Title: Love Story

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own Titanic, Gossip Girl or any of its characters.

A/N Yay! I quick update! Reviews motivate me to update quicker! And I was so excited with all of the reviews, that I stayed up extra late and finished this chapter for all of my awesome readers and reviewers! Thank you so much! And please send me any suggestions you have for the story! Love you all lots! Enjoy!

Chapter 4

Blair sat on a bench in the sun as the Titanic's wake spread out behind her to the horizon. She had her knees pulled up, supporting a leather bound sketching pad. Her friend, Vanessa, had met a man who claimed to be an aspiring artist. Flipping through the pages of his sketch pad, Blair was mesmerized by his magnificent drawings, mostly of woman from Paris. They were heartbreaking.

"Mister Daniel, these are incredible," Blair praised handing him back his pad.

"Thank you Miss," Dan smiled extensively while adjusting his flat cap over his black curls.

"Nah…Paris is overrated my dear. And so are those prostitutes," Vanessa smirked sitting next to Dan. "How 'bout ya sketch some real women? Say how 'bout these two pretty gals right in front of you?" Vanessa gestured to Blair and herself causing Blair to jump off the bench.

"Yes! Oh, yes," Blair cried as she hauled up Vanessa.

"Would be my pleasure," Dan laughed, taking a quick drag from his cigarette before tossing it aside. With a conté crayon, he rapidly began to draw the two women using sure strokes. Blair and Vanessa struggled to keep still for Dan as they giggled and leaned over the rail, trying out several poses for the sketch. The wind blew into their faces causing their hair to fall into their eyes.

Blair cocked her head to the side, with one hand on her hip and grinned dramatically, exposing the dimple in her left cheek.

"How's this?" she called out.

"Perfect, hold still ladies," Dan replied while shifting his gaze quickly between the two girls and his sketch pad. Blair tried not to move even with her curls falling onto her face, irritating her.

"Where's a barrette or headband when you need one?" Blair called out flustered by her hair whilst glancing across the wall deck.

Suddenly, she was distracted by a man standing at the railing of B deck promenade. He was definitely first class with his perfectly tussled hair and his crisp three-piece suit consisting of a sack coat with a matching waistcoat. He held his top hat in his hand and was repeatedly glancing at his pocket watch with an intense gaze. Abruptly, he tossed the watch into the water, much to Blair's surprise. He looked angry and confused and absolutely alluring. Blair was unable to take her eyes off him, and was rapidly unaware of Dan and Vanessa. This stranger had entirely consumed her thoughts.

Unexpectedly, the stranger averted his gaze from the ocean; he looked straight into her eyes as if he sensed her watching him. Blair blushed furiously and tried to turn away her eyes, but it was too late, the man had already caught her staring shamelessly at him. They were across from one another, about sixty feet apart, with the deck valley between them; he on his promontory one, and she on her much lower one. Their eyes met across the space of the wall deck, across the gulf between worlds. She was riveted by him. He looked like a figure from a romance novel, sad and isolated.

Vanessa noticed Blair's distant attention and followed her gaze to a man who stared back at Blair with equal intensity. The two were locked in some sort of a daze. Vanessa chuckled and caught Dan's attention, pointing to her mesmerized friend. The two of them laughed, and Dan proceeded to sketch Blair in her captivated state.

The stranger suddenly broke out of his trance and looked away from Blair towards an approaching blonde woman. The stunning woman came up behind him and took his arm. Blair felt a pang of jealously, even though she had no idea who these people were. The stranger jerked his arm away and began to argue with the woman. Blair watched intently as the man stormed away, disappearing along the A deck promenade as the woman ran after him.

"Let it go, Blair. Upper class men are so proud and rude. They're nothing but jerks that live off their inheritance and hold a façade of class," Vanessa lectured, patting Blair's head. "But don't worry gal, I'm here to teach you the ways of romance." Vanessa winked and Blair grinned back with a chuckle.

"Very well, my darling," Blair beamed while retreating back to her pose for Dan. However, despite her front of interest for the drawing, she could not get her mind off her devilishly handsome stranger.

Chuck sat in the first class dining saloon that night, flanked by people in a heated conversation. Serena and Lily were laughing animatedly together, while on the other side of the table, Nate enjoyed a conversation with a woman Chuck did not recognize. Lately, Chuck was constantly finding himself in this position. People would talk and enjoy themselves, while Chuck sat at the table, staring at his plate, barely listening to the inconsequential babble around him.

Chuck saw his whole life as if he had already lived it. An endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches. Always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. He felt like he was standing at a great precipice, with no one to pull him back, no one who cared – or even noticed. Yet his mind crept back to that afternoon on the deck. The innocent eyes, pouty lips, and luscious curls; he could not get that girl out of his head. But it was wrong. She was clearly lower class, someone Chuck would wrinkle his nose at. Nevertheless, she was the single most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon.

Chuck unconsciously smiled before composing his face into the dark, hard mask he had mastered. He had to be ruthless and terrifying, so then no one would get close enough to really know his vulnerable side. Finishing off his fourth glass of scotch – or fifth, Chuck grabbed a new bottle and slipped out of the dining saloon before anyone noticed him.

Chuck staggered across the B deck promenade with a nearly empty bottle of scotch in his hand. His hair was disheveled and he had lost his top hat along with his overcoat. He was angry, furious; however, in spite of that, he sang quietly to himself swaying back and forth. Inside, he was shaking with emotions he did not understand – hatred, self-hatred, desperation. Chuck reached the deserted fantail and stumbled towards the rail, looking down at the black water in the night.

"Farewell," Chuck sang in his drunken state as he took a large swig from the bottle. "Farewell." The bottle slipped out of his hand, disappearing down into the violent, black ocean. "Oops," Chuck whispered, suddenly fascinated by the aggressiveness of the waves. He lifted his foot onto the railing, higher and higher, reaching the top bar. Sixty feet below him, the massive propellers were churning the Atlantic into white foam, and a ghostly wake trailed off toward the horizon. Below him were the huge letters of the name "Titanic". Holding onto the stern flagpole, he leaned out towards the water, looking down hypnotized, into the vortex below. The only sound, above the rush of the water below, was the flutter and snap of the big Union Jack right above him. His breathe hitched and he raised his foot to step off the railing – off Titanic.

Swiftly a soft hand wrapped around his, halting Chuck from any movement; he slowly turned around expecting to find Serena. Instead of ice blue eyes, he met a familiar pair of warm, brown ones. It was the same girl from the deck earlier; the same girl who Chuck could not help but think about afterwards. She looked frazzled, yet determined.

"Don't do it."

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