Title: Time Will Tell

Author: RightSide

Disclaimer and Summary: See Chapter 1

A/N: First, THANK YOU for your reviews! You guys are amazing! Secondly, this chapter is set hours after the last, just to clear up any confusion in the beginning. Hope you like! XOXO.

Chapter 4-

Out on the terrace, Blair sipped absentmindedly at the glass of champaign in her hand. A miniature wall stood before her acting as a barrier, but how it was meant to protect her from harm, she did not know. It was a deadly fall, that much was true, but why would someone place something so unremarkable as a wall there to deter random moments of stupidity? As if testing her boundaries, she gingerly placed a foot on a large ladder she found leaning against the side of the wall to the far right of the door and hopped onto the ledge.

Carefully lying down on her back, her left foot dangling precariously off the edge, she gazed up at the stars. So beautiful. Her thoughts swirled in a mess of alcohol induced philosophy that had her craving some place where the lights of the city were dimmer. For the first time in her life, Blair regretted being where the others were and wished for nothing more than some isolated place where she could lie and stare and wonder. Or maybe not completely isolated. Dean could be there.

Glaring at the florescent light across the street, she rolled her eyes. If she really wanted to see the stars, she would need to get up higher. Glancing back at the ladder, she smirked. Sitting up and- with a surprising feat of balance- standing on the top of the wall, she stepped back onto the ladder with grace. Swallowing the last of her drink, she placed it on the ledge before continuing her journey upward. There was some sort of slamming sound beneath her, perhaps on ground level, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

The ladder itself was easy to climb, but once on the actual roof she took care to remove her shoes so she could keep steady. Scoffing at the heels, she felt as if they mocked her. They stood for everything she was currently against. Her bond to this world, to the status wearing such expensive, uncomfortable things created. Letting out a small yelp of liberation, she held them over the edge and let them fall. Making her way to a safer area, a random hiccup set her off balance just enough to make her have to catch herself on her hands and knees. Laughing, and feeling more than a little ridiculous, she sighed and rolled over to get a clear view of the vast picture above her. Shrugging off the wrap she had tied about her shoulders, she bundled it up to use as a headrest. Wiggling until she was completely comfortable, she smiled.

And there, on a rooftop, Blair Waldorf lied in a priceless, one-of-a-kind dress. Her eyes were sparkling, her arm lifted up to trace the random shapes she found hidden in the sky. And when Chuck Bass showed up, ready to stop her from doing some imbecilic thing like jumping, he was caught by complete surprise. A pain spread through his body as he studied her, a strangely innocent expression on her face.

When she caught him staring, he thought she would yell and scream. Instead she just turned back to what she was doing before, hand coming out to pat the spot beside her in a friendly gesture. Curious, he took her offer and laid down beside her.

"Chuck." she stated simply in a sort of greeting.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked, trying to analyze the look on her face as she turned towards him.

"Are you happy?" the question came from no where, yet her voice was unbelievably calm. It scared him. A few weeks ago he would think she was toying with him, but lately everyone had noticed that Blair was not who she used to be. After the kidnapping she didn't speak to anyone beside that Dean character, and when she had to make conversation with someone else she kept it simple and impersonal. Not that he cared what she did, or what she went through. It just bothered him that it was such a mystery. The only information anyone could pick up was that she was taken by a knife happy man who was killed by Dean. No descriptions, nothing definite. Just gossip.

"I don't think I've ever been," she thought aloud when he did not answer, "I hate this person that I am, and I always thought that it was the only choice I had for so long. Do you think a person can change, I mean really change? After everything we've done to each other, to people we've never met, do we even deserve to be happy?"

"Where's this coming from? Your new friend?" he spat, hating the idea of how close she had gotten to the man no one knew. How dare he judge her! She was a Waldorf, what did he expect? For her to be humble? Of course she wouldn't be. She would fight. She would want as much control as she could, and she would not regret a single step she took getting there.

"He's a part of it," she admitted, diverting her eyes, "You're a part of it, too. And Nate. And Serena and everyone else."

"How?" his tone softened as he attempted to seem understanding. It was difficult; he wasn't used to acting like he cared.

"What you said to me the last time we talked. When I came to you in the-"

"Blair, you can't think-" she held a finger to his lips.

"It's done. What you said to me then. That I wasn't worth it. That there was nothing special about me," Chuck had to ignore the rising bile in his throat as she continued, "You were right, Chuck. I'm not worth it. Any of it. Someone almost died to save me, and I can't help but think what a waste that would have been."

"Stop it, Blair. Stop talking like this. This isn't you." he could no longer hide his worry. Running a hand through his hair, he waited. Her response never came.

Mentally cursing both himself and her, he became frustrated. What had she come up to the roof for anyway? At first he had thought it was suicide. When he came outside onto the balcony and saw her just as she disappeared onto the roof, he was certain that she had a death wish. She was trashed. Everyone had witnessed her slight breakdown after her knight in shining armor left her on the dance floor. What had he whispered to her? How was it that a man she had known for merely days could drive her to something so uncharacteristic.

