Then I heard your heart beating; you were in the darkness too
So I stayed in the darkness with you.'
Damien was aware, as he hauled Blair out of the limo, that there was something wrong. Her driver had climbed out too, looking deeply suspicious. They were in front of the Columbia dorms now. "What's going on?" His gaze rested on the unconscious girl. "Is she all right?"
"Of course," Damien snapped. "I told you, she just had too much to drink. She needs her bed."
James folded his arms. "Should I call her brother?"
"No." Damien ground his teeth. "You know me, remember? I was at school with her? I'll make sure she gets upstairs ok. And I'll stay with her to make sure nothing else happens. She just needs to sleep it off."
James paused. "Well, take my number so you can call in case."
The boy just about managed not to roll his eyes. "I wasn't aware Blair's driver was her new father. We'll be fine. Thanks." And he looped his arms under Blair's limp body and carried her up to the building.
The drugs weren't meant to make her lose consciousness completely. Just disorientate her. He staggered into the elevator, half dragging her to her room as he pulled the key out of her purse. And once inside, he dumped her on the sofa.
But she was completely out of it. He tried calling her name and slapping her cheeks to get her to wake up – nothing. There was a brief stab of panic as he checked to see that she was still breathing; she was. He ran a hand through his hair. Shit. This wasn't supposed to happen at all. Had she had a bad reaction to what he'd slipped her? More panic was creeping up on him as she responded to nothing and he realised her skin was cold to the touch.
If she didn't wake up -
He could get in serious trouble for this. All he'd meant to do was finally get what he was owed. What she'd refused to give him for so long. And then in the morning, when she remembered nothing, he'd tell her she'd wanted it as much as he had. He'd wanted to punish her. Scare her. Not...Crap, not this. An unconscious girl was no good to him. How could she fucking do this to him, anyway, when he was so close to getting what he'd wanted?
He paced the room, eyes sliding back to her prone figure. He'd just have to leave her here. With any luck, she'd wake up – and if she didn't? He paused. His fingerprints were all over her. James had seen him go up with her. Jesus, if she died then they'd know he was the last person with her - he shook himself. She wasn't going to die. He was being ridiculous. But...it didn't look good. If he called an ambulance then they'd find out what she'd taken, and then fingers would start being pointed, and they'd want to know what he was doing with her...
Shit, shit, shit.
He needed a plan.
Desperate inspiration struck as he headed for the bathroom, pulling open the medicine cabinets. Zofran, Panadol, Lexapro...nothing strong enough. Unless.
He yanked all the pill bottles down from their places and carried them into the next room, where Blair was still out cold. He had his own stash of pills in his coat pocket; he pulled those out too. An attempted overdose. With her history? It was perfect. He scattered all of them over the floor, all around her. This way meant that she'd get to a hospital and he'd get none of the blame.
Now he just had to get as far away from here as possible. He spared her one last glance - bitch, ruining everything - and then shut the door behind him. He was halfway along the corridor when he heard the clacking heels and familiar voice whining into a cell phone.
"...Completely ruined my night. Blair and Serena are both psychos.."
He managed to duck into a doorway as Penelope passed him, oblivious. He was disappearing into the elevator as he heard her open her door, heard her scream as she discovered the pills and Blair's body.
And then he was gone.
"What do you mean, you don't know where she is?"
Serena made a point of ignoring Chuck's fierce glower. "I mean don't know where she is, Chuck. She stormed off. Probably went home."
Chuck's eyes narrowed. "It's not like her to leave early. And I've been calling – she's not answering."
Serena scowled in response and tried to swallow back the flicker of concern. Or guilt. "Well, maybe she doesn't want to talk to you."
"Then she'd reject my call," Chuck snapped back. "But it just keeps ringing."
"Look, she's not talking to me either-" Serena was cut off by the chimes of her own phone. She frowned when she glanced down and saw Penelope's name. She was sorely tempted to just ignore the call. "Penelope," she sighed when she finally answered. "What-"
And Chuck saw the bored irritation slide right off her face. That sense that had been twinging for the past several moments – that something was wrong – gripped him tight. "What is it?" he demanded.
Serena had gone very pale. "Wh...where is she now? Is she ok?" She? What other she could they be talking about? "We're on our way," Serena choked before she hung up. Even Nate was looking now, brow creased as he reached for his girlfriend's hand.
"What happened?"
