Title: When The Devil Can't Save Himself
Word Count: n/a yet
Rating: PG-13, maybe R at one point
Warnings/Spoilers: All of season 1, aired season 2 and spoilers for 2.12 through 2.14
Summary: Bart Bass. Shot. Dead. Murdered. Chuck Bass was broken, and he was pretty sure he couldn't be fixed. That wouldn't stop her from trying.
Official Disclaimer: All Gossip Girl plots and characters belong to Cecily von Ziegeser, Josh Schwartz and the CW. I do not own the company or the people. The characters in this story are not mine.
Author's Note: This chapter was way longer than I thought it was going to be. I thought about splitting it into two parts, but then it would be too short, and...ugh. This took me forever to write, because I wanted it to be as good as the first two parts. A lot of real drama is going on in this chapter, while last chapter was a buildup. A warning: the language does get a bit strong near the middle. I apologize :)
NOTE: In this story, Dan does write the exposé on Bart. It does not effect the rest of the family, but it causes a lot of anger to be directed at Bart, which is why he is shot by someone (no, you won't ever find out who it was. I don't even know myself). Bart and Chuck end up bonding anyway and their scene at the end of 2.10 does happen.
Within a half an hour, Blair and Serena had managed to get a half-conscious Chuck back to the penthouse, into a suit and tie and out the door into his limo. They flew down the streets of New York City, the lights of cars flashing against the glass buildings and the foggy sky as they made their way to the cemetery.
Blair turned slightly in her seat to look at Chuck, who was slumped next to her, his drooping head barely touching her shoulder. He was a faded pale white color and his skin was cold, his closed eyes letting his soft brown lashes touch his alabaster cheeks. Normally when Chuck slept, he looked peaceful and at ease. Now he twitched fitfully against Blair's side, flopping back and forth on the leather seats.
Serena stared at Chuck, whose antics were now turned in her direction. "Is he okay?"
Blair looped an arm around Chuck's broad shoulders, tugging him back over to her. She let his head lean on her, his soft hair brushing her cheek, and gently rubbed his shoulder with her free hand. The gesture seemed to calm him long enough to stop him from kicking at Serena's legs and start to breathe slow, calm breaths.
She leaned back against the smooth black leather and watched the boy next to her. His chest rose and fell under his black dress shirt and his face looked so tired and broken and innocent. It was surprising how a tragedy could turn one of Manhattan's most infamous into a vulnerable little boy again.
Chuck was awoken by someone shaking him for the second time that day. He opened his eyes, groggy and caked with sleep, and blinked until the world was in focus. He almost smiled peacefully at the feeling of Blair gently stroking his hair, until he remembered where he was.
The sleek black limo was parked at the entrance to the cemetery where the second part of the ceremony would be held. Stocky gray gravestones stood like guards along the winding pathway that led up and down steep, hilly ground and the grass was dry and greenish-brown, covered in leaves that cracked against their feet as he, Blair and Serena made their way up to join the rest of the funeral party.
As soon as Chuck saw the congregation of people, all dressed in various shades of black, gray and deep blue, his eyes began to water. He wasn't sure if it was from the fierce wind that whipped against their faces or the salty tears that threatened to spill over.
Blair tightened her grip on his black-jacket-clothed arm, as if thinking he would turn and run. But instead Chuck's tired eyes flitted over the crowd with incredible precision, praying he wouldn't be able to single out the one person responsible for this mess. Chuck immediately spotted Serena's new boy toy Aaron Rose, standing next to Vanessa and…
Dan Humphrey.
God damn fucking Dan Humphrey was here. How could he even think of coming here to pretend he cared about them and about their family, when all he'd really done was tear them apart? How could he even think of mourning amongst these people who actually cared? How could he even stand there, pretending that fucking article he fucking wrote wasn't responsible for the death of the only parent Chuck had ever known?
Fuck it. He wished Dan Humphrey was the one killed instead.
Trying to control his rage and the surge of other emotions that bubbled to the surface, Chuck stared back at the crowd that surrounded Bart's grave and Lily, his newly widowed wife. Looking at the inscription, reading his name, made Chuck's stomach churn and his hungover head pound. His legs gave out and he sank to the ground, falling onto the path with a thud. Chuck hardly felt his back and elbows hit the ground, he was too concentrated on the searing pain that overtook his whole body. So this was what grief felt like.
