'You're not going anywhere without me

And you shake and you bleed and I feel the same way.'

Carter lay, contented, on his back. The morning wind roared outside, but he was more occupied with the fact that Tish was sprawled on his bare chest. She'd arrived from England the night before, unannounced and without Max, and Carter had been more than happy to catch her as she wrapped those long legs around him and head straight to his bedroom. She told him she'd got bored of exam term at Cambridge. "I needed some retail therapy, darling."

She sat up languidly now, running her hands through her hair.

"Well," Carter stretched. "That's one way to work out those kinks from flying."

Tish pulled a face at him. "Don't joke. Maxxie needed the jet for some business in Hong Kong, so I had to fly commercially. And the awful air hostess laughed when I asked her where first class was, because I was in it." She gave a little shudder. "You know you have to share a toilet with the other first class passengers? It's horrific. And they don't take requests for dinner."

"Imagine," Carter drawled fondly.

She climbed off the bed, shaking auburn hair over pale shoulders as she stalked to the mirror.

"Where are you going?" he enquired. He'd been looking forward to spending the morning in bed with her.

"I have plans," she informed him, reaching idly for her dress. "With your sister."

Carter's scowl was instant. Blair hadn't spoken to him since she'd moved into the Columbia dorms. He still couldn't believe she was slumming it in dorms. He'd have told her as much, were she not still ignoring him.

"Apparently Dan's finished that article," Tish carried on. "Blair's set up lunch for us." Carter managed not to grit his teeth at the mention of Humphrey. Humphrey, lunch and that goddamn article. Tish spared him a glance as she stepped into her clothes. "Don't tell me you're arguing again?" she sighed. She zipped the dress up. "Is it the drug problem?"

Carter's eyes narrowed. "What drug problem?"

"It's all right," Tish assured him airily. "Blair told me all about it when I called her. The occasional pill is all right, darling, but if you're worrying your sister maybe you should cut back a bit?"

Carter stared, disbelieving. "She told you I had a drug problem?"

"Don't worry," Tish promised, "I convinced her not to stage an intervention. Like I said, you just need to cut back a bit." She smiled and slipped her feet into heels. "I'm sure I can think of better things for you to do now that I'm here." She placed a kiss on his lips and swept out of the room, leaving him to glower in outrage. Drug problem?

It was a lazy afternoon, the weather so miserable outside that any sensible person in Manhattan was tucked up at home. Up until a few minutes ago, Nate had not been one of them.

"Ok." He set down his glass of water, hair damp with sweat from his run. He faced his best friend. He didn't care about the wind outside - running had helped clear his head. "It's time."

Chuck arched an eyebrow. "Time for what, exactly?" He was perfectly put together in contrast to the blond, not a hint of sweat under his immaculate suit and a sheaf of papers in his hand. He had a meeting with Bart later - a meeting that he was already dreading. Evelyn was, at least, supposed to be in Italy for the weekend, so the Bass penthouse was relatively safe. Chuck didn't even want to look at his mother at the moment.

Nate dropped onto the opposite sofa. His face was serious. Serena had left for late lunch with Lily, which left the apartment empty except for the two of them. "Time to fix this. Serena's moping, we haven't seen Blair in days - this needs to stop."

Chuck forced himself not to stiffen at the sound of Blair's name. He shook his head instead. "Archibald-"

"I get it," Nate cut him off firmly. "I mean, Blair was away without any of us for six years. She can take care of herself. And maybe she needs time alone. But come on, she's sharing with Penelope." Even he knew what an awful living situation that was. "She's my friend too," he insisted. "You're telling me you don't want to get her back? This is Blair."

Chuck exhaled. "Blair," he pointed out drily. "Who would kill anyone who tried to interfere in her life."

Nate ignored him. "When has that ever stopped you? Besides," he pointed out, "She does more interferring than any of us."

Chuck had to admit that was true. Blair had always stuck to the policy that there were no boundaries when it came to her and saving Serena or straightening out Nate or keeping Chuck in line. She claimed it wasn't interferring - it was doing what was necessary. A policy Chuck also adhered to.

But it was Bass interference that had got Blair in this situation in the first place. Blair was freaking out and she needed to prove a point - a point, Chuck knew, that only she could prove. "She wants to remember who she is," Chuck said at last. His tone was brusque. "That's not something any of us can do for her."

Nate gave him a blank look. "But she's Blair." Remember who she was? She was the bossy, scheming brunette that had terrified and perplexed and amused him for as long as he could remember - how had that changed?

"Yeah." Chuck's voice was rigid because Nate was right. She was Blair. He didn't understand how she could think she'd changed either. A Blair Waldorf who hadn't lived on the Upper East Side for six years, who devoted her life to studying and chose to live in dorms was still Blair Waldorf. A Blair Waldorf who went completely off the rails was still Blair Waldorf. She could pretend all she liked, act as differently as she liked - it was still an act. However much she tried, Blair Waldorf could never be anything other than she was.

Blair Waldorf could never change - not really - any more than Chuck Bass could. He would never be anything other than he was.

And maybe that was the problem.