"It's Blair." Her voice shook, and her eyes were wide and scared as they landed on Chuck. Chuck suddenly wasn't sure he could breathe. "We need to call Carter."
"Helloo," Tish drawled into Carter's phone. "I'm afraid that Carter is currently otherwise occupied..." She frowned as she was cut off. "Erm, what? Sorry, who is this?" Whoever it was had no manners. "Serena?" She rolled her eyes as she recalled the blonde. Why was she even calling Carter? Had she not got over her little crush? "All right, all right." She arched an eyebrow at the insistent voice on the other end of the line - God, she was so rude. "I'll pass you over."
Carter rolled his own eyes, taking the cell. "Look, van der Woodsen, I told you-"
His voice trailed off.
And then he'd frozen.
It was like hurtling back in time, seeing Carter's ashen face and Serena's wild, frantic blue eyes. Except they weren't on a beach this time. They were in a hospital waiting room and Blair was nowhere in sight. Chuck hadn't dragged her back, and Carter wasn't forcing her to breathe; all they could do was wait. Chuck couldn't stand it. Carter looked seconds from snapping too. He took the coffee from Tish without looking at it, without bothering to drink.
A doctor finally appeared and Carter pounced on him, instant. "Is she all right? Can I see her?"
The doctor raised a calming hand. "Mr. Waldorf?"
"Yes," Carter snarled. "Tell me what's going on."
"Your sister's stable," the doctor informed him, and the pressure around Chuck's chest eased a little. He exhaled. "We had to pump her stomach," the doctor was saying. "We found traces of a number of substances in her blood, and with that level of-"
"Wait, what?" Carter shook his head, stopping the doctor. "Substances? In her blood? What are you talking about?"
The doctor paused a moment as he looked at the young man. He cleared his throat. "Miss Waldorf's roommate claims she found her with some pills - when the ambulance picked her up..."
Carter blinked, uncomprehending. "Pills?" He remembered just that day, Lily asking him if he had a drug problem because Blair -
But that was absurd. She wasn't doing drugs, for God's sake. There had to be some kind of mistake. "My sister doesn't take drugs," he snapped.
The doctor cleared his throat again. "Given the number of pills she was found with...well, all signs point to the overdose being intentional."
Carter froze. No. No way. No, this couldn't be happening. His voice was oddly thick when it finally came out. "You're saying she tried to-"
"As I said," the doctor was firm, reassuring, "She's stable now. She hasn't woken up yet, but I think that when she does, we should look at transferring her to the psychiatric unit. It's procedure in cases like these."
The doctor disappeared and Carter felt sick. She couldn't. Impossible. Why? He couldn't have missed that. Not again. She'd been doing so well at Columbia and her internship, she couldn't possibly -
He remembered a twelve year-old Blair getting As every week, passing her piano exam with honours - and he remembered her body, limp on the beach, and the knowledge that she hadn't been swimming in the sea all holiday. He remembered Serena struggling to make sense of why she'd gone in the first place - and he remembered not being able to ask her himself when she finally came round.
If she'd really just been going for a swim, or, far worse -
He'd never asked her. She'd never told him. There was an odd roaring in his ears now.
Serena was shaking her head desperately at Nate, at Chuck. "That's crazy-"
"Shut up," Carter hissed. The roaring sound wasn't going away as he rounded on the blonde. "What the hell happened at that party tonight?" And then his eyes slanted on Chuck "What the hell did you-"
"Chuck wasn't even there," Serena cut him off. "He had nothing to do with this."
"Then what?" Carter spat back. "Do you want to tell me how my sister ended up alone in her room trying to overdose?"
Serena visibly flinched. "Carter, she wouldn't - that makes no sense-"
"What happened tonight?"
The blonde bit her lip. "I mean, we had a fight - but that doesn't - come on," she pleaded. "You know this is insane. Blair being suicidal?"
"Has she been happy?" Carter demanded. "Sleeping with him," he glowered at Chuck, "Breaking up with him, fighting with you, moving out of the penthouse-"
"Ok," Serena interrupted. "Things have been crazy, but that doesn't mean..."
"You're the one," Carter said suddenly, "Who was telling me this morning that you were losing her. So how would you even know?" The venom in his voice was blind because his brain couldn't process any of it. Had he missed the signs again? All of them? (And he was the one who hadn't spoken to Blair in days, who'd dragged out the bulimia thing, who hadn't noticed her nightmares-)
"Carter," the blonde begged, horrified. "I know Blair."
