'Who wants to sleep in a city than never wakes up

Blinded by nostalgia?'

Nate slumped into the breakfast room the next morning looking very much worse for wear. He reached blearily for the coffee as he sat down, noting Serena's grimace as she downed her own cup. In contrast to her best friend's dressing gown and messy blonde hair, Blair was pert and immaculate in a neat red dress and flawless dark waves. She smirked a little at her friends as she slid a strawberry into her mouth.

"Sleep well?"

Nate managed a yawn in response.

"Well, he was snoring enough," Chuck drawled. He took his own seat at the table and moved to straighten his crimson tie. He too was already impeccably dressed, suited and crisp-eyed. He was closing a deal with Bart that afternoon, and he didn't intend on being even a step behind.

Blair quite deliberately ignored him. He ignored her back.

But even they couldn't resist exchanging the briefest eye-roll as Serena groaned and dropped her head in her hands. "I'm never drinking again." (They yanked their eyes away from each other afterwards, pretending it hadn't happened.)

"You should add karaoke to that list," Blair advised, pushing over her phone. There was a video from Gossip Girl. The four of them winced as recorded off-key singing filled the room.

"Make it stop," Nate moaned.

"With pleasure," came Chuck's mutter.

Blair was just finishing the last of her tea, ready to head to class, when one of the maids appeared from the bedroom she'd been cleaning. "Sorry to interrupt," she glanced round the four of them - their usual maid was off for the week - "But I was just wondering...uh, what do you want me to do with the food?"

Serena looked confused. "What food?"

"All the boxes under the bed," the maid explained. "Just in that room there? I mean, should I leave them, or -"

They followed to where she'd pointed. She was looking at Blair's room. Blair had gone very still. What?

"I just wanted to vacuum."

Nate appeared completely bemused as Serena glanced at her best friend. "What food?" she asked again.

"I have no idea what she's talking about," Blair snapped back, getting to her feet. "There's no food in my room."

It was the maid's turn to look confused now; Serena told her softly to go. She followed her best friend into the bedroom, praying that this was all some kind of misunderstanding. There was a box peeping out from under the bed. It had clearly been disturbed by the maid. A box, Serena saw with sickening certainty, filled with pastries, chocolates, macaroons...And under the bed, hidden from view, more boxes.

Blair felt sick just looking at them. "These aren't mine." She stared at them, uncomprehending. Where the hell had these even come from? "The maid must've-"

She stopped when she saw the expression on Serena's face.

"S, you can't seriously think those are mine? I have no idea where they're from!"

Serena sensed the edge in her voice and closed the bedroom door, trying to calm her down. Blair was painfully aware of the fact that the boys were still out there – Chuck was still out there – as she turned on her best friend.

"They're not mine. I've never seen them before."

"Blair," Serena murmured. Her voice was soothing but Blair had already seen the trouble in those blue eyes. "It's ok-"

"No," Blair hissed. "It's not! Those aren't mine. Someone put them there."

Serena was silent for a moment. "Who put them there, B?" she asked at last, very quietly. Asking her to explain.

"That maid." Blair's voice had turned vicious as she went to grab the door. She was going to get to the woman and demand to know -

"Why would a maid hide food under your bed?" Serena begged.

"I don't know! But it wasn't me."

Serena took her best friend's arms, stopping her. "Blair. You can tell me anything, you know that. Anything."

Blair grit her teeth together. "They're not mine."

This was absurd. How could Serena not believe her? The sight of all that food repulsed her and it hadn't been her. Was that seriously what Serena thought? That she was stocking away piles of food and binging, stuffing it all when no one was looking? Even the thought of that made her feel sick. The shame. Shame, and it wasn't even hers.

"B-"

Blair stared at Serena. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I want to," the blonde pleaded again. "I just..." Her gaze slid back to the food, helpless, and Blair felt bile rise in her throat. She shoved Serena off.

"I told you it wasn't me. I don't know how they got there, and if you don't believe me then that's your problem." Her voice wavered dangerously. Serena went to grab her again, but Blair yanked away. She suddenly couldn't bear to be in the same room as her – to see the look in her eyes, the assumption she'd already jumped to. She was going to find that maid and find out what the hell was going on. (And it hurt, even more than Carter yesterday, because it was Serena and she knew more about this than anyone, and if she didn't believe her-) "I'm going to class."

