Chapter 22 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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"If the people we love are stolen from us,
The way to have them live on, is to remember them.
Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever."
The Crow
Melanie had woken around five in the morning and begun her routine of yelling her lungs out as if Blair hadn't just fed her a few hours before. So Blair quickly ran to her room and picked her baby up, holding her against her chest and rocking her back and forth. The maids knew to leave a warm bottle by the crib, so she picked it up and held it to Melanie's waiting lips. The baby quickly clung to the bottle and suckled, her eyes closing in ecstasy. She made a loud happy sound and Blair stared down at her.
"You eat entirely too much," she told the baby, and the baby continued in ignorant bliss. She was healthy, though she hadn't started out that way. After the condition her mother was in when she was born, she was seriously lacking nutrients and had bad colds a couple of months ago. Now she ate and ate and she was a round, happy baby.
Her eyes had begun to change into the strangest color Blair had ever seen. It was an aqua blue. As if Nate's and Vanessa's colors had merged and formed a new one. It was the color found in a clear ocean. It was stunning. She also had a beautiful set of dimples that she showed off when truly happy. Her hair was a dark brown color with soft waves to it, and Blair thought about how stunning she would be when she grew up.
She was very dainty. A true girly girl. She possessed all of Anne's old grace – once or twice Blair had even seen her little pinky raise when chewing on one of her toys. She also looked stunning in pink, yellow, and green.
Once she was done and the bottle nearly empty, Blair changed her diaper as she squirmed and kicked her chubby baby legs. Blair smiled down at her and grabbed her foot, smelling it and smiling down at her baby girl. The baby laughed and peered up at Blair.
"You're going back to sleep," she told her, and the baby made senseless noises. Blair tied her pajama back up and slipped socks on her feet, then picked her up, beginning her burping routine.
Blair walked around, murmuring to her. When she made it back to her room, she stared at the letter, still unopened on her vanity. She paused and slowly walked to it. Melanie let out a loud burp, and Blair turned her, cleaning her face and sitting down before the vanity as she stared at the letter.
Her heart was murmuring to her. Telling her things. Telling her to listen to the words of her beloved because he would soon come to her and this was not a goodbye, but rather an 'I'll see you later'.
Melanie, her eyes now fixed on the letter before her as it stood starkly against the dark mahogany of the vanity, reached her little baby fingers towards it, her little mouth in a perfect O and her eyes wide. She babbled as her fingers touched it, still unable to pick things up. She patted it, palm flat, jumping on Blair's lap. She smacked her small hands on it until the letter bounced down to the floor, and there Blair continued staring at it.
She swallowed and finally leaned down, one hand holding the baby, the other hand reaching for the envelope.
She brought it before Melanie, who looked extremely happy at being offered the envelope, and she reached for it, but Blair kept it away. This infuriated the child and she scrunched her face up, miffing and pouting.
Blair slowly slid her index finger under the flap of the envelope and pried it open, Melanie watched this carefully, entranced at the possibility that the paper could convert into something else.
Her heart beat slowly but surely as she removed the paper inside of the envelope. She handed Melanie the plain envelope, and the baby happily grabbed it as best she could.
Blair unfolded her letter and tears came unbidden to her eyes once she recognized his handwriting. He had written this himself. She reminded herself that he needed her to be brave, to be strong and ignoring his letter was not the way to go. So she slowly found the first line.
"Dear Blair…" she whispered into the room and Melanie stopped what she was doing and leaned her head on Blair chest, rubbing her nose against Blair's robe. She was getting sleepy once more.
Blair placed her hand on the back of the baby's head and continued reading.
"I don't know if you'll even read this letter, or when we will even speak again, but I wanted to tell you I am fine and alive. I miss you everyday, and I want this to be all over so that I can find my way back to you. If you keep a candle lit for me, baby, I'll always find my way back to you. Love always, your husband, Charles Bass."
She was crying by the time she finished it and had unconsciously rocked the baby to sleep.