"Yeah," Carter answered viciously. "Well, did you know her six years ago, when you were so busy flirting with your little volleyball friends-"
"That's not fair." Serena's eyes sparked with tears.
"No. It's true." His gaze was blank and merciless as he regarded her. Except he wasn't really seeing her at all.
"Hey," Nate said firmly. "This is no one's fault-"
But Carter's glance had slid to Chuck. "You've been quiet, Bass." His voice sounded dangerous. "Since when do you have nothing to say?"
Chuck's eyes were dark, almost black. "I think we should wait until she wakes up." It came out flat. Carter was obviously terrified - a fear that had gripped Chuck and made it hard to breathe, still. Because the thought of losing her -
Carter's lips thinned. "I don't want you here when she wakes up."
"Carter," Nate attempted.
"In fact," he went on, ruthlessly, like the blond hadn't even spoken, "I'm pretty sure it's family members only, so..."
Serena's gaze had widened in horror again. And then she put her foot down, suddenly snapping to. Because no way was she leaving. "We are her family." Her blue eyes burned into Carter's. "We're not going anywhere."
Carter ground his teeth and turned away, jaw clenched. But he let it drop. His head felt like it was about to burst in any case; it was too much. All of it.
She still hadn't woken up when they were finally allowed to see her. Carter went first - though Serena was quick to follow, and there was nothing he could do about it. Chuck remained where he was.
Nate glanced at him. "You're not going?"
"It's only two at a time," Chuck reminded him shortly. Nate looked as though he couldn't quite believe Chuck would let that stop him. Chuck didn't move.
Serena re-emerged a while later, pale and subdued.
"How is she?" Nate was quick to ask. Chuck's gaze had zeroed in on her.
"She's...still out." Serena's voice shook a little. Seeing her best friend, unmoving and attached to a drip, had made her feel sick. And it had hit her then, everything that could have happened - if Penelope hadn't come back when she did, if Blair hadn't got to the hospital in time -
She'd been unable to do anything but grip the other girl's hand and try not cry. Carter had been painfully rigid on the edge of his seat next to her. She glanced at Chuck, now. "You can go in."
Chuck didn't move. "Carter won't want me there."
"You know he didn't mean it," Serena answered wearily. "What he said before."
Chuck just shook his head. "Believe me," his promise was dry, "He won't want me there."
Serena rolled her eyes a little. "Since when has that stopped you?" She nodded. "Go on."
Chuck could feel his body stiffening, his legs refusing to move. "She's asleep." His tone was brusque. "What's the point?"
Serena and Nate both stared at him, stupidly, for a moment. "Are you serious?" Serena asked at last. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of disbelief and shock. And he didn't reply. "Chuck." She stared. "She just overdosed, and you don't even want to-"
"Going to sit with her won't change anything," he said very coldly. "Except piss off Carter."
"You have never cared what Carter thought," Serena pointed out in incredulity. "Why don't you want to see her?"
And at that, Chuck lurched to his feet. He couldn't take it any more. "I told you there's no point." It came out a quiet hiss as he jerked away from them, stomach roiling, and disappeared down the corridor. Serena and Nate could only gaze helplessly after him.
When Blair woke up she had no idea where she was. Her stomach hurt and her throat was raw, and the room, already in darkness, blurred as she tried to sit up. What the hell had happened? For a moment fear gripped her - alone in a dark room, unable to move - until her eyes landed on a figure slumped in a chair. A figure she knew.
"Carter," she attempted. Her voice was painfully hoarse. "Carter," she tried again, struggling to raise her head. She was scared and she didn't know what was going on, and she wanted her big brother.
Carter's eyes finally snapped open, head jolting up. "Blair?" He was at her side in seconds. "You're awake." He leaned over her. "How are you feeling?"
Her hand somehow found his, reaching for his arm and then locking on his fingers. She didn't understand why her own fingers felt so useless. "Not great," she croaked. "What...happened?"
Carter regarded her; and then the eye contact was broken. "You had your stomach pumped," he muttered. "I need to call the nurse. She said when you woke up-"
Blair's grip tightened, instinctive, before he could go anywhere. "But what happened?"
There was a silence. "I don't know," Carter said at last. "I was hoping you could tell me."