Nate and Chuck were still in other room; she just caught a flash of Nate's concerned, bewildered face before she threw herself into the elevator. She couldn't look at Chuck. She was too terrified of what she might see on his face. She couldn't.

Serena came back out of the room a moment later. Nate glanced at her. She looked drawn even underneath her hangover.

"Is everything ok?" he asked warily as she slumped down next to him. His hand covered hers, instinctive, but he knew that some things were between the girls and the girls alone. Things that he and Chuck didn't talk about.

"I don't know," Serena mumbled. She ran a hand through her hair in agitation. Then she stood, abruptly. "I need to call Carter." She seemed to almost be justifying it to herself. (She didn't know what else to do.)

Nate shot Chuck a worried look. Call Carter? But he knew better than to question it. He trusted that Serena knew what she was doing. Chuck regarded her for a moment; his eyes narrowed, imperceptible. "Does she want you to?" he drawled. "Because if not," he stated, "She's going to hate you."

"Yeah, Chuck." Serena tore her gaze away. "But I love her." She moved away from the table and went to retrieve her cell.

Blair had thrown herself into school and work all day in the attempt to keep her mind off Serena. Off the image of the food in those boxes. She worked so hard that she ended up finishing at W an hour earlier than expected; and Epperly told her that after the great work she'd done at the Matilde Designs show, she was free to go.

That had put the spring back in her step. Enough, she decided. She was going to go home and tell Serena flat out that the boxes weren't hers. She hadn't been able to track the maid down yet - but she would. And then Serena would realise that she'd been wrong. That Blair wasn't weak. Serena had to see; Serena knew her. All this time Blair had spent hiding from her best friend - she had to stop. (She tried to force Chuck's words out of her head, but she couldn't. I know exactly who you are. Do does Serena, and so does Nate. You really think trying to cut us out is going to make us any less aware? You really think we could ever not know you?)

And she had been cutting them out. But it had taken seeing the boxes today to make her realise. She wasn't that person any more. Seeing them had made her ashamed because of who she used to be - but there was no reason for shame, she realised. Not now. She was better than that now. And Serena was going to see that.

She expected the penthouse to be empty by the time she returned. But, to her surprise, she heard voices as she stepped out of the elevator. Something prickled at the back of her neck. Perhaps that was what made her pause before she went to greet Serena. Something was wrong. She could feel it. And then - then she recognised Carter's voice.

What the hell was he doing here?

She stepped closer to the closed doors, silent now. She dimly remembered another time she'd come creeping into a penthouse to hear her brother's voice. And the voice of a certain other person that, thankfully, wasn't here now. Because just like that time - they were talking about her. She heard her name and she went very still.

"...Shouldn't be back for while." That was Serena's murmur. "I just...don't you think this is all a bit much?"

"No." Carter sounded tight. "I think it's necessary."

"You know she what she's like when she's cornered. Ambushing her-"

"Is the only way she'll listen. Enough, Serena."

Blair was rooted to the spot for a second. And all the bile rushed to her throat again. Serena had contacted Carter. Serena didn't believe her. Carter didn't believe her. They thought all that food was hers. They thought she was that disgusting. She felt sudden panic claw her insides. Ambushing her. They were going to ambush her. They were going to accuse her of something she hadn't done - and, worse still, it sounded like they'd already made up their minds.

She was nearly shaking as she spun on her heel - shame, fury, loathing and humiliation - and made straight for the elevator again. She jabbed the button for the door to close, grip impossibly tight on her bag as the compartment descended. Not fast enough. She had to get away. She had to get out.

Her heels echoed loudly in the foyer as she headed for the exit, trying to move as quickly as possible and keep her pace under control at the same time so that it didn't look like she was running, and her jaw was clenched so tightly that she almost didn't see him.

Almost.

"Waldorf."

He was coming in as she was going out - and he was blocking her exit. There was rain jewelled on his grey coat, his dark hair swept by the wind. One look at those golden eyes, and the panic nearly overwhelmed her. He couldn't see her like this. Did he know? Was he with them? (He couldn't be with them. He couldn't). Serena, Carter, Chuck -

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"Get out of my way." It was almost a hiss, desperate, as she tried to push past him.

"Blair-"

"I said move, Chuck!"

He moved. But just as she thought she'd got round him, his hand suddenly closed around her wrist. The heat of his fingers stunned her; she reacted like she'd been bitten, twisting violently.

"What are you-"

His voice was very low. "Where are you going?"

"What?" she snarled. "Did they send you down to the door to keep guard? Let go of me!"

