Wow, I have to say I'm surprised and pleased at the response I've been getting in reviews and favorites. Thank you!

Musical inspiration: "Passenger Seat" by Death Cab for Cutie, "Runaway" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs, "Biko" by Bloc Party, "Look After You" by the Fray, "Another Heart Calls" by All American Rejects.

Chuck laid in his bed, thoughts a swirl of Bart's hard voice, memories of grief, moments of weakness, business, and guilt. He should be meeting Blair. Nothing mattered though, not when the spectre of Bart Bass lingered disapprovingly.

Fingers linked and held over his face, Chuck found that not even the comforts of scotch could lessen the throbbing headache and his father's the sound of the slight creak of the doors, he chanced a look. Seeing Blair--the somber expression on her face-- stirred the mingling guilt in his chest, quickly avoiding her deep brown eyes.

"Thought you were meeting me for lunch."

The defeat evident in her inflection filled him with a sense of shame. Part of him willed her to be angry with him--to lash out at his failure-- because being the cause of her disappointment was more than he could bear. But the cool mask stayed on:

"I had too much to drink."

"Oh"

Chuck felt her shift, knowing she would keep pestering him about the date.

"Well, we'll just order room service,"

A residual instinct from earlier times clawed its way to the surface. A part of him her never expected to return to bubbled forth, and he couldn't help but cut Blair's suggestion off coldly.

"Look, I really... don't need you to take care of me."

Bart's words replayed in his head, like some deranged lullaby.

"If you're soft, you're soft--and well, let's face it. You're soft."

Chuck clenched his eyes at the memory, Bart's constant unimpressed demeanor. But Blair persisted in her soft, delicate tones;

"I know... how hard it was for you, to let your guard let me in,"

Unwittingly, Bart's mocking words came back to him, taking precedent in his mind--overwhelming him.

"You opened your heart to Blair, and it made you weak. You cannot be one person at work and another one at home."

Strength. Strength was key. Without strength, there was nothing. He'd often asked himself in the past: what would Bart do? In this situation, he knew exactly what.

"But you've changed."

Strength. Strength was key. Strength was essential, for business. Without it, all he had done was lost. As for his personal happiness... he couldn't live a double life. Looking towards the frosted glass at Bart's distorted figure, the image of his father seemed to give a curt nod, finally in approval of Chuck's decision. There was one thing left to do.

Limbs like lead, Chuck raised himself up and straightened himself out. For what he was about to do, he needed her disapproval. As desperately as he needed Bart's pride.

"I'm buying that building."

"Chuck,"

The sternness in her voice had been exactly been what he had been searching, but it was a hollow victory that made the scotch sitting in him turn.

"Don't tell me what to do."

Push, Bass. That's all you do.

"I'm not,"

Emotional ties are weakness. Chuck Bass was not soft.

"Just... talk to me,"

Blair was pleading, something Chuck had always aimed to appease. He had always inherently strove to provide for her all that she needed, never wanting to see her . Strength was key.

"Blair,"

Before he could finish, Bart had turned to the corner to witness the drama unfolding.

"Get to the point. You've become weak."

Chuck glanced away from her, and from Bart's critical eye. He had to do what he had to do. It was business.

"I need you to get out of here. Now."

Blair slowly raised her hand to reach for him, and Chuck's hand raised to meet her, habitually. He caught himself, gently grasping her hand and setting it down, away from him. Not able to resist, Chuck looked up to finally meet her eyes. Instead of bitterness and resignation, he only saw a patient, tender love. At that moment his mask slipped.

Strength. Strength. Remember, strength. He felt his heart harden, stone-cold just like dear ol' Dad.

"Now."

Finally, it seemed Chuck had broken through her efforts as she turned to leave. Pieces of his chest cracking apart, he moved himself to lean on the door frame. Strength was not gained. If anything, it felt like strength lost. Bart moved to lean against the opposite door frame and looked on amiably.

"Maybe there's hope for you yet."

The long yearned for paternal approval finally granted was bittersweet and hollow.

"Chuck?"

Blair's voice cut through the silence from across the flat. Strength. Strength. He had been sure the fight had been over, and now he was unsure if he had the strength to keep pushing.

"All I wanted to do was just--just be there? I just want you to know... that I'm here,"

He could only meet her with silence, unable to let out more to hurt her. The tears that could be heard through her voice triggered his intrinsic sense of taking her in his arms and fixing her.

"And I love you."

Chuck opened his eyes suddenly, resisting the words that wanted to come from his mouth. He would not-- could not-- return the sentiment. After all his rejections, how could she still say that? But he shouldn't have been surprised--he'd done much worse in the past. He studiously avoided her gaze and instead fixed himself on Bart's figure across from him. Like before, he made a farce of her words.

"Aw, I love you too."

Chuck could do nothing but scowl at his father. But he made a valid point: he needed to cut away his weakness. His weakness would always come in the form of one Blair Waldorf. Eyes on Bart, Chuck reluctantly answered back to Blair.

"I don't need you. Just go. And don't bother coming back."

Happy? Chuck arched a finely shaped brow back at Bart, who only seemed to nod as if to encourage Chuck to continue. Understanding, Chuck's face softened, unsure if he could take the next step.

"Cut your losses and bail out, before you completely lose your dignity. She's a weakness--a distraction. Do it, already."

Bart turned back to his watch nonchalantly, then fixing Chuck with an expectant look.

"Well?"

Chuck's voice lost him, breath lost in his throat. His voice, which he had intended to be strong and cold, came out as barely a whisper.

"I can't do this anymore."

He could feel the stone-cold heart in his chest crumble into a fine powder, because he could honestly say that there were no pieces left-- not when Blair's own heart could be heard breaking from across the room. He clenched his fists so as to prevent himself from taking back his words and holding her until they forgot the incident completely. Blair's sputtering sob broke his will, his desire for strength, his need for Bart's approval, and what was left of his heart.

"You don't mean that.."

Blair's voice, at last, seemed weak and broken. She turned to exit through the elevator as Chuck finally turned to look at her leave. As the elevator dinged with her exit, he wanted nothing more to follow her to the ends of the earth for her forgiveness-- something at this point was surely undeserved.

"Well. That's not exactly it could have been delivered with a little more dignity, but it'll do."

Bart's cold stare offered no relief. Chuck retreated to his room for a much needed scotch. Dignity was overrated anyway.

I tried not to be too repetitive, but at the same time incorporating the last chapter. It's my first time with this perspective, he can be a bit darker and less over-analytical so I hope I did a decent job.

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