Blair frowned, struggling to remember - the Columbia event, Penelope and Serena and Nate, Serena thinking she was jealous, the champagne that had ruined her dress -
"I don't know." She hesitated. "I don't...remember." How could she not remember?
Carter had already called the nurse, and was reaching for a glass of water for her. "It doesn't matter. You're fine now." But he still wasn't quite looking at her, and there was a strange light that burned under his gaze.
So Blair refused to let go of his hand. "I don't understand," she said tightly. "Why did I have my stomach pumped?"
"We don't need to talk about this now." Her brother's tone was abrupt. He reached for the water again, but Blair pushed it away.
"Carter."
And finally, he looked at her. "Penelope found you," he murmured. "In your room. With pills."
Blair blinked in confusion. What? "What pills?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus, I don't know. All the pills in your medicine cabinet."
And she could only stare. "What are you talking about?"
Carter searched her face. "You really don't remember?" He didn't believe her, she realised. Not for a second. Or...he couldn't believe her. There was something desperate in his features, something she didn't understand.
"I don't...I didn't take any pills." She was sure of it. Wasn't she? But she didn't remember going to her room, either. And she must have done if that was where Penelope had found her. She remembered a headache and the wind and a brick wall; and Chuck. She remembered trying to call Chuck. Had she spoken to him? And then why would she have taken that many pills, unless -
Cold realisation dawned. Her gaze snapped to her brother. No. "Carter." She stared at him. "You...you don't actually think I did this deliberately, do you?"
She waited for him to tell her she was being crazy. That of course he didn't think that. How could he?
"I think you need to rest."
She lost the ability to speak for a second. No. He couldn't. "You think I tried to kill myself?" Her voice was still raw, rising with disbelief. "Are you serious?"
And at that, Carter's gaze snapped to hers. "What the hell am I supposed to think? You overdosed, Blair. You're telling me you accidentally took that many pills? What, you had a headache?"
It stuck dangerously in her throat. "So I've gone from bulimic to suicidal in less than a month?"
His nostrils flared. "I don't know," he ground out. "I have no idea. You're the one waking up in ICU." Blair's breath caught, harsh, and she saw regret flicker immediately across his features. He exhaled. "I'm sorry," he grit. "I didn't...I'm just glad you're ok. That's all that matters."
Her hand was still caught in his. She swallowed. She was going to say something else but the nurse came in, all bright smiles. "Blair. Good to see you awake." And then Carter was forced to move away as the woman fussed around her, taking her blood pressure and temperature, checking her drip and working her way through a list of questions. Blair was aware of how weary and flat she sounded as she answered.
She still didn't understand what the hell had happened.
"So." She was propped on pillows as the nurse finished up, though all she really wanted to do was sleep. "When can I get out of here?"
And she saw Carter flicker, just out of the corner of her eye. The nurse smiled again. "Well, just as soon as one of the doctors from our psychiatric unit has given you the all-clear-"
Blair stiffened. "What?"
The nurse paused, smile faltering a little at the girl's expression. "It's just routine-"
"Routine for what?" Blair demanded. Her voice was cold with anger as the woman hesitated again. "Routine for what?"
"Given the circumstances," she tried, valiantly, "It's-"
"What?" Blair arched an eyebrow, hands clenched on the white sheet. "You can't keep me here against my will. And you can't force me to speak to a shrink if I don't want to. Even a criminal gets a lawyer-"
"Blair." Carter rolled his eyes. Trust his sister to start an argument from her hospital bed. She'd probably win, too, if he let her carry on. (But then she always did protest most fiercely when she was in denial, an uneasy voice taunted him). He nodded for the nurse to leave.
And then Blair turned her glare on him. "I'm not waiting to talk to a psychiatrist. I don't need one."
"It's not up to me," Carter muttered back.
She watched him for a moment. "I didn't try to kill myself, Carter."
"It's not up to me," was all he repeated. She could see the doubt and the fear under his impassive expression. "You should get some sleep."
He turned away like that closed the discussion. Her fingers were still gripped round the sheets as she allowed her eyes to close, still furious and still thrown, still unable to work it out. And exhausted, above everything else.
But she was not suicidal.