Chuck opened his eyes, reluctant to let in a speck of light, and saw Blair kneeling next to him, the knees of her black tights scratching against the ground. Eric van der Woodsen was next to her, along with Serena and Nate. Nate, who hadn't spoken to him for weeks, had apparently decided to give him sympathy along with the rest of them. He didn't want sympathy, damn it. He just wanted his father back.
Nate reached out a hand to help Chuck, but he waved it off, leaning his head back against the pavement. The pounding pain that drilled against his skull worsened as he did so and he struggled to sit up, attempting to glare coldly at the people that had crowded, but he felt too empty inside to do much of anything besides stare.
Blair reached down her hand this time, covered in a long, soft black glove. Chuck obliged, letting her wrap her tiny, warm hand around his larger, freezing one and pull him to his feet.
"Come with me, Chuck." Blair linked her arm through his and he felt himself relax just at being near her. He forced himself to stiffen and angle his body away. It was wrong to feel this right near someone. He couldn't handle the complicated feelings that flew through him whenever Blair was near. Not now and probably not ever.
She was worried. She couldn't deny it. The sick look on his face, the clench in his jaw, his tense and hesitant touches…they just weren't like him.
"How are you doing?" Blair asked, speed walking to keep time with Chuck's desperate pace.
"How do you think I'm doing?" Chuck was basically unresponsive. He wouldn't meet her eyes, didn't react to the way her hand was curled around his arm.
"I don't know, Chuck." Blair sighed, knowing she couldn't be frustrated with him but wishing he would open up to her, just this once. "You've got to give me something here."
"Maybe I don't want to talk, all right?" Chuck's words were cold and rough and he began to walk faster, all but shoving her away from him. He wrenched his arm out of her grip and turned on his heels, his dress shoes scuffing against the stone walkway as he strode back to the group.
Blair gaped at the spot where Chuck had stood, even long after he left, suddenly realizing to some extent how completely broken he actually was.
He'd never let her see it before, so she'd never really known. Right as they'd walked out of the Snowflake Ball, they were holding hands, intent on heading into the limo and making up for lost time. Instead, he'd gotten the call from Lily ("Chuck, your father…accident…hospital…gone") and she had watched his face sink from a smirk to utterly devastated. There had been no tears, no indication of how hurt he was other than the look in his eyes and the smack of the limo door slamming inches from her face as he dove inside, speeding to what was left of his family.
She wished she could fix him. She wanted to fix him. But there is a kind of pain that can't be fixed only with a gentle word or a calming touch, and this was it.
Chuck's head spun and his eyes blinked quickly from side to side, their inspection moving from one edge of the crowd to the other. He saw Eric and his boyfriend, looking appropriately somber in what seemed to be matching black coats, Nate speaking with Serena, their blond hair less shiny and illuminant against the cloudy sky, and…Blair, standing at the edge of a hill, her polished black flats perched on the grass, watching him.
He knew it had been wrong to run from her, especially when she was the only thing keeping him sane. But he didn't want to be treated like some crazy mental patient that could break down at any second. He suddenly understood why Eric had felt like he needed to take risks when he'd gotten out of the Ostroff Center. People were so scared of him not being able to handle real life that he felt like he needed to prove that he could.
Chuck Bass would prove himself too. Chuck Bass would take risks. Chuck didn't need Blair Waldorf.
He spotted Dan out of the corner of his eye. He was paying condolences to Lily, talking animatedly and still managing to look innocent and regretful. Just from watching him, Chuck's entire being was filled with red-hot anger, running through his veins and pounding into his heart. Without thinking, he sent a glare that would make anyone's blood run cold in Humphrey's direction. He waited for Lily to be gone and as the area around Dan filled with his friends and stepfamily, Chuck made his move.
"What the fuck, Humphrey?" Chuck charged up to him, shoving his almost numb hands against Dan's shoulders. Dan skidded back, his dress shoes catching on the cracks between the stones on the pathway.
"Whoa, what the…" Dan stared at Chuck as if he was possessed. To hell with that! Maybe he was!
"You can not just show up here!" Chuck shoved him again and then got right up in his face. "You are the fucking cause of all of this, Humphrey! You're trash! Our family doesn't want you anywhere near us!"
"Hey." Dan put up a hand, pushing it into Chuck's chest. Chuck didn't move, just clenched his fists and seethed, continuing to glare in his direction. "Mrs., er, Bass seemed fine with having me here. She thanked me for coming."
Chuck hated Dan for how ridiculously logical he was being. Couldn't he just shove Chuck back, make this into a fight? He didn't want to think about anything, just how good it would feel to have his fist connect with Dan Humphrey's self-righteous, Brooklyn-dwelling, sharp-cheekboned, fake-innocent face. In fact, why just think about it?
