'And in the crush of the dark, I'll be your light in the mist
I can see you burning with desire for a kiss.'
Chuck came into the kitchen to find Evelyn lazily pouring herself a martini. The party had long since dispersed into the darkness of the night, and she no doubt had someone waiting upstairs for her. She made no effort to glance up as he entered; he looked at her, silent, as he tossed down his jacket.
His voice was low. "What the hell was that?"
She rolled her eyes, taking in the drink. It was far more interesting than her son at the moment. "A test, Charles." She sounded bored.
His own eyes narrowed. "Well it didn't work."
And at that, she did lift a brow. There was indolent amusement under her disinterest. "On the contrary. It told me all I needed to know."
Chuck watched her in silence.
"She wore the dress because I wanted her to. She does exactly what she's told. And that," the woman murmured, "Is useful." Her dark eyes flickered to the boy, mocking. "You could learn to do the same." Those eyes slanted and her voice was sinuous. "Do I need to remind you what's at stake?"
Chuck glowered, cold with loathing. He grabbed a bottle of scotch and turned his back on her, heading for bed.
"A date," Evelyn called after him idly. "In public. They need to know you're...monogamous." The word curled from her lips in a sneer, a low throaty laugh.
He slammed the door. Hard.
Blair lay in her enormous bed and gazed up at the ceiling. It was dark, but Serena's muffled breathing drowned it out. Nearly two weeks had passed since she'd arrived, and it had taken Blair that long to realise she was actually having fun.
Being with Serena - being with Chuck or Carter or Nate - every hour of the day meant she hadn't weighed herself or gone for a run in two weeks. She couldn't believe how easy it was. And part of her knew it wasn't the real world - not the lounging by the pool or the afternoon cocktails - but it had been so long since she'd allowed herself to do any of those things.
And it was fun.
Not perfect, of course. Chuck was winding her up no end, and she was aware that her intense craving for his company wasn't exactly healthy. But of all her bad habits, it was the only one that felt so good. In between leisurely lunches and shopping with Serena, their games had become the focal point of her day.
They were both waiting for him to ask her out - on a date that she fully intended to refuse. The first few times, anyway. He'd leaned over her the other night, as they'd been sprawled in a hammock after Serena's ice cream sundaes.
"Waldorf."
His eyes had glowed so black in the night she couldn't help falling into them; and his thumb had grazed her lip, burning. Her breath had caught in her throat - not that she'd let him see it. He paused for a moment.
"You have chocolate," he'd traced her mouth as he said it, wicked gleam. "Here."
She'd smacked him and stalked off - upending him from the hammock on the way.
She'd got him back the following night when Serena had convinced her to play Pick Up. The rules were simple - the winner got the most numbers in one night. She might ordinarily have balked at the idea of playing with Serena (who would be stupid enough to even try competing with her?) - but, emboldened by one too many tequila shots and Chuck's eyes on her, she'd jumped into it.
A too drunk Serena had been carried home by Nate before the game was up - and Chuck had stayed, watching, as Blair picked up the number for her dinner date the next day. Sean or Simon, she wasn't sure - but he was Ivy League and taller than a certain Basstard.
Chuck had promptly showed him up at said dinner, sly comments and nudges that only Blair would understand, smirk in place as he tore the unfortunate guy to shreds.
Blair was still plotting her next move.
Evelyn Bass had disappeared as expected, bored within four days; and it was a relief, but Blair wasn't stupid enough to think that out of sight meant out of mind. Carter had relaxed a little too, leaving Chuck and Blair to get on with it. He was still watching, of course - but apparently he'd made the decision to trust Chuck. For now. And when Carter relaxed, Blair did too. It had been a while since both brother and sister had enjoyed themselves.
But the best part of all of it was that she'd had no nightmares. Perhaps it was all the late nights or drinking; maybe Serena's presence in the room or falling asleep on the terrace or cabana surrounded by the four of them. Either way, Blair was savouring it. Greedy and desperate. No more waking up alone, fighting back tears and cold sweat? She could live with that.
She wanted to cling onto it - all of it - and never let go.
"Vodka?"
Chuck held up the bottle with a roll of his eyes.