Dawn was just starting to streak through the hospital window, and Carter was so stiff and uncomfortable in the damn chair that he needed to stretch his legs. He was hoping he'd be able to grab a coffee from somewhere. Blair was still sleeping soundly - from the looks of things, too tired to even dream. She looked too pale and too still in the large hospital bed. He didn't like it. Well, he didn't like any of this. The night had passed in one surreal blur, and he didn't know what to make of any of it. He checked his phone to find a text from Tish (don't worry darling, provisions will be brought tomorrow - don't even think about touching that awful hospital food!) that made him smirk for a second.
But then he rounded the corner and came to a stop. Because Chuck Bass was sitting in the corridor, slumped in the chairs just outside of Blair's room. Out of sight. Chuck Bass. Slowly, the two boys took each other in. What the hell was he doing here? Serena and Nate had gone home hours ago, promising to return in the morning, and they'd told him that Chuck had disappeared. Not that Carter had been surprised.
They were both silent.
"She's awake?" Chuck's voice was broken when he finally spoke, low in the deserted corridor.
Carter watched him. He should, by all rights, be telling Chuck to get lost. To stay away from his sister. Instead, he nodded. Once. He walked away without another word.
Fucking Chuck Bass.
"B."
Serena paused in the doorway for only a second; and then she was practically on the bed, wrapping her arms around the brunette and squeezing her tight.
"I'm so glad you're ok," she breathed into her hair, and tears threatened again. "I'm so sorry."
Blair hugged her back. Her own eyes were stinging, she realised as she sniffed. What was wrong with her? (What was wrong with her was that she'd missed this). "I'm sorry too," she mumbled.
Nate heaved a visible sigh of relief. He took his own seat at Blair's side and gave her a little nudge once the girls had finally separated. She smiled back at him, wryly.
Tish had dragged Carter off - to get a decent cup of tea, apparently - so it was just the three of them in the room. Three, Blair tried not to flinch. She couldn't bring herself to ask where he was. (And maybe it was a good thing. Maybe it was a mercy that he didn't see her brought this low, in a hospital bed-)
"So..." Serena cleared her throat. Nate shot her a warning look, but she only pulled a face back at him and worried her lip. "B...what happened last night?"
Blair looked at her best friend. And she suddenly realised that she didn't think she could take it if Serena thought, just like Carter -
"I don't know."
The blonde hesitated. "Look, the doctors and Carter have this crazy idea that - well, I know it's not true. I know it's not."
Blair blinked at her in pure surprise. "You do?"
And at that, Serena gripped her hand. "Of course I do. You're Blair Waldorf. You're not-" she paused and gulped. "I know you, B. And I'm never going to doubt you again, ok?"
Now Blair's eyes were really stinging. (Whatever medication they'd given her was clearly making her over-emotional). It took her a moment just to get the words out. "Thank you, S." It was almost a whisper.
Serena gave her a watery smile as their hands stayed linked.
"So," Nate cautioned after a bit. "What exactly did happen, then?"
Blair just shook her head. "I don't know. I don't remember." It was all she'd been saying since she'd woken up - and she didn't see how it was even possible. How could she have blanked it all out?
The blondes exchanged a glance. "What was the last thing you do remember?"
"After Penelope spilled her champagne over me," Blair frowned. She'd been running it through her own head, over and over. "I went outside because I wanted to go home. I had a headache. And then," her voice wavered for a second, "I...called Chuck." She remembered that. She'd wanted to see Chuck. She'd wanted to talk to him. (She still wanted to see him. She still wanted to talk to him. She wanted him).
"Chuck?" Serena echoed. Her brow had wrinkled. "He said he kept trying to call you."
"Yeah," Blair murmured. "I must've dropped my phone."
And then something trickled through her memory - the cell slipping through her fingers, an arm steadying her -
She shook her head to try and clear it. "I don't understand how I could forget."
"So you don't remember going back to your dorm? At all?" Serena looked worried as Blair shook her head again. "And the pills-"
"No. Nothing."
Nate had opened his mouth to say something else when the nurse bustled back in. Blair fixed the irritating woman with a glower of contempt. Well, she'd known last night that they weren't going to be friends. The nurse was happy to ignore the expression on her face as she proceeded to take her temperature. "Good news," she chirped while she worked. "Dr. Newman should be able to fit you in after lunch."
Blair continued to glower. "I'm sorry," she responded, acidic. "Is that supposed to make me excited?" Dr. Newman was the goddamn psychiatrist.
