Everything that a girl dreams of.
They had to put on a show, like they'd just done. A show at being in love.
The truth was that she'd forgotten what it felt like to be in love. Was it passion ignited by need and want? Unable to breathe without that person? Or was it something softer? Something perhaps… that she'd never felt before? Something like standing next to that person and simply looking over and smiling and being lost because you're seeing a mirror of yourself born into a whole new body and somehow you've managed to find that other body? Who was lucky enough? Really? To be able to think the same, act the same?
Is that what a soul mate was? Who knew? Who even knew about them? Had anyone really seen theirs? Was there time for soul mates in time of war? Was there really time for love?
"Jacob!" She watched as Chuck called for the man who had giving her the ring… The ring!
"Chuck!" She cried, and he turned sharply to look at her as she slowly stood. "Explain." She pointed to her finger.
He stared at her hand, and she watched as his jaw twitched. "You're welcome," se said simply and turned, continuing his instructions.
She watched him. No apologies. None. Just expecting gratitude. She glared at the back of his head and decided she understood perfectly clear how old married couples felt.
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"Oh, Miss Blair…" Dorota whispered, all teary, as Blair tried on the dress Chuck had gotten for her.
Blair stared at herself in the mirror. Less than thirty hours ago, she had accepted Chuck's business proposal. Here she was trying on a vintage Badgley Mischka and wearing pearls.
The move out of her family home had been the hardest because Eleanor didn't want to leave. And they had cut the light that afternoon. Jacob promised her he would take care of making sure the home would be in her name and would be kept safe until New York itself was safe once more.
Now her mother, Dorota, and she were in a private suite opened specially for them. They had a maid that Dorota hated and glared at her every once in a while. Blair insisted that Dorota was no longer here for that, but the woman couldn't help herself and insisted on taking care of Blair, or so she had told the young girl who was scared as hell of the Hungarian.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Blair's eyes widened.
"Miss Waldorf, it's Jacob."
"Oh!" Blair quickly made to open it, but was met by a stern glare from Dorota, who went to the door instead.
She opened the door and glared at the man.
"Miss Blair busy," she informed him.
He blinked at her, pushing his glasses up.
"I do apologize, Dorota, however – Mr. Bass has asked me to bring these in," he ground out, not happy about having to go through Blair's bulldog.
"Miss Blair ok," Dorota huffed at him.
Jacob moved to reveal two men with trunks.
Blair walked to them. "What are these?"
Jacob looked confused. "Your clothes, ma'am."
Blair looked at Dorota, who looked back at her. "My… clothes?"
Jacob nodded and nearly pushed Dorota out of the way so the men could wheel in her 'clothes'. And they set the trunks in the middle of the room, nodded, and left. Blair walked slowly to them and asked Dorota to open them.
She stared in and surely her old self would've rejoiced at the prospect of a man buying her all these clothes… There were shoes, dresses, purses, headbands, jewelry, underwear… A whole wardrobe.
"Where is he?" She asked Jacob.
Jacob stuttered. "I-in a meeting."
She arched a brow.
"Or in his room," he answered, looking away.
She lifted her skirt and marched out, pointing for Jacob to lead the way.
"But…" He paused and stared at her. "You're in the wedding dress, Ma'am."
Bair rolled her eyes. "Trust me, bad luck? I can handle."
She followed Jacob down a hallway and up one floor to the elevator, where Jacob pointed to Chuck's suite. She went and knocked.
"Busy," she heard the muffled sound from the other room.
"It's your wife to be!" She called out.
She heard shuffling, and that's when she realized… He wasn't alone. Shit, she shouldn't have come, she should've sent a thank you with Jacob. She was so ridiculous – she had wanted to thank him in person, but it seemed like a horrible idea now, standing in her wedding dress, while he shagged some ditz.
She took a deep breath and quickly made it back, past Jacob, who looked like he would rather be picking corn, and into the elevator. Her large skirt was swooshing behind her.
The elevator faced his door, and she pressed the 'close door' button fifteen times. He opened the door as her own doors slid closed, but just for a moment, their eyes met. She could've sworn she heard him call out her name, but it was muffled by the door closing. As they slid closed, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
Of course he would have women.
They were only having sex on their wedding night to 'consummate' the marriage. And that was it.
She didn't expect him to stay celibate, did she? Out of all the men in the world, not Chuck Bass. Most especially not Chuck Bass.
Chuck stared at the closed doors as he buttoned up his shirt.
"What did she want?" He demanded of Jacob.
Jacob, who had decided a long time ago (well, maybe a few hours ago) that this was the most bizarre love story he had ever had the displeasure of encountering, decided to just go with the truth.
"Sir, I believe she wanted to thank you for the items you sent to her suite." He cleared his throat.
"Thank me?" Chuck asked, confused.
"Y-yes, sir."