A single tear formed in the corner of her eye. Chuck watched as it slid with purpose down the side of her cheek, eventually falling into her hair and out of existence. The trail was still glistening in the eerie light that the moon set bouncing about them, and he couldn't think of a single instance of her crying in the entirety of his time with her.

"What really happened, Blair?" he was about to let his hand trace over one of the scars. But his hand never reached her skin. She shrunk back from him, the fear in her eyes obvious.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, almost as if she had just realized what she'd done, "He looked like you."

Eyes wide, Chuck was stunned into confusion, "I thought you never saw who it was. You were blindfolded or-"

"Honestly, Chuck," she nearly sounded like her old self, "people like us aren't allowed the luxury of telling the truth."

"But the police. I thought you told them you couldn't see."

"I did say that. I couldn't tell them what really happened. They wouldn't understand. And Dean…" she sighed, "They would have blamed him somehow. I couldn't do that. Not after what he did for me."

There was such reverence in her voice. Chuck couldn't help the envy racing through him. Even when she spoke his name she said it gently, as if he was something precious. As if she was some little girl trapped in a dream hoping that while the prince was not yet hers, in time there was no doubt love would eventually come to them.

"So, what really happened?" he didn't want to pry. He knew he had no right. But someone had hurt her. He hadn't wanted to believe it at first when he heard the news. He thought it was a stunt, something utilized to get the attention of the upper east side. Pictures had been posted on Gossip Girl when she returned, bandages everywhere. It could have been a ploy. Gauze covering up unmarked skin.

Tonight everyone had been proved wrong, including him.

"I was asleep when I heard it," she began slowly, "When I finally woke up there was someone by my bed," turning to him, she grimaced, "It was you."

"You mean someone that looked like me." he clarified.

"No. I mean it was you. To the smallest detail. You started asking me questions. How I was. If I could forgive you. It was everything I wanted to hear at the time. It wasn't enough, though; I still wouldn't let you get close. So you stepped up and said you loved me. That was when I hugged you. Him. Whatever it was."

"I don't understand."

"Just pretend you believe me, okay?" she sounded desperate, "I don't know who he was, but he was you until I touched him. Then everything changed. He grabbed me. He was so fast," she paused, hand at her brow, "I couldn't fight him. Then I blacked out, and when I came to I was underground somewhere. He had me chained up. I screamed and I screamed. And then he came back, but I couldn't see him. It was so dark. He tore up most of my clothes and started cutting me. Only one at a time in long slices. Then he would lick up the blood. I can remember it. All of it. His tongue. The knife.

"He stopped midway through a cut and left. I knew he was going to come back. Either that or leave me there to die. But he never did. Dean came and picked the locks. I fainted from the blood loss, and he drove me to a friend of his who was a doctor. He stitched me up, and then Dean took me back to a hotel. This is what Dean does. He tracks people, bad people. Like a vigilante. He's only here because he thinks I might still be in danger." There was a silence that held a mixture of awkwardness, tension, and pity. He hated all of them. He hated what she had just told him. Of all the scenarios he had imagined, that was never one of them. To think of Blair in the dark screaming as a man slit her open piece by piece… he shivered involuntarily.

"I'm sorr-"

"Don't," she said harshly, "I don't want your sympathy." Instead of acting upset or even annoyed, Chuck merely leaned back on his hands and sighed. After countless moments staring into nothingness, Blair scooted closer to him, hand moving to cover his. He made sure she couldn't see him smile.

"The only time I can remember being happy," he said, making sure his attention was focused solely on some unrecognizable cluster of stars, "is with you. Only with you."

Untangling her fingers from his, she shook her head, "I can't believe that."

"It's true. I've never been one for lying to girls to make them feel better. You know that better than anyone." He didn't try to reclaim her hand. Her reaction left him feeling unbelievably cold. It wasn't 'I don't believe that'. She had said can't. Almost like she would not allow herself to feel for him.

"I need to leave. I have to go back." to Dean. He knew she had omitted the words, but they still hung in the air as if actually given breath. Standing first, he helped her up and held the ladder as she climbed down. Once he, himself, reached the terrace he found that she had already gone. Running back to the main room, he watched as she slipped out the front door.

Laughing at himself, he couldn't believe what a fool he was. Had he thought her opening up was some sort of breakthrough for their relationship? That she would come home with him in his limo and repeat their first night together? It was a ridiculous notion. As if she would ever like him that way again. She had a savior, someone who had proven his worth. How could he compete?

"Hey there," a random red head stood in front of him, dress low cut enough to leave very little to the imagination, "The party's getting dull. Want to get out of here?" Chuck blinked several times, awed at his hesitance. That couldn't be good. Out of sheer reckless defiance he forced himself to speak.

"Meet me outside in ten."

A/N: No worries, the next chapter will be VERY Dean filled. It killed me not to have him show up on the roof and sweep Blair off her feet. Please review!