The nurse's smile stayed in place. "Well, the sooner you get seen, the sooner you can leave. Provided," she added under her breath, "Dr. Newman thinks you're in a fit state." It was clear that the nurse herself no longer did.
Blair's smile back was pleasant. "You'd better hope that he does."
The threat was unmistakeable as the woman scurried out and Serena repressed a grin, half amused and half exasperated. Blair caught both she and Nate looking at her and raised a haughty brow.
"What?"
Serena just closed her mouth, shaking her head. "I love you, B."
Dr. Newman was a pudgy, balding man with thick glasses and a scrunched up nose. Blair had disliked him on sight. He was talking to Carter now, outside of her room - she could see them through the window. It set her teeth on edge. She was nineteen, for Christ's sake. Did she not get a say in what happened to her?
To say that his questions hadn't gone well would be an understatement. His nodding and soothing tone would have driven her crazy if nothing else, but he'd kept on and on about how she'd been feeling that night, as if claiming not to remember was some kind of elaborate denial. She'd finally snapped; so he'd written something in his notebook and told her he was finished.
Whatever they'd given her was still making her tired, though she was far more tired from being cooped up in bed. Serena and Nate had been the highlight of her day - but they'd eventually had to leave, and now she was back to feeling overwhelmed and sore and cranky and powerless. Why didn't they believe her?
Why couldn't she just remember and tell them once and for all what had happened?
Outside, Carter was having a hard time swallowing what the doctor was telling him. Because they wanted to keep her in the hospital. In the psychiatric unit.
Apparently she'd shown signs of hostility and aggression throughout the consult. Well, Carter thought grimly, she'd show a lot more than that when he went back in and told her she couldn't leave. He glanced through the window now, as Dr. Newman left. She was upright against the pillows, arms folded and dark rings under her eyes. She looked drained.
The only time he'd seen her smile today had been with Serena and Nate. And Tish, when she'd produced a box of macaroons. Serena had started on a trail of excuses about Chuck, and Carter had seen the shadow cross her face before she forced it away. Of course. Because she wouldn't let anyone know that she missed or wanted him. (Carter had no intention of telling them he had, in fact, been there the whole time - if he was too much of a coward to come in, then that was his problem). He also had no idea why she would miss the bastard.
He had no idea what had happened last night - and, really, he had no idea what had been going on for the past few weeks. He was pretty sure Chuck and Blair hadn't even been speaking. Except that Chuck had been the one to tell them about his mother and those boxes of food...and for a moment, Carter considered the notion that Evelyn was somehow behind all of this. But it was impossible. What could she have done, force-fed his sister pills?
Was he just looking for excuses, he wondered?
Blair still was adamant she hadn't done anything. But what other explanation was there?
He glanced through the window one more time. What was he supposed to do? He wanted his parents, he realised. He wanted Eleanor's shrewd judgement and Harold's calm observation. His parents would have known what to do. They would have taken charge.
But they weren't here. It was up to him. He exhaled. He should probably look for some kind of protection before he headed back into his sister's room, as there were bound to be objects thrown once he told her.
It was dark and the covers were stifling her, trapping her in place. She knew that something bad was happening just on the other side of the door. Voices and awful flickering red lights, a sense of dread that crept closer and closer. She needed to move. She needed to get out. But her legs were frozen. She tried to kick them and they didn't respond. Fear gripped her, climbing up her throat as the voices buzzed closer and closer, and she tried to scream but nothing came out. She was defenceless. Useless and weak, and she couldn't do anything but she knew that once it reached her, once that door opened -
Blair woke up doused in cold sweat, heart hammering. A whimper escaped from her throat. She was alone in a dark room, the covers stifling her and her legs strangely weak and stiff, a flickering light somewhere that made her hands fist on the sheets in terror. But she wasn't dreaming. She was awake.
She sucked in a breath. She was awake. She was in hospital. Her eyes slid to the chair – it was empty. Of course it was. She'd finally managed to convince Carter to go home because he hadn't showered and was in danger crimping his neck permanently in that chair. Alone. She was alone.
Her heart gradually returned to its normal pace, though her vision was still blurry with tears that she loathed. Because this time, awake, she really was trapped and helpless in bed. She was exhausted and disorientated and sick of the lemon smell of disinfectant. She wanted to go home. She closed her eyes, tight, as her head pressed back against the pillow. She had a futile urge to scream but she was too tired. Her eyes ached from crying in her sleep - because even now the damn nightmares wouldn't leave her alone. She kept her eyes shut, knowing damn well that sleep wouldn't come again, nails still pressed into the stiff fabric of her bedcovers. She couldn't take another night here. She couldn't.