She looked around the room and quickly spotted a thick candle. She stood resolutely and placed the baby back in her cradle, making sure her warm blankie covered her completely and a new log was in the fireplace to keep the room warm. She walked back to the candle and, having lit it up with a stick from her own fireplace, she walked to window that faced the sea.
"By sun and candle-light," she whispered.
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The explosion had knocked the wind out of him and he was pretty sure the world had ended and he had been destroyed in it. He swallowed and slowly lifted his head. No. The world was still here. If he was dead and this was heaven or hell, he couldn't possibly be feeling the headache he had.
And the sound of shouting and gunshots outside reminded him of the reality around him.
The sturdy tent that they had placed him in was in shambles, things were burnt to a crisp, all the supplies once stored there were in disarray and the memories that he'd held a moment before came crashing back.
His eyes widened, and he tried to remember. Gunshot? Had he heard a gunshot?
Think, think.
No. Never a gunshot. Just an explosion from hell's pure fury.
"Nate?" He croaked into the dark room. His hands were still tied behind him, but he had fallen sideways. The wood pole that held him prisoner had snapped in half and his hair was covered with wood bits. He looked up and, using his legs to push himself off the floor, he aimed at the end of the pole to slide himself off and then find a way to cut his bindings. He grunted, panting and sweating in the semi-darkness as the war raged on around them.
Another explosion shook the air around them and he buried his face in the dirt, in case anything decided to fall on him. The explosion ended and there were more gunshots and screaming from the soldiers outside. He shook his face, bits of dirt falling off, and spit out the grains in his mouth. The he continued pushing and panting his way off of the wood pool.
That was when he heard it. A low, distinct groan. He stopped, though he was almost at the end.
"Nathaniel?" He echoed into the darkness. The groan came louder this time, and he cursed. "I'm coming! I'm coming!"
Chuck cried out, his fingers peeling and getting cut with the end of the open wood pole. He grimaced and finally pulled his body free from the pole. He wasn't sure what else was wrong with him; if he had dislocated something, or if something was broken. Because all he could think about in that moment was the groan in the darkness.
He tried to kneel first, his hands still bound behind him, and then slowly stood, shaking himself free from the dirt and grime.
"Nathaniel?" He panted and tried to walk around the darkness, tripping over a few fallen things.
More groans and slight cursing.
Then he saw legs. He let out a breath of relief and walked to them, but the rest of the body was buried under debris, a fallen tool case, and another fallen wood beam.
"Nathaniel!" He walked over the wood beam and saw Nate's face. His eyes were closed and his scar was even more prominent. His face look unhurt, but the distinct grimace on his lips told Chuck something else was wrong. He carefully kneeled before him.
"Nate – Nate wake up!" He said to him. Slowly Nate opened his clear blue eyes and stared at Chuck.
"Chuck?" He whispered. "I didn't really want to die… I never wanted to die."
Chuck let out a yell and cursed. "Where's your knife?" He demanded.
"I-in my boot," he whispered back, swallowing. "I-I c-can't breathe…"
"Hold on, I'm going to get this off you, just hold on," Chuck assured him and stood, loosing his balance once or twice and walking to Nate's leg. He saw the glimmering object. Turning around, he sat his ass by Nate's leg and, reaching with his tied hands, he grasped the base of the knife. After a few grunts and yells of frustration, he removed the knife from its place. As best as he could, he slowly sliced the robe, cutting himself once or twice. Nate's labored breathing kept him focused. He was finally free, so he scrambled up, his eyes wide as he took in the wood beam.
"I'm going to lift it, ok?" He reassured Nate.
"Slowly –" Nate grimaced, letting out a low hiss.
Chuck nodded and, straddling the large beam, he placed his hands on it and slowly, grunting while Nate yelled, he finally managed to lift it off and roll it to the side. He turned his head to look down at his friend and stopped in his tracks.
His knees gave out from under him as he stared at Nate.
The tool chest that had fallen on him had opened and a few tools were protruding from Nate's stomach. He was bleeding at an astronomical rate. Chuck took a breath because he could see tissue. He held back a gag and looked at Nate's face, which was smiling slightly.