"Ice and mint for the girls?"
His grin was faint. "Of course."
"Rum?"
At that, he gave Carter a look. "What do you think?"
The other boy smirked back. They were headed down to the harbour, sunglasses and towels slung over their shoulders. Nate had got there first, since it was his family yacht - and the girls, Chuck could already see leaning off the side. Or at least he could see Blair, short white skirt and blue halter neck, ridiculously large hat and lips pursed. Her first task had been to inspect Nate's handiwork.
"Helloo," Serena called, long arms wrapped around the railings. She may as well not have bothered with her summer dress. Her teeth gleamed white in the sun. "Ready?"
Chuck's eyes slid to Blair's; a light wind was already whipping her curls around her face as his gaze travelled up her slim brown legs. She folded her arms, arching an eyebrow.
He flashed her a charming smile. "More than."
Nate had moored the yacht just as the sun rose to its peak, burning down on their skin in the sea breeze. Blair proceeded to jump up from the white leather seat, smoothing her skirt and hair. She'd been curled like a cat while they'd streaked through the waves, Chuck's arm thrown over the side of the boat next to her.
She'd pretended to ignore it, even as his fingers had brushed her arm.
"Drinks!" Serena was already reaching for the cooler.
Blair slid her arm through the blonde's, pulling her to back of the boat for prime sunning. "We'll have two mojitos," she flicked over her shoulder with a smirk at her brother. "Thanks." Carter rolled his eyes and pulled out the cocktail mixer.
She was just getting comfortable when a shadow fell over her. Of course. Chuck sighed and tossed his own towel down, taking care to stretch out between the two girls. Boundaries never had been his strong point. He leaned back on his elbows, one forearm against the curve of Blair's spine as he gazed at her.
"Having fun?"
"I was untill you came along."
Serena shook her head, unseen; and Blair fell back against her own elbows. He wasn't going to faze her - not for a second. And he sipped his rum straight, enjoying the sight of the sun playing over her bare shoulders, dark head tipped back. She closed her eyes, perfectly aware of his gaze, and proceeded to ignore him like only Blair Waldorf could.
Quite predictably, Serena was bored within an hour. She leaned back against Nate's bare chest, legs dangling above the glittering water.
"Time for a dip?"
She smiled up at her boyfriend; he grinned back, eyes as blue as the sky around them. Blair watched as they grabbed each other's hands and plunged in, laughing, just like that.
Serena shrieked, tossing her blonde hair in the waves, while Nate shook the droplets out of his eyes. Their smiles were wide and white and real and Blair felt a sudden pang of longing. She didn't know where it had come from.
Her eyes slid to Chuck without thinking - and she realised, to her surprise, that he was watching the same surveyed him in silence. His gaze turned to hers and his lip curved slightly. Not exactly happy, but real. And there was a look in his eyes that she understood without needing to ask.
"How about a deal?" His voice was a murmur. "One jump in exchange for one date." She stared; and she was aware he hadn't clarified. One jump from her, one date from him? Or one jump from him and one date from her?
He got to his feet abruptly, hand reaching down for her.
"Coming?"
She paused, eyes flickering between the blue of the ocean and the darkness of his eyes, shaded in the sun. And Carter behind her, that same sun hot on her neck.
Six years ago
The afternoon had been hot, and Blair had sat alone on the towel. Serena was busy being sociable as ever.
She'd been looking forward to a day of beach tanning with her best friend, but the blonde was surrounded by a group of guys. Guys that hung onto her every word, laughing with each toss of her golden hair, volleyball game forgotten.
Blair was far from an outcast - but that day was supposed to have been no boys. And what was the point in attempting to flirt when she was standing next to Serena? Serena, whose long body was already a rich gold to match her hair; who'd already filled out her bikini. The guys were several years older - but talking to Serena, that didn't seem to be an issue.
Blair had tried that summer. She really had. She'd been so determined to have fun; so determined it hurt. It had been seven months.
Hamptons was supposed to be all about friends, anyway. Not family - kids went to the beach, and parents sunned themselves in cabanas.