His eyes moved over her, unflinching, and he opened his mouth - but there was the sound of the elevator behind them at that moment. Carter's voice. They must've heard her leave.

Blair jerked in Chuck's hold as her gaze shot to her brother. Her best friend. "Please, Chuck." Her brown eyes were wild, burning into his, and he swore he could feel the desperate thump of her heart so close to his. "Just let me go."

And then the grip on her wrist was gone and she was slipping into the nearest cab, yanking the door closed behind her as she told the driver to step on it.

Anywhere but here.

And she couldn't let herself wonder just why Chuck had let her go, and she couldn't let herself explore the lump of something in her throat that had formed because of it.

"The meeting's over, Chuck. You're too late."

Bart's face was cold as he regarded his son. Chuck hadn't been able to get away from his penthouse because Carter and Serena were both going so crazy; he'd actually had to talk Serena out of calling the police. Blair was nearly nineteen, for Christ's sake. Carter had been about ready to punch him. Carter, who never bothered with physical violence, had ended up with his hands fisted on Chuck's hundred-dollar shirt. Those blue eyes had burned with cold hatred.

Chuck had only intended on dropping back to pick up his plans. (Although he was aware that the longer he stayed in the penthouse with them, the further away Blair would get).

He'd eventually turned up at Bass Industries to find the conference room empty. Bart hadn't picked up when he called. Which was why he was now standing in his parents' apartment in front his father's desk. In front of the man's impassive gaze.

"I came to find out what I missed," Chuck answered, curtly.

"I don't know why you bothered." Bart returned to his paperwork. "You're off the account."

Chuck ground his teeth. He knew his father had just been waiting, all along, for an excuse to throw him off. He knew Bart had never trusted him. But that didn't make it burn any less now. "I made one mistake."

Bart didn't even look at him. "And the company can't afford it."

For a moment, Chuck stared at him in absolute loathing. Loathing was better than hurt. "Fine," he bit. He gave a snort. "You should be thanking me, really. At least you can pretend you have an excuse to get rid of me now." He'd already turned away.

Bart was silent - silent until his son reached the door. "Chuck." It jumped out, stiff. Chuck glanced back. He wondered for a split second if his father was actually going to say something - if -

Bart let out a short breath and his face went blank again. Chuck saw it. The moment was gone, if it had ever been there at all. "I'd also appreciate you not using the investigator I fund for little games with your friends."

More criticism, of course. Chuck just gave him a look disgust. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I found the reports," Bart replied shortly. "In your room."

Chuck's lip curled in disbelief. "What reports?"

He received an arched eyebrow back. Bart looked almost weary. "Blair Waldorf, Chuck."

Chuck just stared at him. Seriously, what was his father on? "You're saying you found reports of Blair Waldorf in my room...and you think I ordered them?" His lip was still twisted. "Why the hell would I need an investigator to tell me about Blair?"

Bart's eyes narrowed; he watched his son for a moment. And then his face turned cold, heavy. It hadn't been Chuck. Chuck's room was the perfect place to hide anything - he obviously had no intention of returning there, and it was the last place Bart would usually go. He glanced at the boy and saw that he'd realised the same thing.

The elevator chimed.

"Charles." Evelyn came to a stop, smiling narrowly as her eyes fell on her son, flickering to her husband. "Well." It was a satisfied murmur. "This is a surprise."

She wasn't prepared for the icy hatred in her son's eyes - the sudden black rage as he looked at her. "You had her investigated."

Evelyn simply raised a brow. "You'll have to be a little more specific, darling." There was a note of danger there.

Chuck paid it no heed. "You found out about the eating disorder." He was almost feral as that gaze slanted. "And you paid that maid, didn't you?"

His mother rolled her eyes. Chuck was aready heading for the exit.

"Where are you going, Charles?" she enquired.

"To fix this." His hiss echoed as he slammed the door behind him, and then he was gone.

Bart's eyes moved to his wife. His face was expressionless. "What was that?" Why that, of all things?

She met his cold gaze with ease, and her black eyes gleamed. "The girl has a problem, Bartholomew. I was just getting her the attention she needed. You can't ignore these things, can you?" The words were from years ago and she threw them right back in his face. "I just hope they help her. That's all the people who care want to do, isn't it? Help. Maybe if she's lucky they'll throw her in the Ostroff Centre too."

Bart didn't react. "Did you really think an eating disorder would push her back to Chuck?"