Carter was long past the age of needing someone to keep an eye on him - and God help the person who tried - but Lily still insisted on lunch at least twice a month, just to catch up. As if she didn't see him at events half the time anyway. He hadn't been looking forward to this particular lunch because Blair and Serena were supposed to be there. But when he arrived at his former guardian's penthouse, hair swept from the wind, it was to be told that Blair had been and gone. Serena informed him, disgruntled, that she'd left with Tish for more shopping. (She'd better not have invited fucking Humphrey along). Carter had no idea why the blonde was complaining - at least Blair was talking to Serena. And yes. Carter was utterly unrepentant for what he'd done. He did not crawl to his sister with apologies, especially not when she was giving him the silent treatment.

"Carter." Lily smiled as she gestured for him to take his seat at the table. She didn't comment on how late he was. Carter dropped into a chair and reached instantly for his wine glass - but he was stopped by Lily's raised eyebrow. "We need to have a word," she said delicately. Her hand covered his for a moment. "Do I need to be worried?"

Carter arched a brow back. "I'm sorry?"

The woman cleared her throat. "Blair and I had a chat. I know you like to...cut loose, occassionally-"

And then realisation sunk in. "I don't have a drug problem," he snarled before she could go on. He couldn't believe his sister.

Serena snorted from the other side of the table and Lily surveyed him for a moment. "You're sure about that?" Carter just glared. "All right," Lily smiled again. "Just checking. You know you don't need to hide anything from me, Carter. I'm always here." Carter rolled his eyes and reached for the wine again. Lily moved it out of his grasp. "Why don't you try some orange juice?" She gave his hand another little pat and then rose, taking the wine with her.

Carter glowered at her retreating figure. Serena was still smirking. "So funny," Carter sniped at her. He took a mouthful of orange juice and pulled a face of disgust.

"Drink up," Serena answered sweetly. "Addicts need their vitamin C."

Carter's lip curled. "You're lucky she's not telling Lily you're an alcoholic."

And just like that, Serena's expression turned cold. "You're the one who took it too far. I told you ambushing her was too much."

"Please," Carter scoffed. "You were in complete agreement until Blair found out. And," he added nastily, "You were the one who called me in the first place."

"Because I was worried," Serena replied, hot.

"And I wasn't?" Something dangerous flashed on Carter's usually bored face for a moment. His eyes were hard.

Serena just sighed and shook her head. "Well, it was a mistake."

"You think?" Carter's tone was acidic, and Serena gave him a narrow look.

"I'm losing her," she said at last. Her shoulders slumped. "Or...maybe I've already lost her. Maybe I've been losing her ever since we got back to Manhattan."

That made him roll his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Serena paused a moment and then shook her head again. "I don't know," she murmured. Maybe she'd started losing Blair the day she'd gone to boarding school. "But only seeing her in the holidays for six years-"

"Oh no." Carter had already cut her off. "No, no. You're not blaming this on me too." His eyes narrowed at her. "Lily agreed that boarding school was the best thing for her. So did that shrink. She's been back in Manhattan for months now - if you two have fallen out, then you have no one to blame but yourselves."

Serena sent him a frown. "Wow, thanks."

Carter just shrugged. "I won't be held responsible for your catfights. Or for my sister being a bitch," he clarified. "Or your general sloppiness driving her crazy."

Was that it, Serena wondered? Did they really drive each other crazy? "Of course not, Carter," she sighed as she got to her feet. She flipped him a glance over her shoulder. "Good luck with your habit." She was gone.

Carter scowled.

"I'm...sorry."

And she actually was. Toby was a great guy. He was good-looking, intelligent, charming and funny. And on top of it all - genuinely sweet. But Blair Waldorf wasn't. She wasn't sweet. She wasn't nice or gentle or patient. She could act it, but only for so long. Only in the occassional burst.

Telling him the truth now was probably the most selfless thing she'd done in a long time. In fact, she decided, it probably exceeded her quota for the year. She liked Toby. She wanted to want Toby. But that wasn't the same as wanting him. Whoever Blair Waldorf was or had been - she wasn't a girl that clung to a guy simply because he was nice to her. And what she'd just told him was true, because the last thing she wanted at the moment was a relationship. Not that she really had any kind of relationship now anyway, other than school and fashion and social networking. She wasn't speaking to her brother, her friendship with Serena was hanging by a thread, and Chuck -

"So am I." Toby smiled a little. "Although I hope we can still be friends?"

Blair managed a smile back over her coffee. "I'd like that." Toby brushed her hand, briefly, over the table. His fingers were warm, but they weren't -

"I'm meant to be seeing Tish for dinner tonight, but she cancelled." He glanced at her. "I'm guessing it has something to do with your brother."

Blair rolled her eyes in response. "I wouldn't know," she said archly. "Whatever Carter does is none of my business."

Toby grinned. "Tish mentioned he seemed a little down."

"I'm sure she's putting a stop to that as we speak."

They both pulled a face at the visual. "Well, speaking as an older cousin..." Toby shrugged. "I'm sure he just wants to know you're ok." Tish had complained to him via phone that the two of them not speaking made her life unecessarily complicated.

"Hmm." Blair's smirk was grim - she wasn't so sure about that. If Lily had already spoken to him, then she was pretty confident her wellbeing would be the last thing on her brother's mind. She just wished she could have seen his face. "Well," she paused. "Since Carter derailed your plans for the evening...how would you like to come to a Columbia alumni event tonight?" Provided she kept him well away from Penelope, perhaps she could introduce him to a nice Columbia girl. She hadn't really been looking forward to the event herself. Especially since both Nate and Serena were garuanteed to be there.