"Not too pretty, eh?" Nate asked, his eyes still closed and his body immobile.
"W-we have to get you to a doctor," Chuck said, at a complete loss as to what to do.
"There is no one," Nate informed him. "I had to saw the leg off one of my men last week."
Chuck thought of the possibility of not being able to save his friend. All those miles, all those milestones, nights and hours spent looking for Nate, and now he might not be able to bring him back.
No. He was going to save him. He was. He'd been unable to save so many things, but this he was going to save. He was going to save him for his mother's sake, for his father's, for Lily's, for Vanessa – there was too much at stake.
"I-I'm going to get you out of here – you're going to be fine," Chuck nodded.
Nate slowly lifted his head and looked down at his chest and stomach. He let out a laugh, which made more blood boil out of him.
"Quite an optimist you've become, Bass," he slurred.
Chuck quickly shed his coat and pressed it around the wounds. "I need to take them out."
There was four tools in his stomach and one right under his ribs. But Nate shook his head.
"Don't waste your time on me – get the fuck out of here –"
"I'm not leaving you –"
"You can't save me –"
"I damn well can. I'm taking you home, and you're going to see your daughter grow up even if it kills me!" Chuck shouted and, without warning, pulled two of the metal tools out, making Nate arch off the floor and scream. He shouted obscenities, but Chuck was not deterred as he grabbed the last two in his stomach and yanked them out. Like a band aid.
"N-no more, no more, please!" Nate was crying now.
Chuck's hands were full of blood – so much blood, he didn't know what to do with it. He wiped the sweat off his brow, leaving a trailing line of Nate's blood over his forehead as he panted and looked down.
"It's a girl?" Nate whispered, and Chuck slowly met his eyes.
"Yes…" Chuck nodded, then yanked out the remaining piece, and Nate lost consciousness. Chuck looked down at him and scavenged the tent until he found an old first aid kid. He took all the gauze out of it and, with trembling hands, he wrapped all of Nate's torso, ignoring how the blood seeped right through the cloth. But at least he was wrapped. Then slowly lifted him up and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.
While grunting and grimacing Chuck walked out of the tent with his oldest friend over his shoulder. The tent was a quarter of what it had once been. Many men lay dead on the floor, more wounded, and the ones left were too busy firing at an unseen target.
He saw Olan, who looked like he was leading the troops (a thought that scared Chuck more than anything), shouting orders while his hefty arms supported a bazooka.
"Stand clear!" He yelled and fired. Chuck limped to him and, once the man noticed it was him, he looked up, startled.
"He needs a doctor – are you going to give me a hard time and let him die here, or are you going to shut your mouth and help me?" He demanded, and the man's eyes slowly filled with admiration.
"You willing to die for him?" He asked Chuck, and Chuck slowly nodded, no hesitation to his decision.
Olan slowly smiled. "He wouldn't want you to, but I would. So you've got yourself a fucking deal, soldier."
Chuck swallowed and nodded. Olan called for the few remaining soldiers to pull back, and then the small group followed his orders and began to retreat to the place were Chuck had first been discovered. Nate's weight on him was killing him, but he continued. He noticed that blood was now running down his arms because Nate hadn't stopped bleeding.
"He ain't going to make it," Olan told him when Chuck set Nate down at the edge of the old camp. Chuck's jaw twitched.
"If he doesn't make it, then neither are you," Chuck ground out and met his eyes coldly. Olan found it admirable and smirked at him, nodding.
"We move out!"
The rest of the men followed his instructions, and Chuck once more picked up the unconscious Nate, with the help of another soldier, until he was resting once more on his shoulder. They traveled like this for a few hours: stopping, consulting, and continuing. The harsh sun beat on them for a while until it began to set. They made a small camp for the night, and one of the soldiers inspected Nate's wound as Chuck greedily ate from a cold and disgusting soup they had provided, his eyes locked on Nate's form.