She just laughed. No, she'd decided that Blair Waldorf needed breaking and that had seemed like the perfect way to do it. Convince enough people that someone's weak and the person themselves will start believing it too. "I can't speak for Blair. But I happen to know that Chuck is just like his father - any excuse to interfere, and he'll take it." Her smirk curled as she regarded her husband. "He's diving right back into her life as we speak." She laughed again, rich. "What's wrong, Bartholomew? Do I make you sick?"

Bart evenly ignored her. "I have work to do."

Not once. Not a single reaction. "And I have a lawyer to fuck," Evelyn sighed. "Don't let me keep you." She stalked out.

Bart was silent as he picked up his paperwork.

Blair stared at the text. She'd been ignoring her phone, which had rung non-stop since she'd got in the taxi. But she hadn't been able to stop herself from reading the text from him -

It was Evelyn, I have proof. Come home. C.

Her heart hammered. For a moment the Evelyn part barely even registered because; he didn't think she'd done it. Chuck. How had he -

Come home.

Except she didn't want to go back to Serena and Carter.

She didn't want to admit it - she fought to push it aside, to deny it, but it was rising with the lump in her throat. How had he known? Why had he done this for her?

She wanted to know why. She wanted to go back to him.

She was in such a hurry to get to the Bass penthouse, heart still thudding, that it took her a second to realise that Chuck wasn't in. She realised too late that he must've gone straight to his own apartment. Straight to Carter and Serena.

"Blair?"

She paused as she saw that Bart had emerged from his study and was now appraising her.

"Mr. Bass." She cleared her throat. "I was just looking for Chuck."

"Last I saw he was looking for you." Bart's tone was dry.

"Oh. Right." Now she looked like a fool. Running all over the city like a madwoman. Why the hell hadn't she just called him? Bart still had an eyebrow raised, and she cast around for a topic before she could make her hasty retreat. "So how was the meeting today?" Lame. "I know Chuck spent a long time prepping." Great, now she sounded like his stalker too.

"He never showed." Bart was brusque, clearly set on getting back to his own work anyway.

"What?" Blair frowned. "I - that's impossible." There was no way Chuck would have missed that meeting - she'd seen all the work he'd put into it.

"Clearly," Bart responded, "He had more pressing matters to attend to."

"He wouldn't have missed it unless he had a very good reason," Blair shot back. Then she remembered who she was talking to and hastily managed a sweeter tone. "Or unless it wasn't his fault."

Bart glanced at her for a second. His blue eyes were cool. "A very good reason."

"Yes. So don't punish him for it." Her eyes slanted before it occurred to her, again, that this was not how she should be speaking to Bart Bass. "Anyway, I should...go find him."

"Hm."

"Good night, Mr. Bass." She was quick to move away.

This time she was coming in as he was going out; and she froze in front of him, in the door of the foyer, staring at those dark amber eyes. His face was unreadable.

"I explained it to them. They've calmed down."

Her voice stuck in her throat. "Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me?" he asked, humourlessly. "My mother is the reason this even happened."

"And I'm not thanking her," she answered as her eyes narrowed, still gazing at him. "I'm thanking you." She swallowed. "How did you know?"

His mouth curled, almost painful. "She used our PI to look you up." Blair made a noise. It was hardly surprising, after all - she was amazed Evelyn hadn't done it earlier. Chuck paused for a moment and then handed her a slip of paper. "The maid's number," he murmured. It had been with the report in his room. "I figured you'd want to fire her and threaten legal action yourself."

Her fingers brushed his as she accepted the slip. She swallowed and looked away. "Thank you." They weren't used to thanking each other.

But if Evelyn had never got involved, Chuck thought, bitter, then none of this would even have happened. It shouldn't be gratitude that Blair was giving him at all.

"I'll see you later," he managed brusquely before he left.

Blair's fingers curled over the paper. Chuck couldn't even look at her. She exhaled and moved to the elevator, forcing herself not to watch him walk away.

She was exhausted, she realised.

"B!" The blonde was cutting off her exit from class, a determined light in her eyes. She folded her arms. "You can't ignore me forever."

Blair had gone straight to bed last night, avoiding Carter and Serena. She hadn't been able to face them. Carter had slouched off home in the end - unrepentant, Blair knew - and Serena had eventually given up knocking on her door. Blair had been too tired to even cry.

She had no choice but to stop now. "I'm not ignoring you." Her tone was clipped. She went to step round, but Serena caught her.