(And what exactly was wrong with her, some deep buried instinct wondered, that made the presence of two of her best friends a bad thing? It was an instinct that she forced away.)

"I'd love to."

"Great." Blair stood, reaching for her coat. "I'll meet you at eight?"

Toby stood to help her into the garment. "See you then."

She was so busy mentally considering the perfect girl for him - there had to be some potential from Hamilton House, surely? - as she left the cafe, that it took her a moment to notice Damien. When she did the smile slipped straight off her face. God, what was he doing here?

"Blair." Unlike Toby, he definitely did not have a great smile. "What are you doing here? Did I just see you on a date with...Toby Lloyd Davis?" The name was a sneer on his mouth. "I mean, I would've rescued you, but-"

Blair gave him a cool look. "Did you want something, Damien?" Her tone was bored.

Something flickered on his face, but he kept his voice smooth. "I was actually going to ask if you were going to the Columbia thing tonight."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "As far as I'm aware, all freshmans are invited. But I'm pretty sure it's just for Columbia students. It being a Columbia event."

Damien's answer was a smirk. "I'm going with a friend. I'm her plus one. I wasn't going to bother, but since she begged..." Some desperate freshman with a bad coke habit.

"A plus one. Lucky you." Blair was beyond sick of Damien, and she had an outfit for tonight to select. Plus the wind outside was doing nothing for her hair. Where the hell was James with the car?

"Well, I hope I'll see you there."

There was an edge to Damien's voice that irritated her even more. She finally turned on him, lips tight. "All right. I pretended to go along with your little charade the last two times you 'bumped' into me, but enough is enough. Maybe you've decided I'll make a good client now that we're out of school - but I wasn't interested in your little pills then, Damien, and I'm not now. Go bother someone else."

His expression had turned ugly. How did she know about the drugs? Had Chuck fucking Bass told her? "Right," he leered. "Because Blair Waldorf never likes to party. Until, you know, you came here and started hanging out with your old friend. Because then you'll do anything, won't you?"

Blair's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'm sorry?" It was like ice.

"You start sleeping with him and suddenly you think you're better than me," Damien snorted. "It's pathetic. You think he even thought about you once while you were away at school? I know we read enough about him. You think he was waiting for you while you refused to let any guy even get past first base? While you were saving yourself for him? You know only reason he started sleeping with you once you got back was for his mother."

Her mouth was now pinched in fury. Slowly, she cocked her head. "Damien. You're a sleazy drug-dealer with greasy hair and daddy issues. I think it's safe to say I was always better than you." She looked him over. "The only thing that's changed since school is now, I don't have to see you in class every day. So do me a favour and run along. Oh." She paused. "And if I hear you mention any of Chuck's family again...maybe I'll pay a visit to yours. You can say hi to your father from me."

The thinly veiled threat made his face puce. Particularly as it echoed Chuck's. "You're going to be sorry, Blair."

"Not as sorry as if I have to spend another second talking to you." She was already turning away. James had brought the car around, at last - she climbed in without a single glance back.

Damien's hands had balled into fists as he watched the car drive off. The wind roared around him as he finally snapped. Oh, she was going to be sorry all right. He'd had enough.

Chuck came to a stop when the elevator doors of his parents' apartment slid open. He could hear her. For whatever reason, Evelyn wasn't in Rome. He could hear her mocking tones - which could only mean Bart was also home.

Slowly, he crossed the hall and stood before the living room.

His father was seated on the sofa - stiff and upright, face impassive and file in hand - while Evelyn prowled the room. She was langurous as she tossed back a glass of Bart's favourite scotch, letting the tumbler fall to the floor.

"Oh, look." Her dark eyes slanted on her son in the doorway. "Here he is. My precious boy. Come to disappoint me as much as his father, I assume? You know," her laugh was mirthless as she turned back to Bart, "I should congratulate you on a job well done, Bartholomew. You've managed to raise a son almost as unloveable as you are. Except he couldn't even get Blair to start with. At least you got further than that with me, didn't you?"

Bart ignored her.

"I thought you were going to Italy." Chuck spoke coldly. He couldn't stand it. Always, there was the nausea and seething dislike - but now a hatred of a different kind consumed him. Something that boiled too dangerously close to the surface, just watching the curve of her mouth, just hearing that drawl -

Evelyn didn't even look at him. "Although he's sadly lacking in your powers of observation, otherwise he would have noticed the weather outside." Those dark eyes finally flickered to Chuck as Bart didn't even flinch. "Sadly I won't be flying anywhere this weekend, sweetheart. I'm sure your father's devastated that the pilot he hired is too much of a coward to brave a bit of wind. It would have made his day, I'm sure - an airplane crash would get me nicely out of the way, not to mention the insurance he'd get from the Bass jet." She allowed some more of Bart's scotch to trickle out of the bottle, staining the thousand dollar Persian rug on the floor. Her face was a mask of boredom - a mask that Chuck himself had perfected, learned directly from her. "I suppose I'll have to make do with another stockbroker tonight. It's a shame - I was so looking forward to Gianlucca-"

"That's enough," he suddenly snapped.