And she'd known she was only digging the knife deeper, but still the sharp and futile longing had overwhelmed her. She wouldn't care about any of this if she had Harold's hug as he told her she was the prettiest girl in the world. She wanted to show Eleanor her tan. Show her she could wear that white dress now.
She'd wanted to go home and see her father massaging her mother's feet on the terrace. She'd wanted Carter to slouch in late, Eleanor's raised eyebrows as she fussed over his dinner and Harold's indulgent smile. And she couldn't help the savage sting of tears as she sat by herself. She'd told herself she wasn't allowed to cry any more.
She didn't want to smile and stand stiffly next to her gorgeous best friend, knowing those gazes were passing straight over her.
She'd had enough. Enough of feeling sorry for herself - enough of pretending everything was fine every goddamn second of every day. Enough of trying. If I smile widely enough and work hard enough and act bitchy enough, then nothing's changed.
Everything had changed. Blair had been nearly twelve years old, and she was exhausted. She'd wanted to scream as Serena's laugh sailed over her. She loved her best friend, but sometimes she hated her. Sometimes she hated her so much it made her feel sick. She hated that other people loved her.
(She hated that Eleanor had loved her.)
She'd got up and tossed her unread book to the floor. It made a thump that no one heard. "I'm going for a swim."
Serena glanced up, and Blair had hated the wave of relief that passed over her because Serena had noticed. The guys followed her gaze and then skimmed right over when they realised who she was talking to. Just a little girl.
Blair was going to scream - or worse, cry - and she needed to get out of there.
The sun was hot and sticky in between her legs as she moved stiffly down to the edge. She walked in without hesitation, cold water seeping through her skin as the salt stung. She waded deeper and deeper till the water cooled her hot shoulders, dipped her burning face in and swam properly.
Harold had taught her how to swim.
She remembered lurching through the water, arms stretched as she strained to reach him; eyes screwed up tight till she was sure she had to be there - the pause as she lifted her head, the sound of his voice filling her ears once more - trying to stay afloat, chest heaving - and his eyes, crinkled brown as he held out his own arms. The safety when she finally reached them.
She sank under the waves then, sunlight and Serena's laugh silenced. She pushed down further - further from the shore, further from the surface - colder and darker and more alone.
She hadn't realised how far away she was. She hadn't realised how strong the current was - not until she wondered if she'd need air soon. And then she'd tried to push her way to the top again, a vague part of her confused at the struggle. And another part of her, distanced, wondering what would happen if she never made it to the surface again.
No more sunlight.
No more people.
No more noise and no more smiles.
It was only when she finally did surface that she realised her lungs were burning and her legs weak. And she didn't have long for that thought before another wave smashed into her, pulling her under again.
And it hurt.
She was suddenly kicking, straining for the shore - where was Serena? Where was the shore? And then the panic started as she realised if she couldn't see Serena, Serena couldn't see her. Serena probably wasn't even looking.
No shore.
There was no shore - and another wave crashed into her, and she had no control either.
There was nothing she could do except fight, and the sea listened to no one. Her feeble attempts to stay above the surface did nothing - and she couldn't threaten or bribe the sea - she couldn't scream her way out of this. She choked on water, head throbbing and vision cloudy, eyes streaming from the salt. The waves didn't wait for her to catch her breath, and panic bloomed, heavy and deadly, as she was pulled under again and again.
She didn't know if she passed out - she didn't know what up or down or sea or sky was any more - but there was suddenly a wrenching pain in her arms, searing as something tightened around her chest and dragged her. It wasn't the sea; it was deliberate and far more painful. She could've sworn there were nails pressed into her skin as her body went limp.
And then it was black.
She woke up with her lungs on fire, coughing out half the Atlantic - and Carter was crouched over her, jaw clenched - his face so white it was almost grey, blue eyes ragged with fear.
"Don't you ever do that to me again."
He told her next week that he'd filled out her application to Canterbury Accademy. And regardless of whether it was to that particular school - she was getting out of New York.
Now
She glanced back at Carter.
"Waldorf."
Chuck raised an eyebrow at her.
Carter was watching her - watching them - and he gave a little nod. No more than a jerk of his head, eyes on his sister.
She turned once more to the coolness of the water and closed her eyes even more briefly than Carter had. Chuck was at her side.
