A/N: Props to kate2008, legit a really amazing beta (: And also, I just have to say, you reviewers/readers are so freakin' amazing .. ! I hope you continue to read this story and review it (if you can) because your feedback is seriously beyond great. Anyway, enough of my blabbering, happy reading.
I'm always where I need to be
I always thought I'd end up with you eventually.
Say whatever comes naturally,
Oh I hope it doesn't hurt
But I still don't care
Because i'm always where I need to be
-- The kooks
Chapter Fourteen:
Days passed in neat rows of distraction, sewn together by obligation, hours that pushed Blair towards exhaustion with sticky fingers. Mark's arrival had been postponed for another two days by Wednesday of the following week as she had begrudgingly expected of Chuck. In the meantime, she was looping ribbons of dishonesty as tightly as she could manage, solely occupied with the thought of holding everything together that she didn't notice the pieces slipping out of her hands.
Grey clouds were spreading across the Manhattan skyline as she ushered the kids into the entryway, watching them disappear up the stairs. She stood there for a moment, feeling the cold air that sat around her, before moving into the kitchen. In Mark's absence she had been trying to maintain a routine, as hollow as it had to be, even if it meant sitting in mid-afternoon traffic for hours on end every day.
Conversations between them were few and far between, thinly spread under blankets of avoidance. His voice melted through the phone lines, weaving around her body, making her the liar that she was, every word itself became heavy and complicated. At night she laid alone in their bed, silent tears dripping towards her chin and caressed by listless sleep she dreamt in pearly film, of the days when she had been so connected to Chuck Bass that they had believed their relationship could last forever. It was a barrage of whimsical laugher, brunette curls and argyle socks.
They were fragments of the people they had been, mere patches of dried up romance that had never pursued reality well. She had only done what she could do.
Blair lingered around the phone, drifting towards the fridge, anxiety bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Whenever she had time to think, she wondered when Mark would call, how long Chuck could continue to keep her husband away from her and how she would explain it to her children, her own mistakes made into an excuse.
Chuck Bass, the man who was creating this, holding it up, needing her to be the woman she no longer was. The stress of a secret revealed had caused her to be some variation of drunk every time she'd seen him. She had learned that his presence was forceful and it was difficult to be next to him, breathing the same air as he and still glue together formulated lies that moved towards the space between them. Always so little space. He remained a smudged figure in her thoughts, the careful lines of his face, the deep colour of his eyes only vivid in her dreams.
She was trying to keep everything separated, as far away from what he wanted to know as she could get. There was only what she would give him, when he truly deserved all of the truth and nothing less of it. Not a minute had passed where she didn't recognize this, but she had too much to loose. It was as simple as that and yet the most intimate use of secrecy she had ever knitted into existance.
Christmas Eve 2011.
The frigid winds of December carried with them the scent of freshly ground peppermint. The weatherman's' promise of warmer days was dripping into the storm drains, just like the banks of snow lining the streets.
Christmas was Blair's favourite holiday for reasons that stirred in the air like glitter thrown into the night sky. Perhaps it was the admiration for the season that had brought her where she was now, eyes narrowed at the fine print in a new cookbook, poised over the stove. An apron, spotted with flour and breadcrumbs, slung around her petite waste.
"I went to Saks earlier," Serena sighed, "and like, I must have spent four hours looking at different scarves."
"Exciting?" Blair asked, shifting the phone between her neck and shoulder blade, chopping vegetables with a knife. She fumbled with the freshly rinsed carrots on the cutting board.
"Hardly," Serena groaned. "Halfway through and correct me if I'm wrong, but like, a scarf doesn't say 'I love you' does it? It says ... 'hey, I really like you, here's some coloured wool."
"S, you're over thinking this." Blair turned away from the stove, wiping at her apron with her hands. "Nate's laid back he'll think it's sweet if you just buy him a card."
"A card? But that's so simple."
"I don't know then," Blair barked. Her head suddenly throbbing.
There was a beat of silence. "Whoa B, no need to get bitchy."
Her stomach lurched and she reached up to rub at her temples, distracted. "I'm going to throw up," She grumbled, dropping the phone onto the counter and sprinting to the bathroom.
When the scarce contents of her lunch had been emptied into the toilet Blair leaned against the bowl, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The stomach flu on Christmas? Check. She washed her hands and lugged her exhausted body back to the kitchen, avoiding the wall of boxes that surrounded her. The smell of burnt chicken lingered in the air.
Minutes later dinner sat on a pot warmer in the middle of the dinning room table. The instant gravy Blair had painstakingly added the correct amount of water to, solid goo on the bottom of the pan. She pushed back her hair, curving her body into a question mark, her head in her hands.