Evelyn arched one very slow brow. Even Bart spared him the briefest of glances. "What's this?" Evelyn murmured. "Is your son actually trying to defend you, Bartholomew? I'd be careful," her eyes flickered to Chuck, "Your poor father might feel like he owes you something."

Chuck just gave her an icy look. "Don't you have a desperate stockbroker to find?"

Evelyn's eyes darkened. "You've decided to be on his side now, Charles?" It was mocking. "I hope you're not expecting love or any sort of gratitude for this. If you're lucky, your father might manage a nod. Just don't come crying to me," she laughed, "When you're left alone and penniless without so much as a thank you. Maybe if you'd landed the Waldorf girl..."

The warning was clear, but Chuck was past that. "If you go after Blair again," he said, soft, "You're going to regret it."

"Well." Evelyn's mouth curled. "That's family loyalty for you." She looked at her son for a moment, and then shook her head. "I promise you, Charles. You're the only one who's going to regret this." She stalked out.

Blair smoothed the diamond necklace over her collarbone, lipstick a deep red to match the full colour of her dress. It had been so long since she'd run an outfit by her mother for approval - and still she found herself wondering, as always, if any of this would ever have been enough for Eleanor. Would she have told her the red washed her out? That the top part of the dress did nothing for her chest? The doubts came in Eleanor's voice, like they always did, though Blair wasn't sure if they were really her mother's or her own any more. (Would Eleanor even have cared? Had she ever, or was it just her own perception warping all the memories?)

It didn't matter either way. Eleanor wasn't here to give her opinion any more. And, Blair decided, she liked the red. She and Serena had picked the dress out together that summer. And Serena had been the one to find the perfect shoes to go with the outfit...shortly before Chuck had whisked Blair into one of the dressing rooms to relieve her shopping stress. She'd been very firm that he didn't crease the dress at all - it was perfectly smooth over her hips and stomach, now, as her fingers traced the zip and she remembered his hand following the same path. She forced the memory away.

And then she was wondering how things were going at Bass Industries, how Bart was treating him, if Evelyn -

The only reason he started sleeping with you once you got back was for his mother.

Well, he wasn't sleeping with her now. She was aware of the influence Evelyn held over her son's life - she'd grown up with it, after all - and she knew all too well that the woman had the ability to make his life a living hell. Well, more of a living hell than she did already. She'd guessed that whatever blackmail Evelyn used had something to do with Bart. The one thing guaranteed to have any hold over Chuck, for all his apparent indifference to the man.

But Damien was a moron, because Blair had had just as much motivation for dating Chuck too. She knew Evelyn was after Waldorf Designs, and if she let the woman think she was getting closer to her goal, then she was far less likely to take drastic measures. Blair could play along, but there was no way in hell she was letting Evelyn Bass anywhere near her mother's company.

Except that hadn't been why she'd started any of what she'd started with Chuck. And she hadn't been saving herself for him at all - she hadn't had sex before because she hadn't wanted to. Because it was better to leave boys wanting more. Because she was in control as long as they were unsatisfied and she was better than them. And then she'd lost that control, completely, with Chuck.

Or had she just stopped caring about the control? Had she ever been in control, really? While she was running and studying and weighing herself and social climbing and covering up nightmares - anything other than being alone or lonely or those terrors in the night - had that been control? Had she ever been in control?

The most in control she'd felt had been finally coming home. The beginning of the summer, when Serena and Nate and Carter had all known exactly who she was, and Chuck had looked at her with pure lust and admiration. Before the past had caught up with her and sent it all crashing down.

You think he ever thought about you once while you were away at school?

But that was what made her feel sick. He'd never shown that first summer. An indifferent Chuck wouldn't have bothered to skip the country just to avoid her. He had thought about her. He'd thought about her, before then, enough to tell Carter he was worried. Chuck Bass worrying about her, pitying her -

She shook her head in frustration and ran her hands over her hair. She wasn't going back there again. Not the humiliation of worrying what Chuck thought of her. But that didn't stop her from worrying about him, from her stomach clenching at the thought of Evelyn and the havoc she wouldn't hesitate to wreak. It didn't stop her from missing him. From missing his smirk or the feel of his lips on hers, his touch, the heat of his chest, the gleam in his eye.

She missed Chuck and she missed Serena, and Nate - and even her feckless brother. She missed all of them. She missed them even more as the door opened and Penelope strutted in.

The girl's gaze flickered immediately over her outfit, eyes narrowed, eager. "I love your dress."

Blair's smile back was frosty. Penelope seemed to be falling over herself to get into her good graces - but Blair didn't forget. Still. Minions, she needed. "Why aren't you ready yet?"

Penelope dropped down onto her bed with a scowl. "Well, I had the most perfect Valentino on hold...but when I went to pick it up today, I found out Serena ordered the exact same one in blue." She had most definitely switched alleigences - serving Blair, she'd decided, would be so much more advantageous than following Serena ever had been. And now that Serena and Blair weren't speaking, she was more than happy to push on the divide to become Blair's new bff.

Blair didn't like the way Penelope said Serena's name. She paused just long enough to look at the other girl. "Then I'd suggest finding something else. I think you know any dress will look better on Serena than it ever would on you."

Penelope's face fell into an instant sulk.

