Part 9

From Nate, to whatever Chuck had been, to Marcus, to that undefined thing that existed with Chuck, back to Nate, to that hell and heaven that was her and Chuck together, then to Carter—

Barely had time to breathe. Barely had time to know herself.

Barely anything.

Barely herself.

Everything she was, everything had been his.

One by one, she unclasped the diamond bracelets from her wrist. She felt rather than saw Carter. Still, she continued the quiet, measured movement, placing the pieces of jewelry on the dark surface to sparkle in the light.

"Take them."

But she bared her wrist, with its ugly mar visible on her skin. She answered him, "I'm leaving this relationship with only as much as I brought with me."

She had been nothing—less than that—when she came to Carter.

"Nothing," she said.

"You brought me everything that matters," he told her.

"I'm done lying." Blair shook her head. "I won't pretend I was more than—" She cut herself off, took a deep breath. She and Carter both knew—in all the world, there was no one else who could understand the story better than the two of them. "You knew me at my worst."

She passed by him on the way out the door, and she knew before he did that he would place his hands on her waist, plead with her. "Stay," he begged. "You've made me better than I've ever been."

"I know," she said carefully. "But you'll be the best with someone who can love you back."

His hands fell away from her waist. "If I told you about Santorini before we came back, would you have stayed with me?"

Slowly, she nodded her head, confirming for both of them what they suspected, but would never say aloud. "But I would have hated myself even more every day."

"I love you, Blair."

So did Chuck. So did Nate, in his own way. "Love doesn't solve everything." She raised herself up on the tips of her toes, placed a kiss on his cheek. Then, with only a small bag in hand, because however it ended she knew Carter would send her whatever else of hers she left, she walked down the corridor towards the stairs. Mr and Mrs Baizen stood outside their bedroom door, watching her leave. Mrs Baizen stepped forward to talk to her, but Blair saw the moment the older woman saw her son, because she stepped away.

She made her way down the stairs, heard Carter call her name. She looked up, saw him at the top of the steps.

"You loved me too," he told her.

Not once had she told him, and it was what he had chosen to believe. If this was the goodbye he wanted—

He perfectly deserved it.

"Alright, Carter," she said at last.

And then, she was out in the world, and it was cold in New York. The streets were lit with artificial lights, and she found her way down the street, ignoring the cabs and the one or two people who snapped her picture walking away. The small bag, heavy for lugging around the city, grew lighter in her grip the more she walked.

Blair Waldorf found herself standing outside the Palace. There were hundreds of other hotels in the city, but now, there would be no place like home. The sound of her heels on the marble floor was familiar, comforting. She walked up to the reception desk and licked her lips. Blair fished for her credit card, then placed it on a table.

"I need a room."

"I'd be happy to book one for you, Miss Waldorf." The girl gave her a cool smile, then checked her computer. "How many—"

"It's just for me. One," she cut in.

The girl nodded. Blair noticed the moment the girl's eyebrows rose. She slid the credit card back to Blair. "We already have a room on hold for you."

Chuck.

Blair took the card and placed it back in her wallet. The girl handed her a key card. "It's 2815."

Hers and Chuck's. It was the room they shared one summer, the home they had built together. "Look," Blair explained tiredly, "I'm not interested in sharing a room."

"Miss Waldorf, the room hasn't been occupied for a year."

And so it was that Blair slid the card into the same slot, stepped into the same suite, walked on the same padded carpet she had once walked before. She thanked the bell boy who dropped the bag at her doorstep. The door swung closed, and she found herself standing in the living area. Her feet led her to the kitchen, and she tentatively reached a hand towards the one mug that still sat upended in the sink.

It had cost two measly dollars, but it had the ironed on picture of her and Chuck with their lips locked in a kiss. One of their afternoons slumming it, and he had complained about the cheap destinations, then demanded a mug when they passed by the stall.

If she had it last year, she would have shattered it into a million pieces.

"This is insane. I won't do it," he said stubbornly.

His face was red, and Blair almost expected that he would stomp his foot in protest. "Suck it up, Chuck," she replied with a giggle. "I gave you your stupid mug."

Chuck handled the mug closer, as if the item could hear her insult. It had taken them a long time to take a picture that he thought deserved to be immortalized on the side of cheap ceramic. She had smiled, frowned, made faces at the camera, until Chuck finally decided to himself to pull her unexpectedly into a kiss.

And that had been plastered on the mug.

"So now you want me to do porn?"

Blair arched her eyebrow at her boyfriend. "Stop pretending to be modest," she told him. "And I know this isn't your definition of porn. I've seen the DVDs inside the brown paper bags, Bass."

Chuck smirked, but the arrogant expression faded when they reached the booth.

"I want you on my nightshirt."

Chuck scowled. "You don't wear nightshirts, Waldorf."

"I would if you were on it." Half-naked, she told him.

"You're doing this to screw with me."

Blair gave him a big grin. "Do this and you can do anything you want tonight. While I'm wearing my new shirt of course."