Chuck stared at the elevator, leaning his back against the frame.
"Was she in the wedding dress?" He asked quietly.
"Yes," Jacob answered, staring at him.
Chuck clicked his tongue and re-entered his suite, slamming the door behind him.
Jacob stared at the closed door and sighed. His job used to be simple. Women messed it all up.
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She would just take the clothes and shut up. Just shut up about it. Of course he would get her clothes. She needed to be his perfect wife, he obviously didn't expect her to go around in the drags she had left in her own closet.
She fumed as Dorota began packing her bags and her mother helped her out of her dress.
"I'm sorry we couldn't use your design, Mom," she told her as Eleanor concentrated on hanging the dress.
"You will," she said lightly, nodding at the dress.
Blair smiled at her mom. "You think I'll marry again?"
"No. But you'll wear it." Eleanor was satisfied with her hanging abilities.
Blair stared at her back and shook her head. Her mother was becoming stranger and stranger.
"I wonder where he got all this," she wondered out loud as Dorota stared at a pair of Prada shoes.
Dorota made a derisive sound and shook her head.
"Everything is vintage…" She whispered.
"When you rich, you get things," Dorota stated wisely.
"I suppose…" Blair murmured.
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The next couple of days went like a blur for Blair; there was people coming at her from every direction. In times past, she would've basked in it, but now it felt strange not to worry about the things that had been haunting her every day for the past few years.
No worries about money, always plenty of food, always warm, clothes for her mom and Dorota, her own bed, Dorota anxious because she felt she had nothing to do, Jacob always providing everything she needed and even things she didn't think she needed at all…
By the third day, she was exhausted. Dorota was busy helping Eleanor shower and dress, which left Blair to lie on the couch about to pass out. The floor was covered in luggage and wedding things.
That's when Chuck went to see her for the first time after their elevator encounter.
"You've been busy," he remarked. He looked to be heading out with a coat and gloves in his hands. His signature scarf still alive and well around his neck.
She opened an eye and stared at him. "I'm exhausted."
He chuckled and swatted her feet for her to move so he could sit down.
"Weddings usually stress the bride," he murmured, studying a box by his feet that contained her veil.
She closed her eyes and sighed once more. "And never the groom."
She heard him chuckle, and she frowned. Why did he always have to find things humorous?
"Listen, we need to talk…"
"I don't want to – last time we agreed to talk, I got into this mess," she snapped, and he smirked.
"It's about Scotland – site of your future home?" He teased, and she glared at him.
The thought of living in some far away Scottish castle did have its appeals, she wasn't going to lie. She hadn't traveled in years, and she longed for the days when she could jet off at a moment's notice. She stared at Chuck, who was staring at her, almost as if he was trying to figure it all out.
In two days she would be his wife. He would be her husband.
She felt sick.
Unusually girls had time to anticipate this, look forward to it – fall in love. But not her. Not Blair Waldorf.
Oh, God! She would be Blair Bass soon!
"You look sick," he commented.
"My name," she breathed. "It's going to be Blair Waldorf-Bass. I want to keep the Waldorf."
"As you wish," he nodded. "You'll find me to be a very pleasing husband."
"How very Jane Austen of you," she replied and closed her eyes again.
"Blair… about Scotland…"
She opened her eyes once more because he sounded serious.
"What? What about it?" She asked.
"It's not… It's not what you're thinking it'll be," he said carefully.
She studied his profile as he looked away, his hands playing with his gloves.
"What's wrong with it?" She was nervous now. She was dragging her family with her in this.
"Nothing is!" He answered defensively. "It's just… It's been home. So it's not what you'll expect."
She arched a brow. "Explain."
He seemed to shake himself out of the confessionary mood he had fallen under and stood up abruptly.
"Never mind," he said and made for the door.
"Chuck!" She cried, standing up and following him. "What is it?"
He slid his hands back into the gloves. "No, never mind – I'll see you at the wedding." He stopped and looked her once over. "You looked great in the dress, by the way."
She opened her mouth to respond, but he was gone before she could formulate a thank you. So this troubled her, of course. She was now pacing back and forth despite her protesting limbs until she was able to get Jacob.
"What's wrong with Scotland?" She demanded the moment he entered the suite.
He looked downright confused.
"Chuck said it was not what I expected," she explained, wriggling her hands. "What's wrong with it?"
He looked down and took off his glasses, cleaning them.
"N-nothing is wrong with it, Ma'am. It's his home," Jacob informed her.
What did that mean? What was that supposed to mean? She didn't know – at this point she didn't care.
That was when the first bomb fell.
It shook the entire building, and it made her fall on the floor. She rolled over, narrowly missing a glass lamp that would've fallen on top of her.
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To be continued
AN - So there's an update! If I have one tomorrow it'll be late cause I haven't even started on the new chapter.