Blair spared her a cool smile before picking up her clutch and sweeping out of the room.

Bart and Chuck had both been focused, for the past hour, on the numbers in front of them and not on the silence Evelyn had left. Work was infinitely preferable to the thought of his mother, anyway. Although the more he concentrated on paperwork, the more those thoughts taunted him. You're the only one who's going to regret this. He'd pushed her too far. He'd pushed her too far, he knew, and now she'd go after Bart. His fault.

His father finally put the last sheaf of paper down as the last rays of sun sunk in the sky. "So I'll see you tomorrow morning, nine o'clock sharp."

Chuck gave a curt nod and got to his feet. His stomach was knotting in dread now. How long would it take for Evelyn to start plotting her revenge? He'd seen the glint in her eye. If she went down, then she was dragging Bart down with her. Chuck picked up the dossier and moved towards the door. And he hesitated.

What was he meant to do? Warn his father he may have just set his mother on him? No. He would have to stop Evelyn himself. He'd have to -

"Chuck." Bart cleared his throat. The boy paused in the doorway and Bart glanced at him. "I hope Blair's all right after the incident the other week?" He sounded stiff as ever. If you're lucky, your father might manage a nod.

"She's fine," Chuck muttered. It would take a hell of a lot more than a false bulimia accusation for her to be otherwise. Which he was sure his mother would take every measure to discover.

"Good." Bart paused a moment, Chuck still halfway out the door. "I'm sorry," he sighed, and he sounded suddenly very weary.

Chuck stopped. Bart Bass was apologising? Bart Bass was apologising to him? He had never known his father to express regret or even second thoughts for a single action. Least of all to his son. And what exactly, Chuck wondered, was he sorry for?

"For what?" his voice was very low. Bart regarded him. His blue eyes were as cold and unreadable as ever. "You're not sorry." Chuck's lip curled. "If you were sorry, you'd actually do something." He couldn't stop the sudden sneer, the bitter anger. If his father was as exhausted of Evelyn as Chuck was, then why the hell hadn't he left her years ago and put an end to all this? If Bart had bothered to express any kind of emotion, at any point, rather than coldly ignoring his wife, then he'd have been free a long time ago. Then there wouldn't be the tension, the seething dislike in their penthouse every single day. Bart was as much to blame as Evelyn for all of this. They all were. They sniped, they were cruel and mocking and spiteful and they did nothing. Bart, who was supposed to be a man of action. He was ruthless enough in the boardroom. So why did he do nothing at home?

Bart's brow had darkened. His eyes, though, remained cool. "What?"

"You're the one who stayed married to her for twenty years," Chuck answered mercilessly. "If you're that sorry, you'd have divorced her and put us all out of our misery." His expression was icy with contempt, fury. "But you never will, will you?"

Bart looked at his son, flat. "And what exactly would a divorce have achieved?" he asked at last. "You'd have nothing, Charles. Your mother would get full custody and cut you off completely. Is that what you'd have wanted?"

Chuck stared at him. "That wouldn't have-"

"Of course it would," Bart snapped.

Chuck pressed his lips together. "Well, I'm eighteen now. Custody isn't an issue any more." Was that why his father hated him so much, he wondered? Had he really been the reason, the whole time, that he'd had to stay married to Evelyn? (And why did his father even care?)

Bart let out a humourless laugh in response. "And how do you think that divorce settlement would work out? You're not going to inherit Bass Industries if your mother owns half the company."

Chuck watched his father in silence. "You can't seriously tell me you're stuck with her because of me," he said at last, rigidly. No wonder Bart couldn't stand him.

His brow was just as heavy. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, Chuck."

Chuck clenched his jaw at his father's patronizing tone, mouth twisting. "No, I understand now. You must regret the day I was ever born." If they'd never had children, Bart and Evelyn might have been over a long time ago. Well, Chuck thought savagely, maybe they should've been a bit more careful with birth control.

Bart gave him a brusque look. "Don't be ridiculous. You're the best thing that came out of any of this." His tone was so crisp that it took Chuck a moment to realise what he'd said; he blinked.

The best thing?

Bart couldn't possibly mean that. "Please. If it weren't for me-"

"Then I would have nothing to remind me of your mother, and no one to inherit my company."

Chuck narrowed his eyes, because his throat wasn't entirely working properly. "Why would you want someone to remind you of her?" he managed at last. Why would Bart want the same sneer, the same mocking dark eyes and all of Evelyn's cruelty thrown back in his face every day?

His father released a short sigh. "However hard you may find it to believe...I was in love with your mother once." His face was closed and devoid of emotion, but something in his voice made Chuck pause.

(Did he still love her, he wondered? Was it even possible?)

There was a silence. And then Chuck forced his voice to work and finally spoke. "She's going to go after you. If she can't get Waldorf Designs, then she's going after Bass Industries."

Bart's gaze was even, unaffected. "She's been threatening that for years," he replied drily.

Chuck shook his head. "No. She knows things." He looked at his father - because he wasn't even supposed to know this. They didn't speak about it. "She knows about that building. About the fire. She's going to tell the board."

Bart was quiet for a moment. As expected, the mention of the fire had tightened his face. Chuck knew about the insurance scam, and he knew about the death of the security guard that Bart had taken such lengths to cover up. "She told you this?" he asked eventually.