"A couple of broken ribs, I'd say… Maybe a broken collarbone… And definitely internal bleeding…" he let out a grim breath and shook his head. "He might as well been run over by a train."
Chuck swallowed and nodded, accepting the man's help as they changed Nate's bandages… But the bleeding hadn't stopped. The blood was coming darker and darker. The night settled around them and Chuck sunk down exhausted next to Nate, sleep immediately taking over his senses.
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In his dreams, he saw many things, but the one thing that struck him and stayed with him was a promise he and Nate had made each other once. They were no more than eight when they decided to be blood brothers. Anne had found them in Nate's room about to cut each other with a steak knife and had shrieked at the top of her lungs. The Captain had explained to them that they didn't need to cut themselves to be blood brothers.
So the next day, using a safety pin, they poked each other's fingers and, with the little trickle of blood that came out, they pressed together and swore to be brothers from that moment forth. Chuck had forgotten about that, and it was strange that his dream had remembered for him.
When he woke, some of the soldiers were stirring and he looked over to find Nate awake and staring ahead. He was completely still, but Chuck saw his chest rising and falling.
"Nathaniel?" He sat up and looked down at him. Nate met his eyes and blinked.
"I can't feel my legs…" Nate said softly, and Chuck swallowed, a thick syrupy feeling forming in his throat. Something he'd never been able to identify.
"Y-you're going to be ok, Nate – I promise –" he attempted, and Nate slowly shook his head.
"My daughter… What's her name?" Nate asked, blinking and studying Chuck.
Chuck looked down and then back at Nate. "Melanie."
Nate smiled faintly. "Is she beautiful?"
The horrible lump in Chuck's throat tightened and he nodded.
"Who's taking care of her?" Nate asked, his eyes slightly closed, as if sleep were taking over him.
"Blair is…" Chuck said carefully. Nate's eyes widened slightly and he studied Chuck, then looked at Chuck's hand, where he distinctly saw a wedding ring. He smiled.
"You married her?" He asked carefully, and Chuck nodded, his eyes still on Nate. "… Good… You always did love her."
Chuck swallowed and looked away, running his hand over his long hair.
"I need to ask you a favor…" Nate whispered.
"Anything," Chuck nodded.
"I need you to take care of her… Raise her like she was your own…"
"Shut up – stop saying this babbling bullshit," Chuck demanded and, in the background, the explosions began once more. The soldiers around them began to scurry.
"We've been spotted!"
"On the move, soldiers!"
Chuck's wide eyes studied the scenery and, sure enough, in the distance were men on horses and in tanks. He looked down at Nathaniel, who looked paler than ever, and forced him to sit up, ignoring his gasps and yells. He threw him over his shoulder and began to follow the soldiers as Nate cried out over and over.
The grunts and wails that Nate made were permanently imbedded in his eardrum, but Chuck continued ahead, even though his legs were killing him. His arms were tired and shaky, but Nate's life depended on him, and he was not giving up.
"You're holding us back!" One of the soldiers shouted at Chuck, but Chuck sent him a glare and continued with Nate over his back. They finally reached a rocky area and had to begin climbing, Nate was jostled from side to side as Chuck attempted to carry him over rock and stone.
"Stop!" Nate cried, his hands digging into Chuck's back. "Stop! No more! God, please no more!"
Chuck finally relented and placed him up against a rock, breathing in and out, exhausted himself. His body begging him for a break. They breathed in and out, staring at one another.
"No more…" Nate whispered. "No more, please… I can't…" He began coughing, and Chuck saw blood in his mouth. He closed his eyes and cursed.
"We're almost there –"
"No one can save me Chuck, not even you." Nate closed his eyes and spat out blood.
"I can – yes, I can –"
"Cut the bandages – please cut them. It's too much, too much pain, I can't breathe –"
"No, you'll bleed out," Chuck shook his head and ignored the soldiers that cried out to him as the men approached them. Olan climbed down the rock and glared at Chuck.
"Go on!" Nate spat to him. "That's an order – you go on, you hear me?"
Olan stared at his superior and then back at Chuck.