Chuck raised his fist with every intention of knocking Dan onto his ass, but before he got the chance, Serena jumped it, tugging Dan away from Chuck's line of fire.
"What the hell?" Chuck's voice seemed to echo. A moment ago, everything had been loud, the scurrying of footsteps, his and Dan's shouts. Now it seemed empty.
"Don't touch him, Chuck." Serena looked at Chuck apprehensively, looking partly scared of his rage and partly defensive.
"Oh, apparently I haven't gotten the bulletin. You and Brooklyn are back on?" Chuck sneered, his thoughts twisted. "Get out of my way." He shook Dan free from Serena's grasp and, without any warning, slammed him square in the jaw. His head whipped around and his body thumped onto the ground. There was a collective gasp and Chuck's hand stung, knuckles bruising and cold.
Serena was advancing on him now and Chuck ducked out of the way, turning with a crazy impulse and running up the hill. The grass and colorful fall leaves crunched under his shoes as he ran, refusing to think about what had just happened, how enormously angry he was at everyone, everyone in the world and how jumbled his thoughts were, so jumbled that he couldn't feel anything.
Instead he focused on the wind that was sweeping his hair crazily and chilling his body and now the sound of two people running behind him.
"Chuck!" Blair dashed after him as best as she could, Nate close behind. She was really, honestly wondering if Chuck had lost his mind. She'd never seen him act like this before. Normally, he was suave, under control. He was poised and articulate. Never, ever this bundle of reckless emotion.
They caught up to Chuck and each grabbed one of his arms, but he struggled away, panting heavily. His skin had a greenish tint and he looked like he was about to be sick, but instead he turned towards them.
"I don't need your sympathy," he spat, turning and beginning to run again, down a hill and out of sight.
Nate and Blair turned to look at each other, worry in their eyes, because apparently a grieving Chuck Bass was more dangerous to himself than they'd thought.
She met him outside his building about an hour later, after speaking with Lily (it would have been rude not to) and directing her driver to the van der Bass penthouse.
He was standing by his limo, still wearing the same pinstriped pants, black shirt, gray tie, black coat. His hair was messy and hanging in his tired eyes. He was violently tossing bags into the trunk of the limo as the driver stood by, watching with a concerned air.
Blair stood and watched him for a few minutes, noticing how, though he threw the bags with force, the rest of his body seemed exhausted and lethargic. His mouth was set in a thin line and his shoulders were slumped like he had nothing to live for.
She suddenly got what was going on. The bags, the limo, the…wait. Chuck stared down at something in his hand: a small, white piece of paper. Was that a plane ticket?
Chuck's hand locked around the door handle, pulling it open. He raised a foot to step inside, and Blair couldn't wait any longer.
"Chuck! Don't go!" She ran up to him for the second time that day, tears coming to her eyes at the thought of him sitting on a plane all alone, heading to some exotic location where he would sit and drink in his suite all day and go out and drink all night. He needed to stay here, where people loved him. He needed to understand that people really would use those three words, eight letters and direct them towards him. He needed them even more now than ever.
Chuck turned slowly towards her, the coldness in his eyes frightening her. "Why? It's not like I have anyone here anymore."
The words stung Blair and she opened her mouth to reply, but he silenced her with the hard look in his normally playful dark eyes. "I don't have anyone here anymore," he repeated, sounding like a broken record.
"You have me, Chuck." Blair could hardly resist tugging him to her and pressing her head into his chest. She reached for his hand, barely touching his ice cold fingertips before he pulled away.
"Not anymore." Chuck squared his jaw and looked straight into her wet eyes. "I don't want you near me, Blair. I need to be alone."
"But…" Blair reached out for him again, praying he would oblige. But he pushed her hand away, turning towards the limo door.
"Stay away from me." Chuck slid into the limo and shut the door forcefully. It sped away from the curb, pulling out into the mix of lights and bustle of sounds that was New York. He was heading God-knows-where to do God-know-what with God-knows-who, and the only thing she was worried about was him.
To be continued.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading. I hope I'm living up to expectations on this story. *crosses fingers* And thanks to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter. That includes unefeeallumee, nicolexox123, princetongirl, Princess Persephone, fizliz23, suspensegirl, TheCutie, MamaFu and xcrazyangelx1800. Please keep on reading and reviewing. Tell me especially what you like/don't like about my writing. I appreciate it. Thanks for your support, guys. It means a lot. :)