"Look," she begged. "I said I'm sorry for going to Carter. But I didn't know what else to do - you didn't give me a choice."

Blair's face whitened, dangerously. "I didn't give you a choice? So you still think this was all me?"

"No," Serena groaned. "Of course not. But B, if you'd just told me to begin with-"

"I did tell you!" Blair stared at her best friend in fury. "I told you they weren't mine. I told you it wasn't me. And you didn't listen."

"But you ran away," Serena insisted. "Instead of talking about it, you ran off to class. What was I supposed to think?"

"You were supposed to believe me," Blair snapped back. "How many times did you need telling?"

"B," Serena murmured at last. "If I'd believed you four years ago, you never would've got help in the first place. And you needed it then."

"It was nearly five years ago," Blair corrected, but she was nearly grinding her teeth in frustration. "And that was then. You don't think I've made any progress since?"

Progress by herself. Progress when Serena and Carter weren't there to threaten 'interventions', to second guess her. Progress when Serena wasn't there.

She deflated. It sank in her stomach, a horrible pit. A dull light had entered her eyes - a light that Serena didn't understand. "B-"

"I'm going to the accommodation office," Blair cut her off. The blonde looked at her in confusion. "And I'm going to ask to move into dorms." She couldn't do this anymore.

Serena's eyes widened in horror. "B, don't be crazy-"

"I'm not," Blair murmured. "But I will be if I go on living with you." She looked at her best friend for a moment and shook her head. Miserable. "And so will you."

Chuck was towelling his hair dry when his cell went. He paused before he picked it up. Bart. Had Evelyn done something else? He didn't think he could take any more.

"What's wrong?"

His father sounded vaguely irritated. "It's ten o'clock. Where are you?"

Chuck blinked in actual confusion. Where was he? Where else would he be? There was no way, surely, that Bart was talking about the office. "I thought I'd been fired," he bit at last.

Bart ignored that. "We have a meeting in half an hour. Make sure you're prepared." He hung up.

Chuck stared at his cell. His father was taking him back? He was actually giving him another chance? Chuck genuinely couldn't believe it. What the hell had changed the old man's mind?

There was a noise at the elevators.

He turned to see Blair. (Wasn't she meant to be in class?) She looked pale, he noticed. Pale and beautiful in a black and white shift dress - and was seeing her ever going to stop hurting? He managed to stop gazing at her, clearing his throat.

"Serena was looking for you."

"I know."

He glanced at her. "Did you forget something?"

Her eyes moved over his still damp hair, trying to ignore the pang at how mussed it was. She forced it away. "I need to tell you something." He saw the lump in her throat. "I'm...moving out."

He studied her as he tried to make sense of her words. "Carter-"

She shook her head. "I haven't told Carter yet."

Chuck was still. "Then why?"

She couldn't quite look at him. "Because I can't do this anymore." Her voice trembled, just for one second. She couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand admitting it to him - she'd come here to thank him and all she was doing was coming across weak and pathetic.

There was a silence.

"I didn't think there was anything Blair Waldorf couldn't do," Chuck murmured at last, almost raw as his eyes moved over her. He tried to make it light like he was joking, but he struggled to work out what she meant. Because she could do anything. What had made living here so suddenly unbearable?

Then he wondered why he'd even had to think about it.

What had made Carter and Serena turn against her? What had dragged her back into the past and refused to let go? Evelyn. Waiting at every step to sabotage her. He wanted to swear to her that it would never happen again, that he could stop his mother.

But he couldn't.

"I understand." It was stiff.

Blair looked at him, and there was a flicker in her eyes that he couldn't quite read. Then she quickly pulled them away. "Oh. Well, thank you."

She'd almost let herself think -

Well, what had she expected? Him to beg her to stay when she showed up whining that she couldn't take it any more? She hadn't expected that for a second.

(So why did she suddenly want him to tell her not to go?)

She sucked in a breath. "I mean it," she said softly. "Thank you." She gazed up at him; because she was grateful. More grateful, for last night, than she could express. More grateful than Blair Waldorf ever liked feeling.

He managed a nod. He could tell her he was sorry, and it wouldn't mean anything. She was better than this, he knew, and she deserved to be happy. To get away from the past. He'd realised that six years ago. He'd just let himself forget.

She gave him one final look, and then she was gone. He breathed out, slowly. It didn't make the pain in his chest go away.