"No, you look at me – I can still think. I'm not dead, but you will not die saving me, you hear? You go on, you live and get him out of here." Nate raised a nearly limp hand and mentioned to Chuck.
"Yes, sir," Olan nodded, his jaw tense.
"No – the fuck you are!" Chuck protested. "I'm not leaving you behind. You don't leave a man behind!"
"Take him!" Nate ordered. "Leave me a gun."
Olan quickly unstrapped his revolver and made to hand it over, but Chuck intervened.
"Stop it!" Chuck demanded. "I stay. I have the blue card, they can't harm me."
Olan stared at Chuck and then looked at Nate and, without warning, turned and climbed back up the mountain.
"No!" Nate shouted but then stopped, wheezing as he coughed once more. "Cut them!"
Chuck shook his head.
"Cut them! I'm begging you – I can't breathe…" Nate pleaded.
Chuck, swallowing the lump in his throat, nodded and reached out to cut the heavy binds they had been placed over Nate's torso. Nate let out a yell of relief, but Chuck blanched when blood spilled forth and distinct body parts that should be inside were not.
"Oh fuck…" he cried out, and Nate looked oblivious, happy and sated with his guts hanging out.
"Nathaniel, c'mon – stay with me. Stay awake." Chuck tapped Nate's face, and he groaned.
"Chuck, please go – just go… I've got minutes left…" Nate panted, and Chuck shook his head.
"I can't," he ground out. "We made a promise to each other a long time ago… And I don't intend to leave you behind."
Nate's eyes twinkled slightly and he coughed, more blood coming to his mouth.
"Blood brothers…" Nate nodded. "Chuck, I don't hate you… I never really hated you…"
The horrible lump was threatening to take over his soul, but Chuck tried his very best to keep it at bay.
"… I just wish… we could've talked before this… and then maybe…" his head bobbled slightly. "… Last night I dreamt about Vanessa… She said she was waiting for me…"
"She'll have to keep waiting –"
"I've done things and seen things I will never recover from… Things that go much deeper than what the skin can show… You know?" Nate swallowed. "A long time ago I realized I was never going to return to her because the man she loved was gone… I told god that I would stay and fight if he would keep her safe… and now he's forfeited his deal so I'll forfeit mine." He licked his lips and Chuck saw his eyes change, like he was becoming deeper than Nate ever had.
"I found that the very hardest thing to do in this life… is to forgive yourself."
The lump he'd held at bay erupted from him as Nate, unknowingly, repeated Blair's words to him from long ago.
"Promise me you wont blame yourself… Promise me…"
"Nathaniel…" Chuck's voice broke, and he leaned forward, taking Nate's shoulders in his hands.
"Chuck…" Nate's breath was ragged and coming short and fast. "… Don't ever let my girl know the man I became… Please, please…"
"Nate…" Chuck's eyes became wet just as Nate let out one last breath.
"Nate…" Chuck gulped. "No…. no, no, no…." Chuck pulled Nate's body up and hugged it. "No!!!"
He screamed out and picked him up from the ground, holding him close.
"No!" Chuck cried. "Goddamit!"
Nate's body was limp in his arms, and he cursed. He pulled Nate's head back and yelled. His eyes were wide and blue and vacant.
In his mind, all the moments they had shared as children and as teenagers unhappy with life flitted through his eyes, and he saw that they could've shared much more. Much more, but now it was gone. Nate was gone. His blood brother, his best friend, the one person who had always accepted him. He felt his soul break, and he couldn't and wouldn't stop it.
So he cried over Nate's body, cried for all the times he held himself back, for those months he had never cried for his father, for his mother, for his life… He just cried.
When his body was shaking and exhausted, he wiped his tears and looked ahead. The men were now climbing up the mountain. The men were coming to get them. To get him.
"Mother fucke –"
He pressed his lips to Nate's forehead and closed his eyes. He picked up the body in his arms and resolutely turned to the armed men heading up the rock mountain. Let them mess with him today, just let them try. He wished they would try.
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To be continued