And then she jumped.
Chuck was aware of the waiter's eyes on Blair as he held out her chair; and it made him smirk. She was looking particularly gorgeous in a deep red dress, single flower tucked into straightened hair. Yes, he'd been smug when he'd walked into the restaurant with her on his arm.
No more smug than she'd been at the envious glances several older women had shot her.
The restaurant was naturally the most expensive, water-fronted with low candle light and mahogany detail. Chuck had chosen it for the atmosphere rather than the price, since candles were a must with Blair.
She smiled up at the waiter now, barely glancing at the menu before she ordered for the both of them. The man paused, throwing a glance at the boy for confirmation. (Who intimidated him more - sir or madamoiselle?)
Chuck didn't bother rerturning the look. "And she'll have the dauphinoise potatoes."
An in-built mechanism in Blair blanched at the idea of that much cream and carbs; "I will n-"
"Thanks."
The waiter scurried off.
Blair attempted a glare in Chuck's direction, but he was too busy scanning the wine list. And once it came, he gazed across at her as he raised his glass.
"To us."
Blair's mouth pursed, but she took a slow sip rather than contradicting him. His eyes gleamed in the light and the wine was perfect, of course. He watched her lips on the crystal as he drank for himself; his leg brushed hers, under the table.
They hadn't had an evening that was just the two of them for as long as Blair could remember. Which was strange, when you thought about it.
She cast a small smirk in his direction and he leaned back, effortlessly elegant in his chair. His gaze never left hers, and he made no attempt to conceal his eyes roving her face, golden in the candle light.
He was going to enjoy tonight.
Blair placed her martini glass on the bar. She gave her hair a little toss, and he watched it fall back against her neck with idle pleasure. He'd spent most of dinner notcing the glossy strands brush her collar bone and wishing they were tangled in his fingers instead.
"Excuse me."
Her hand slipped across his thigh as she slid down from the bar stool; he paused for a moment as her fingers brushed him, there - and her smile told him this was exactly the reaction she'd wanted.
"Guard my drink?"
Her voice tickled his ear. He held his hand out to let her go, barely able to repress his hungry grin. She sashayed off to the ladies room, his eyes fixed on her retreating figure with deep satisfaction.
Well, he mused. She played first date to perfection. His gaze flickered to her glass; he could just make out the press of her lips against its surface. He liked this game. He was just reliving the light in Blair's eyes and the swish of her dress against her narrow waist when some guy - clearly lacking a few brain cells - dropped down into her vaccated stool.
Chuck's gaze was withering as he took in his expensive suit and slicked back dirty blond hair. "This seat is taken." His lip curled in irritation.
The guy turned to look at him, and there was something about the expression on his face that bothered Chuck. But not half as much as the fact that he was in Blair's seat. Some people just had no clue. "Oh. I'm sorry."
He didn't look it.
"Move," Chuck sighed. "Now."
"You know, it's a free country. And this seat was empty."
At that, Chuck spared him a look of incredulity. "Are you mentally challenged?" His voice was softly tipping towards dangerous. "Get out of my girlfriend's seat."
The guy's face contorted for a moment. "She's not-"
"What's going on?"
Chuck rolled his eyes in relief as she reappeared. "Finally, Waldorf." He ignored the other guy now. "Would you care to tell this cretin where to go?"
Blair, however, was regarding said cretin between narrowed eyes. "Damien? What are you doing here?"
Chuck glanced up at the name. So this was Damien. He appraised him with a raised knew Blair's taste; clearly Damien didn't. He'd already got to his feet, smiling as he moved towards her. "Didn't you get my text? I tried calling. I'm spending the summer here."
Chuck uttered a snort of disbelief. "Is he for real?" His gaze skimmed over the man once more, dismissing him before he moved back to Blair. "I didn't think stalking was creepy till now."
Blair shot him a warning glance, but he'd seen the flicker of amusement in her eyes.
"I'm sorry." Damien's voice was cold. "And you are?"
But Chuck had already got to his own feet, tossing a note on the bar as his arm curled around the small of Blair's back. "Leaving."
Damien watched, spitting, as he led her out of the restaurant without a backwards glance.