Chuck just nodded.

His father's lips thinned. "Well," he murmured at last. "I suppose I'd better start damage control." His shoulders were heavy as he rose to his feet, reaching for his cell phone. He glanced at Chuck one last time. "Thank you." He cleared his throat. "For telling me. I appreciate it."

Chuck regarded his father back. "Can I do anything to help?" he asked thickly.

"No."

It was brusque. Chuck mentally kicked himself for being so stupid, hating that he'd let that single word affect him. No. Of course he couldn't. Why would his father want his help anyway?

And then, as Bart was nearing the door, the man paused just for a moment. His hand rested on Chuck's shoulder. Heavy and unfamiliar - the most physical contact they'd had in a long time. Chuck had gone still. "This is my mess," his father sighed. "I'll keep her away from the company. You...keep her away from Blair." They exchanged a look. And with that, he was gone.

"Um, who's your friend, Blair?" Jessica was all smiles as she noticed Toby, hands fluttering to her blonde hair and pearl necklace. "Hi!"

Blair repressed an eyeroll. At least Jessica was a step up from Penelope - more loyal, for one thing. She giggled as she offered to get him a drink, elbowing past the other Hamilton House members. Toby actually seemed quite content to be fussed over by the pretty girls. He flashed Blair a grin.

Blair swallowed a mouthful of champagne and shook her head.

"Blair."

Oh, great.

Damien stood behind her, date hanging off his arm. Blair only needed to glance at her to know exactly what she was getting from their partnership. "Damien."

"Having fun?"

Her smile back was acidic. "I was."

Toby had glanced over, Jessica still hovering close. "All right, Dalgaard?"

Damien's lip curled unpleasantly. "Fine." He moved off with his client, and Blair rolled her eyes in relief. She didn't notice him still watching her as he and the girl disappeared to the bar and she turned back to her drink. She didn't notice because she'd just spotted Nate and Serena on the other side of the room. Her stomach clenched, almost a pang. Serena was laughing at something Nate had said, Nate's blue eyes creased and Serena's grin wide. It faltered as her gaze fell on Blair. She bit her lip. Nate smiled over at her.

Blair forced a smile back, but it felt frozen on her face.

She wanted to go over to them, wanted to join in their joke and laugh too like she belonged with them. The coldness between her and Serena, the forced smiles and the forced lightness - it was exhausting. Was she even mad at her, still? She knew the blonde had done what she thought was best, knew that if their positions were reversed then she'd do exactly the same. But every time she tried to talk to Serena, to let it go, the hot shame bubbled up; the fear, bitter, that she'd see pity in that blue gaze. And what if Serena was having more fun without her anyway?

But it was wrong. Being on the other side of the room from Serena and Nate was wrong, and it was an instinct that refused to disappear.

"Why don't we just go and talk to her?" Nate was muttering to Serena, hopeful. "Just go over, and-"

"She's ignoring me," Serena insisted. "She doesn't want to talk to me. And you know, there's only so many times I can apologise." She folded her arms.

"Come on," Nate tried. "This is Blair." (He was losing count of how many times he'd said that. But shouldn't it have been enough?)

Serena remained stubborn. "She's the one who moved out. She's the one who's been acting like she doesn't even want to be friends any more."

"She was feeling lost," the other blond attempted to remember what Chuck had told him. "You know, maybe she just needed some time to...figure things out."

"Figure what out?" Serena demanded. "Whether or not she wants me to be her best friend? Whether or not I'm good enough for her?"

Nate paused as his girlfriend took a deep sip of champagne, now pointedly ignoring the brunette on the other side of the room. He looked over at her. He'd caught her, staring back over at them. "Serena," he attempted finally. "It's not just you. I mean, she's cutting me out too - and Chuck, and Carter. Maybe it's not..." he shrugged. "Maybe we're not the problem."

He saw Serena hesitate. Saw her eyes slide to Blair, and held his breath -

"Then, she needs to talk to me." Serena took another determined gulp of champagne and turned away, though her voice didn't sound half as convinced. And when she thought Nate wasn't looking, her gaze flickered, once more, to Blair. And both she and Blair looked away at the same time.

Spotted: B, vibrant in Versace and ignoring her supposed best friend...still. Looks like this Cold War isn't ending any time soon. At least S still has N - who does B have, exactly?

Chuck rolled his eyes at the blast - though he did note, painfully, that she did indeed look vibrant in Versace. Her red dress was gorgeous, and her full red lips made him ache to kiss that lipstick off. Was this what he was reduced to, he wondered? Gazing at Gossip Girl blasts of her like some kind of pathetic stalker?

He was Chuck Bass, for fuck's sake.

He was Chuck Bass and he missed her. He wanted her. He loved her. He couldn't imagine a day when he wouldn't be in love with her. (Was that it, he wondered? Was that how Bart felt about Evelyn? Even at her cruellest and most manipulative?) He remembered her thanking him, remembered the way those dark eyes had held his, just for a moment, as she'd told him she was moving out...and not having her in the penthouse had been unbearable. Not having Serena and Blair or Nate and Blair - it had been that way for the past six years, and it wasn't till she'd come back that he realised just how wrong it had been. Or maybe he'd always known. Her not being there was wrong. Not having Blair to boss them around, to snipe at Serena or snap at Nate, not having Blair to spar and scheme with, to mock, to play Hepburn movies over and over, to organise and order and take down enemies with - they'd all known it.

