A/N: So to play into the new episodes and the final I decided to dedicate the next couple of chapters to Dan and Blair in a way to bring back flashbacks to the wedding (alternate in certain ways in this story) and work the events and the situation that way. It would just make more sense to keep the Dan situation and the Blair one separate. Thanks for all the reviews guys, very inspiring. And I especially appreciate them since this is my favorite story to write at the moment.

XXX

They all sat together. A champagne toast. Serenaded by a flute player, a piano man, and later a resurrection of an ancient ode. Lily had called them 'the modern Brady Bunch' and Bart, 'an exemplar for all of the Upper East Side'. In Chuck's mind they were neither or a parody of both.

He smiled at the thought and turned to the younger of the blonds in his proximity. There were no smiles there. Serena on her own was the shade in their bunch. She was a gray cloud in her yellow dress, seated in a gloomy corner all by her own lonesome.

At the moment Chuck had no desire to join her. He did however have a ringing pain at the back of his head, the ring born of the same frequency as what he had last heard from her. Chuck grinned nonetheless and toasted his new sister with his sparkling glass.

And she toasted him back, though her eyes remained glued to the ground.

She smiled little through the hour they spent as an official family. She smiled even less when each was off, grateful for a long night's sleep that would follow the wedding proceedings that had marked the day. For Serena however it would be a long grueling night of grief, followed by another few of identical nature.

And Chuck let her. He let her get engulfed by her self-made chasm and he let her remain there, all alone in the darkness.

--Flashback--

Chuck had seen her face, the dull color of her eyes. She knew what was to come, but she didn't want to believe it.

He sat there with them all, the family and Dan Humphrey, and he feigned ignorance to what the enchanting blond sat in gloom for. Instead he poked teasingly at his food and engaged Eric and their parents in conversation. He tried not to watch as she left. He made sure that his face was blank of all recognition, and he ignored Dan completely.



The night went on, and there they were on the dance floor. Serena and Dan. He had broken up with her, Chuck could tell. Because despite the dead look of her eyes she looked a little more easy, a little less lost. He caught her eye across the room and Serena attempted at something with her face. It merely resulted in a quivered lip and so she looked off again.

Chuck watched the couples, a bitter taste at the back of his throat.

Here was the blond, nearing six feet with her heels and overtaken already by the spirit of the petit brunette, her best friend. He grimaced at the irony and returned to his seat.

--End of Flashback--

All week Chuck let her be. It was their silent consent. She was to get through this on her own. Say goodbye finally to the fantasy that was Dan Humphrey. She had to break the porcelain doll she had crafted of herself. He could do nothing but wait. He resented having to watch.

It was a Thursday when she appeared at the breakfast parlor, for the first time without the sight of bloodshot eyes. She was a far distance from her usual appearance as the love goddess, but she looked beautiful nevertheless. Even with the chalk white skin and the dead eyes.

Chuck smirked to himself and handed her a glass or juice. His fingers brushed past hers and his gaze wash over her. She didn't say a word or look at him at all. But she did smile into her drink, allowing the sweet liquid tickled her lip.

It wasn't until Saturday night when she revisited Chuck's room and his bed.

She stood clad in a teal slip and nothing else. No make-up. Just her silky white flesh and her once red lips, trembling. Even her magnificent main of blond fell in limp waves all around her, like a cheap shawl, failing to cover her delicate shoulders and bone of her collar.

She crawled onto the bed, shuffling all the Egyptian cotton sheets aside and pulled her long legs over to curl up in his lap.

She felt small and cold against him, but never more desirable. And despite her flawed appearance, she never looked more beautiful. She was a dead rose, brittle and vague.

She looked up at him. Her lips trembled still. She smelt of tears and sweat. Her eyes were steely, and yet something flickered past them as he held her gaze.

Chuck wasn't sure what to think of this, what to think of her. He just sat there, locked eyes with her, as his fingers drew circles on the cold skin of her legs. He wasn't sure what to 

think of his heart beats, in succession, pounding against his chest now. He wasn't sure what to think of his breath and every word caught entrapped in the cavity of his throat.

When her lips met his it was only for a fraction of a second. Not long enough to kiss her back. Just long enough to taste her. To take in that rare sweetness that lingered somewhere lolled between the wisps of her breath.

He stared at her, all in her faded glory. He drew away his touch. She blinked once at his hesitance to touch and twice at the fog engorged within his eyes.

There was something in that moment that had shaken him to his core. Something in her soft cold lipped kiss told him that he had sunk a little too deep. That they had gone a little too far.

His fingers found a lock of her hair, curling the limp wave around them. Her lips parted in anticipation and despite the ice overtaking his every vain, he leaned in for a kiss. His tongue snaked inside again and like all those times before they made love.

She wiggled and withered underneath him, her flesh still cool and short of blood.

He'd smile onto her lips and pound in harder. Pound so hard that she would lose her grip on the head board. So hard that they would find themselves a tangled mess on the cold ceramic of his floor.

She fell asleep on her front and he lay there immobile, his fingertips caressing down the curves of her perspired back. He watched her for a second too long, soaked up against her, absorbed too much of her.

It took him a few minutes to detangle and little longer to settle her in his bed. He then made way for his closet and a short shower later and he was gone.

He had had one last look, enjoyed her long curved form lay embroiled amongst his lined sheets; gathered like a picturesque of a mastered art-piece. He smiled quaintly at the sight, and disappeared with whispered regret.