The house was dark and quiet when they finally reached it. They'd walked the long way home, via the beach; shoulders brushing and his hand still nestled in the hollow of her back like it belonged there. He regarded her now in the dim light of the hall. "So." His smirk was engrained.
She arched an eyebrow back. "Is this the end of my date?" Her mouth was petulant, and he'd never wanted to kiss it more.
"A true gentleman would walk you to your room."
A sharp grin curved her lips. "What a shame you're not a true gentleman."
He'd already wrapped her fingers in his, palm grazing hers as he followed her up the stairs. She was aware of his eyes burning into her back the whole way up; and her spine tingled.
She turned to face him once they were outside of her door - she'd realised, abrupt, that the room was empty. "Serena's not back."
"No doubt up to good with Nate." He left little doubt of his desire to do the same with her; she opened her mouth to retort, but he suddenly leaned into her, hand sliding up the wall so that he'd trapped her against it.
He smirked down into her eyes, glowing brown. "One first date," he murmured into her lips. "Do I get a kiss now?"
She tilted her head up at him, and he could see her white throat and the curl of her eyelashes. Slowly, she leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed the corner of his mouth.
Her lips were butterfly soft and so close he nearly groaned.
He turned his head to kiss her properly; and, smiling even through her caught breath, she ducked her own head so that his lips grazed her brow instead. The gesture would have been coy from anyone else - but that smile informed him she knew exactly what she was doing.
"One kiss," she purred. "As requested."
His mouth twitched. And his eyes didn't leave hers as he dropped his mouth to her neck and pressed another kiss, lips lingering, to the base of her throat. He inhaled the scent of her perfume and the velvet of her skin, feeling the lightest of termors in her slender body.
And then she pushed against his chest. "Night night, Bass."
Her smile faded ever so slightly as she moved into the room.
(Dark. Alone.)
Chuck's voice sounded from right next to her, grazing her ear as she'd done his. "Want some company?"
He was in the perfect place for her elbow as she thrust it into his ribs; even in the darkness, she could feel his grimace of pain and pleasure. He was still smirking as he left. He took his time - and she was seized, suddenly, with the urge to ask him to come back. To stay.
(Don't leave me).
And then she was annoyed with herself for being so pathetic. So irrational. So what if Serena wasn't there? Blair Waldorf was perfectly capable of sleeping by herself. She had for the past eighteen years. She'd dealt with it for the past seven. She listened to the silence - absence of Chuck - for just one more second before she forced herself to get ready for bed.
Then she switched off the light, lips pressed together, and pulled the covers up to her chin. Her mind wondered back to Chuck's lips on her skin instead of the darkness; and her toes curled in the remenants of pleasure.
She was fine.
She wasn't fine three hours later.
She woke, sobbing, fighting with the covers. Thrashing in the bed for someone that wasn't there. No blonde - Serena wasn't back yet.
She was alone alone alone as she scrabbled out of the bed, hating herself for the humiliation as she fumbled for the light. Still her breathing was ragged; and she knew the shadows would be waiting for her the second she switched it off again. She got to her feet, fighting with the urge to run, and made it to the kitchen.
Her hands shook as she poured herself some water. Her heartbeat was slowly returning to normal, but she could feel the tears on her cheeks and she hated them.
And the glass slipped out of her hands, horrified, as she suddenly realised there was a pair of eyes in the darkness. Shards shattered at her feet, water pooling as Evelyn Bass emerged from the shadows.
She regarded the white girl in silence. "Are you all right, darling?" Her voice was slick and cool as ever.
Blair jerked to her knees, reaching for the tissues to clean up the mess; "Mrs. Bass." Her voice didn't sound like her own - still high with terror. A stupid little girl. She tried to bring it back down, sharpen it. Manners. "What are you doing back?" The woman had caught her. She knew. She could see the treacherous tear marks on her cheeks; see her scrabbling around like an animal.
And she watched her impassively, now, in the dark. She made no attempt to help with the glass or water. "I hear you and Charles had a date."
Blair straightened her spine. "Yes."
Evelyn smiled. "Careful with that, lovely. You don't want to hurt yourself." And she swept out as Blair's stomach sank, slowly, with cold fear.