Blair shook away the memories but walked to the bedroom and opened the closet, found the oversized shirt that she never did get a chance to wear. She shook it ad revealed the ridiculous pose she had Chuck do, ironed on to the shirt in only his dress pants.

The picture on the wall taunted her.

One year, and the world could turn upside down. One year, and everything else could change.

Except this.

"Was the waiting intolerable?"

"But you know by now I'd wait forever for you, Waldorf."

Blair lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. He had been here, she knew. Even without anyone telling her, she could tell the same way she could tell the moment he was gone in the Baizen's party. All around her she could smell him still, like he had lain on the same sheets so much more recently than one year ago.

From Carter's bed to his.

She shot up from the bed. Her skin was on fire, afire. She breathed quickly, but she could never get enough air. Blair picked up the phone and called reception.

"Get me a car to take me to the airport," she said.

"I'll schedule one for you, Miss Waldorf. What time do you want to leave?"

She closed her eyes, felt the tracks of her tears cooling on her cheeks. "Book me the first flight out of here, and then you tell me what time I'm leaving," she answered.

"Miss Waldorf, we can do that for you." The Palace always had the best service out of all the hotels she had stayed in. Carter certainly made sure they stayed in places better than the ones he stayed in before she joined him in his travels. "What's the destination?"

"Wherever the first international flight out is going," she answered thickly.

She hung up the phone. Her eyes rose to the picture frame that they had hung together. On their bed, in their home, with memories of that one summer around her—

"I hate you," she whispered.

"I think you've already forgiven me."

He had been certain, assured, confident in what they had.

"Because you told me you'd stand by me through the darkest, and the worst. I know you forgave me before I even said I'm sorry."

Chuck strode into the hotel restaurant and spotted Carter taking a glass from the bar. Chuck straightened involuntarily, needing to be taller, needing to appear more powerful, needing to be richer and better. When the other man turned around, and Chuck spotted the red-rimmed eyes and the dry lips, his stance relaxed.

Carter saw him and nodded towards the corner booth. Chuck gestured to the waiter to bring his usual order, so they would not need to be disrupted earlier than necessary.

"I was about to throw my phone to the trash. It had to be broken," Chuck drawled, "because I highly doubted Carter Baizen would text me saying he needs my help."

Carter threw back his drink, then motioned for another one. "Blair left me," he admitted.

Just hours ago, before they parted, Chuck had been sure that Blair would stay with the other man. She had told him so herself. No giving up, she had told him. She would give Carter the chance that Chuck did not give her. Now this—

"You're more of a fool than I thought you were if you honestly think I would help you get Blair back."

Carter rested his head back on the cushioned backrest of the booth. He locked his jaw. Chuck saw him reach inside his pocket, then place the strands of white gold and diamond bracelets on the table between them. He pushed them towards Chuck.

"She isn't with me," he told Carter. For the small relief he saw in Carter's eyes, Chuck wondered why he had bothered to deny it. He should have told the asshole that Blair was sleeping in his bed now, exhausted from the hours he had spent making her feel welcome. "And if she were, I can get her better jewelry, more than anything you've gotten her."

"Give them to her anyway. She's naked without them."

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "I don't need you to tell me about Blair Waldorf. For the record, she loves necklaces more than bracelets. I know her better than I know myself. You fucking stole her from under my nose when I asked for your help tracking her down." Chuck snarled at the other man. "I was killing myself trying to figure out where she was. And then when I got desperate enough to ask for your help, you stabbed me in the back."

Carter looked at the glittering jewelry that contrasted with the dark tabletop. He idly touched the hard rocks. "You don't know her anymore. She's different now. But I know her."

From Carter to Chuck, it was the harshest insult that could ever be said.

"What the hell do you want?" Chuck cut in. "Your message said you need my help. Spill it so I can shoot it down and laugh in your face."

Carter grasped his own shoulder, squeezed it. "If you find her first, you figure out why she's been hiding her wrists with dozens of these." Chuck's eyes fell again to the damned bracelets. "And then watch out. Don't leave her alone. Not even for a second. I learned my lesson the hard way."

"I know you love me."

"How do you know I haven't stopped?"

He pressed against her and he looked down at her, so close to him, that he only needed to whisper for her to hear. "Because if you love me half—no, a quarter—as much as I love you, that would be impossible."

"Good evening, Mr Bass."

Chuck nodded towards the girl. "Candice, call the limo for me."

"Of course, sir. Should I cancel Miss Waldorf's car service then?"

Chuck stopped in his tracks. His head swiveled and he looked at the girl. "I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?"

The girl nodded, smiled. Trained for politeness, untiring of it like the new employee that she was. "Will you be taking Miss Waldorf in the limo, sir? It's time for her car service to take her to the airport."

He strode to the girl's desk. "Give me the room key."

Holding the plastic in his hand, Chuck raced to the elevator. He ran towards the room they once shared, and rapped on the door. When there was no answer, he slid the key into the slot. The door opened. Chuck saw the mug that had been placed down inches from where he had last seen it, saw the closet door slightly ajar. His eyes flew to the wall.

There was an empty, discolored square patch of wall where their photo used to be.

tbc