She felt the presence before she heard it. The back of her neck was prickling as her eyes snapped open; she strained to see in the darkened room.
And her breath caught, uneven.
Chuck was standing in the doorway.
He looked a state. His face was paper white, even in the dim light, eyes ringed like he hadn't slept in days. His suit was wrinkled and his hair unkept. And his gaze burned through the dark, straight into her.
"Chuck." His name stuck in her throat and it nearly broke. Her head was clearly still woozy - because for a moment she wasn't even sure that he was real. Her chest hurt. He was too close, his presence overwhelming her; and too far away, at the door when she could hardly move out of her bed.
And he just stood there, watching her. His breathing was rough. When he finally spoke his voice was very low. "Did you do it?"
Blair stared at him numbly. He was asking her. He was asking her, like he thought she had. Like it was a question. She could handle the therapist thinking she had. She could handle Carter thinking she had. But not him. Not Chuck. Never Chuck. She needed him to believe her. She needed him – she needed him not to even need to ask.
So she said nothing. She pressed her lips together and said nothing, fingers suddenly impossibly tight around the sheets. Her whole body ached.
Chuck looked at her for a second longer, gaze still burning, and then he turned on his heel and walked out. She heard his footsteps echo down the corridor as she lay in her bed.
And she'd had enough.
She'd had enough.
She dragged the thin covers off her, heart suddenly pounding as she swung her legs down from the mattress. Her limbs were weak and shaky from lying down for so long, the ground cold beneath her bare feet. And each step hurt, her pace unsteady and her breathing uneven. But she grit her teeth and carried on – and as she struggled out of her room she could see him, see him move away from her along the corridor, each step so fast and so easy compared to her own.
She called his name.
She saw him freeze. His whole back was rigid as he turned, slowly. And then he was suddenly heading back to her, strides twice the size of hers. He grabbed her arm, and she could see the hard fear in his eyes and the set of his jaw. She could see another emotion that she didn't understand, but she didn't care.
"What are you doing?" he demanded. Why the hell had she got out of bed? He could feel her tremble in his grip. She looked impossibly small in her white hospital gown, and he could see the bruises from that godawful drip, shading the wrist that he held.
But her eyes were fierce and dark as she glared up at him. "What are you doing?" she snapped back. "Why did you even bother coming to see me, Chuck?"
Silence while his eyes searched her. And then his face shuttered. "I don't know," he bit. He released her and started to turn away.
And she felt her blood boil. "Fine," she hissed after him. "Run away again." She shook her head as she curled her arms around herself, tight. "You're a coward," she told him, and it echoed in the empty corridor. He'd stopped. "You're scared. Of me." It was spilling out now, hot and furious. "I waited." That summer. "I waited for you the first time I got back from boarding school, because I was stupid enough to think you'd want to see me too. But you were a coward then, and you're a coward now. You can't even look at me."
He could ignore her, mock her, hate her – but pity? No. She was Blair Waldorf, and Chuck Bass would not pity her. She could see anger etched into his features now, and she was glad. He reeled on her, and his eyes were so black that anyone else might have flinched. She stayed exactly where she was.
"Scared of you?" he snarled. He was seconds from her face now, so close that she could breathe him in, so close that she could see the exhaustion written all over him. "You really think," he said quietly, "That I wanted to see you that summer? You really think I wanted to spend every day pretending everything was fine, when I knew that after a few weeks you'd be gone again? You really think I could have seen you every day and not told you going away was wrong? Not told you that I wanted you to stay?"
Staying away from her that summer had easily been the least selfish thing he'd ever done. He wouldn't have been able to lie. Not to her. Hell, he'd have schemed all summer just to stop her from leaving. Not seeing her at all had been the only solution.
She stared at him, arms still wrapped around her body. Uncomprehending. "But that's what I wanted," she murmured at last. Her voice, now, was drained. "I wanted someone to tell me to stay."
She'd wanted Carter to stop smirking and telling her how dull things had been at home, Serena to stop hugging her and asking her about how amazing Canterbury was – she wanted someone to stop smiling and admit that they'd made a mistake. That they needed her in New York. That she belonged in New York, that she belonged with them.