They'd all told themselves it was what was best for her, and Chuck had forced back the selfish knowledge that it didn't feel like what was best at all. The knowledge that he just wanted her there.

And that was still all he wanted. He wasn't a saint or a white knight - and he wasn't selfless. He was his father's son, and he didn't know how to be selfless.

This is my mess.

And maybe it was, he realised - maybe Evelyn was Bart's mess.

But Blair was his.

"Ok, man, this should do the job-"

Nate heard the voices stop as soon as he entered the bathroom. He paused, frowning. There were two guys in one of the cubicles. He hastily decided that it would be best to get his business done and get the hell out. Awkward. He was just zipping up when he realised he'd recognised one of them - a guy he'd met in the Hamptons. Blair's friend from boarding school. (What was his name again?)

He couldn't help a faint bemused grin as he left. Maybe he should have known from the guy's hair...and he was European. still, Serena had been convinced he had a thing for Blair. She'd never believe Nate when he told her. With any luck, it would distract her from pretending to ignore Blair. For all of five seconds.

Penelope was sulking. Blair had been ignoring her all night - she kept looking over at Serena, like it wasn't obvious - and Jessica had called first dibs on the undeniably hot Toby. Not that Penelope cared. The truth was, Nate had always been the guy she'd really wanted. Personally, she didn't think Serena deserved him. Something she would never have dared voice until she'd met Blair and realised that Serena just wasn't a satisfying queen to follow.

In fact, she decided, she no longer liked Serena at all. The blonde got everything, and it just wasn't fair. (And Penelope had really wanted to wear that dress. She had the perfect figure for it).

She was sitting sullen-faced at the bar now, alternately pouting and glowering over her champagne at anyone who got in her way. She arched an eyebrow at the guy that had just been checking her out - because he'd just decided to sit next to her.

"Can I help you?" she asked snidely. She'd seen him earlier, actually, talking to Blair.

"I thought you could use some company," the guy replied with a smile. She took a moment to assess him. He wasn't bad looking, she supposed - dirty blond hair and a tux, though he was unfortunately shorter than her.

"Well I'm not interested in yours."

The guy just smirked again and followed her gaze to Blair. "You know, that blonde girl really seems to be ruining her night."

"Obviously." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, she's been ignoring her for weeks. Whatever she did," she added with some relish, "It must have been pretty serious."

The guy regarded her for a moment. "I heard," he said at last, offhand, "That she slept with Chuck."

And at that, Penelope's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "What? Serena and Chuck had sex? When? And why doesn't Gossip Girl know about this?" She was was already, eagerly, pulling out her cell.

Damien raised a hand to stop her. "Because Blair probably doesn't want her to know. I doubt she'd be very happy with the person who leaked it."

Please, Penelope thought with some scorn, as if she'd ever find out. God, this was the scoop of the year! She couldn't wait.

"On the other hand," Damien put in, "If a person were to help her take down Serena...I'm sure she'd be eternally grateful. Not to mention that it would put her on top. Where she belongs."

Penelope's gaze gleamed. "Well, if someone were to tell Nate-"

"Then Nate probably wouldn't believe them. Don't you think public humiliation would work so much better?"

Penelope glanced over to where the two blondes stood. Perfect Serena and her perfect golden hair...well, she clearly wasn't all that perfect. Public humiliation was exactly what she deserved. Her eyes skimmed back to Damien. "Do you have a plan?"

Damien simply smiled, cold.

Carter and Tish were playing their own version of strip poker with some Dom '95. Tish was currently down to the tight slip she'd bought just that day, while Carter was just in his boxers and a sock.

"I think you learned this game too well," he murmured as he lost the sock.

"Well," Tish answered brightly, eyeing his almost naked form, "I learned from the best." Her smile stretched as the next song came onto Carter's i-pod - "Oh, let's dance. I love this song." She folded herself onto his lap, cards forgotten, and dragged him to his feet.

He caught her, fingers tangling in her hair as he kissed her. She pressed her body into his, tilting her head back.

"Mmm, do you remember this song playing the first time we slept together?"

Carter raised an eyebrow at her, hands sliding round her waist. "I'm amazed you remember."

She laughed lazily. "I may not have been very sober at the time...but I do remember." She kissed his bare chest. "That...and certain other things."

He grabbed her, kissing her full on the mouth again. "I missed you, Tish."

"I missed you too," she sighed. "You know, no one in England even compares to you." She paused a moment. "Oh, except Maxxie. Obviously."

Carter rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

Tish grinned as she gazed up at him, fingers twining round his neck. "Oh, Carter...you're not jealous, are you? You know that's not how this works."

In answer, he tossed her down onto the sofa, all legs, and fell on top of her, making her shriek with delight as their lips met each other's. He kissed her till he forgot that he was raging with jealousy, because he knew damn well that that wasn't how it worked at all.

Blair could see that Penelope was up to something. Something that involved Serena. The girl had no subtlety at all, she thought in annoyance. Right now she was advancing on the blonde with two glasses of champagne, one of which clearly had something awful in. Blair would put her money on a laxative, or something equally unimaginative. She marched up to the girls before Penelope could get any further.

"Are you a bartender now, P?" she enquired.

She saw Serena turn confused eyes on her, while Penelope froze a little. "Uh, no - I just wanted to toast Serena on her success in Hamilton house-"

"How kind," Blair intercut crisply. "So where's my toast?"

Penelope floundered for a moment. "I-"

Blair plucked one of the glasses from her. The one that she hadn't been offering Serena. "Come on, then. Drink up."

Penelope's eyes were wide as she stared at the glass she'd intended for the blonde. No way was she drinking from that. "Well-"

Blair riased her glass expectantly. "Well?"

"I'm not that thirsty."

"I'm sure," Blair simpered. Her gaze turned steely. "Drink."

She lifted her own glass to her lips and took a long, slow sip as she regarded Penelope. "Mm. Delicious. Come on, P, try some." She drank some more.

The other girl blinked, trapped. Damien hadn't said this would happen. She shifted from side to side. And then, finally, in one desperate movement, she threw the glass from her hand. "Oops!"

Blair hissed in fury as the champagne hit her dress, soaking it, and the glass smashed at her feet. "You classless imbecile!"

Penelope flinched a little, but she was honestly just relieved that she'd got rid of it. Damien had said the substance would leave a girl on the toilet for hours. And that it worked almost immediately. "I'll just, uh...get someone to clean that up." She made a swift departure, leaving Blair to glare.

Serena, meanwhile, was still frowning at her. "What was...all that about?"

Blair opened her mouth to tell her what Penelope had obviously been planning - and then found that she couldn't. Because just for the briefest moment, a look had crossed Serena's face. A look that it took Blair a moment to figure out.

"Blair...I'm sure Penelope would have toasted you too. You're a member of Hamilton House."

Blair stared at her in disbelief. "That wasn't..." Her voice got stuck in her throat. Bitter. "Never mind." So Serena still thought she was jealous and pathetic? She shook her head.

"B," Serena attempted.

But Blair had pushed past her. "I need to go fix my dress."

Actually, what she needed to do was get out. Her dress was reeking of aclohol and beyond fixing. She left the blonde gaping after her and headed for the exit, reaching for her phone and trying to force back the ridiculous lump in her throat. She suddenly felt very tired all over again, and a pounding had statred in her head.

"Where did Blair go?" Nate asked, at a loss. It looked like the situation had managed to get even worse, and he wasn't sure how. But Serena did not look happy.

She answered by flagging down another drink. "I have no idea." She lifted her chin, defiant, though her eyes were glossy with hurt. "And I don't care."

The air was freezing outside as Blair waited, and the wind cut straight through her - but she welcomed it. That stifled feeling had come back, the sickly sweet champagne making her feel nauseous. She grew more dizzy and exhausted the longer she waited. Where the hell was James? His service had been so crappy of late.

And it hurt, still, that Serena thought she was that pathetic and desperate. Was she? No. She wasn't. She'd made her own path in Hamilton House. She was succeeding where Serena wasn't - she was doing better in school, in her internship...and why was she turning it all into a stupid competition again? Her head really hurt. And she missed Chuck. She didn't know why it was hitting her now all of a sudden, all over again - she'd spent so long pushing it back - but it was threatening to overwhelm her now. She wanted to call him and hear the smirk in his voice. The last time she'd felt this awful had been after she'd tried Nate's brownies, and she remembered pulling Chuck down into the bed with her, remembered telling him she loved him -

She blinked as the streetlights blurred above her, aware that the sidewalk suddenly seemed to be coming up to meet her. She reached for the wall, bricks hard against her back. What was wrong with her? She hadn't had any pot this time, that was for sure.

She reached for her phone again, fingers sliding to the one on the speed-dial - Chuck - and the device slipped from her hand, crashing to the floor. God, her head was killing her. She felt like she was about to throw up. She needed James to come - she needed Chuck -

And a hand had suddenly slipped around her waist, steadying her. "It's ok, I've got you."

She shook her head; not Chuck. It was Damien, she realised, and she didn't want to be anywhere near him. "Get - off-"

But he was still pulling her, hailing down a taxi that passed in a blur of yellow. "Come on-"

"Miss Waldorf?"

She recognised that voice. At last. Finally, James was here -

"It's ok," Damien was telling him, "I'm gonna take her home."

The driver was saying something back, and he didn't seem happy; Blair tried to lurch towards him. "James. I need to go home." But her voice was slurred and the words were coming out wrong.

James and Damien seemed to be having some kind of argument, Damien was saying things like 'too much to drink' - but she hadn't had too much to drink, had she? She tried to tell them she hadn't but she still couldn't seem to form a sentence. And as soon as she opened her mouth, she wanted to throw up all over again. So she shut it. She couldn't be seen throwing up on the sidewalk.

"Ok," Damien was telling James impatiently, "Take us back to the dorms, then, and I'll make sure she gets to bed-"

And then she was being guided into her limo, cell phone forgotten on the ground. On the other end of the line, Chuck, who was in his own car on the way to the Columbia event, finally hung up. Blair must have called him by mistake - all he could hear were muffled sounds. But he'd be there soon enough.

Blair's limo sped away as she slipped out of consciousness and onto Damien's shoulder.