And Chuck was suddenly reminded of a twelve year old girl shaking in a limo, of a single tear and a small voice admitting that she didn't want to go. He'd told himself that Carter was her brother and he knew better, that they were right and she needed to get out – that it wasn't up to him, because what did he know about making people happy?
I don't want to go.
She was tired. So tired.
Tired of the hospital, tired of feeling weak, of no one believing her - tired of wanting Chuck. She slumped against the wall, sliding down till she was on the floor. And she folded her knees into herself and closed her eyes.
There was a moment's silence before Chuck spoke. "I'm not scared of you." She gazed up at him. Slowly, he crouched down next to her. Till he was sitting at her side on the hospital ground. He didn't look at her. "I'm scared of...me." It was barely audible. Because he was terrified. Terrified he'd hurt her, terrified he'd make her miserable. He'd been terrified he didn't know how to love. "It's my fault," he croaked. "That this happened."
Blair's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
He just shook his head. "Evelyn-"
She bit her lip as realisation dawned. (He didn't think it was her? It hadn't even occurred to him that-) And then she swallowed, angrily. "Chuck. Whether or not your mother was involved in this...it has nothing to do with you. You're not responsible for her actions."
He gave her a look, and she finally snapped.
"You don't think I can stand up to Evelyn myself? You don't think there are women all over the Upper East Side with their sights set on Waldorf Designs?"
"None like her," Chuck ground back.
"So?" she demanded. "You don't think I can take her?"
His mouth twitched, bitter. "I know you can."
She was a mess, tired and weaker than she'd ever felt, curled on a linoleum floor – and still his voice was ringed in admiration, in the simple, unshakeable knowledge that she was strong. He'd seen her at her weakest and dirtiest - and he was on the floor with her. Her eyes moved over his ruffled hair and the sharp line of his pale cheeks. He was a mess too.
"I don't want you," she murmured, "To be sweet. Or selfless." His gaze was dark as it rested on her; but there was no pity. They were incapable of pity. Chuck knew her. He knew the darkest parts of her. She knew the darkest parts of him, and she loved him for them. She loved every part of him. Her voice was tight, her hands still curled around her knees. "I just want you."
His eyes, always so slanted and so sharp, were black and wide in the dim light as he stared at her. She watched him back, head pressed against the wall in her exhaustion. The floor was cold underneath the thin hospital gown; and his arm slid under her, warm, as he pulled her to her feet. He lifted her up and she allowed her face to sink into his much softer chest. His shirt was creased under her cheek – and she inhaled him, eyes closing, as he carried her back down the corridor.
It wasn't until they were both curled on the narrow mattress of her bed – Chuck still fully dressed, his knees pressed into the backs of hers and his chin hard against her shoulder – that she realised just how tightly she was gripping the back of his hand, her nails embedded in his knuckles. Chuck said nothing. She didn't let go.
"Carter thinks I tried to kill myself," she murmured into the darkness. Her eyes had shut again, feeling the thump of his heart. She could feel sleep finally sneaking up on her as she lay tight against him. "I don't...how did you know I didn't?"
She felt his breathing on her neck. Because I know you, he wanted to say – because it was that simple. "I saw you," he muttered instead. Her rib cage rose and fell under his hand. "That day. In the sea." Carter hadn't known what to think – Carter had feared the worst – and Blair hadn't been able to answer him. No wonder Carter didn't know what to think now. But Chuck had seen her. He'd seen her try to swim against the tide, and he'd felt her kick out when he'd finally caught her. "You were fighting, Waldorf."
He'd seen her?
Blair paused. She'd always assumed that Carter had been the one to pull her out. But she could feel the tightness of Chuck's grip now, the heat of his breath – and she wondered how she could ever not have known. Chuck had pulled her out. Chuck had seen her fighting. Chuck knew. She shifted her head back, against the solid heat of his chest, and her nails were still sharp against his skin as she finally slipped out of consciousness.
He'd been here long enough now to decide that he hated the smell of hospitals; the sour stink of disinfectant and sickness. He buried his nose in the sweet scent of her skin, her hair, finally exhaling. I just want you. He was close enough to count each eyelash, and he remembered holding her as she slept another night – the first night they'd slept together – remembered the tight feeling in his chest that still hadn't gone away.
He whispered it into the darkness, against the shell of her ear as his own eyes closed.
"I love you."