Why had she attempted to cook for the first time on a day that was so reliant on the nature of festive and fabulous dinners? Because she was an idiot.
When she finally remembered about Serena, waiting on the phone, she was struggling to keep herself from over-reacting.
"B, are you okay?"
Blair's ragged breath was loud static between them. "I have the stomach flu," She explained, "Tess gave it to me and I feel absolutely disgusting." She cringed at her own words, the taste in her mouth, the idea of being sick during her most cherished holiday.
"Oh --"
Blair cut her off, "And everything is fine. If you don't count the fact that I burnt dinner to a crisp." She bit the last word out in jagged sarcasm, "Literally."
"Isn't it just you and Chuck this year?"
"He's coming home from Tokyo tonight S, and I --" Blair tugged at loose strands of her hair "I just wanted everything to be perfect. I look like Frankenstein, I'm still not dressed and my main attraction is no longer edible. Plus, because I'm so fabulous, I haven't even unpacked one thing since we moved in."
Serena spoke gently, recognizing the hysterical twinge in her best friends voice, "its Chuck. He won't care about anything but being with you. Besides, you just moved into the new place like four days ago, a mess is expected."
"Not if I throw up in his mouth," She countered, brow furrowed. "And it looks like a war-zone in here. I can't stand it!"
"You know, you don't have to run around trying to do everything."
"But we haven't seen each other in a week," She said, sounding rather defeated. The idea itself was upsetting. Blair felt guilt edge around her stomach, trying to salvage what common sense she did posses, she continued with: "And S? I think you should get Nate a cashmere sweater, maybe light blue. It would set his eyes off nicely and I'm pretty sure he doesn't own one."
Serena squealed in delight, the outburst completely forgotten. "You. Are. A. Genius! What would I do without you?!" Clearly, having had the experience of Nate Archibald and his stoner, slacking ways was every match of perfection for a best friend who had just started to make-out with him in expensive restaurants and dark corners.
Blair laughed, "I have no idea. Anyway, I have to go and get a hold of a caterer now, I'll call you later?"
"You better," Serena whined, "But if you can't find someone, Lily and CeCe managed this huge feast, I mean it's literally mondo and it looks super good. I know everyone would love to see the two of you."
"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind."
"And B?" Serena added, almost as an afterthought, "Just breathe, it'll all be fine, I promise."
Blair hung up the phone, feeling a little lighter as she stuffed all the vegetables she'd chopped into Ziplocs, depositing them in the fridge. She edged towards the bedroom, trying to remind herself that none of it would matter once she saw Chuck. Not even the botched cordon bleu she'd slaved over all day.
The light that filtered in through the half-closed blinds illuminated the specs of dust floating around the room. Abby sat on one end of the table, eyes narrowed, and arms extended across the empty table between them.
The lawyers were speaking terms, pieces of their conversation floating under the door, weighed down. Not a word had been spoken. What could be said?
"You know," She said finally, "I don't get why we're doing this so legally. We both know that you'll change your mind in a couple of days Chuckie."
"I won't," He growled, "This is final, completely and totally."
Abigail leaned into the back of her chair, examining her fingernails. "If you say so."
He sighed, his eyes falling on the bookcase not two feet away from him. Months back, the humid air of summer, drunken fights, divorce papers ... pleading for her to stay with him. It all seemed so surreal now, he hadn't known then what he was doing, why he was doing it. He had every reason now, solid movements to make, he wouldn't watch all of it fall to the ground because of her.
The door creaked open and the attorneys appeared. There was nothing to fight for. The iron-clad agreement stood up in any millionth of the ways someone could attempt to tear it down. It was impossible at best. As indestructible as seventeen copies of the same pieces of paper neatly photo copied and stapled could be.
If Chuck had learned anything it was how best to maintain paperwork.
"Well?" Abby asked, hopeful. She probably thought that she was entitled to something, two years of marriage, six months of dating. It was forever to someone like her.
"Well," Her attorney drawled, typically as fat and balding as they could get, "You have until 8pm tonight to get all of your things out of the houses both you and Mr. Bass share."
He watched her, blue eyes wide, she opened her mouth but was quickly cut off.
Chuck's lawyer spoke now. "There are a few minor concessions to the prenup of course. You're to keep everything you went into the marriage with and all the jewlery my client has bought for you over the past two years."
She was looking at Chuck now, daggers in her breath, barely registering anything else. "My diamonds, that's all?" She yelled, blushing with fury. "I couldn't possibly, as the wife of one of the most powerful men in New York, be leaving this marriage with just my fucking belongings and a few tiffany boxes."
He leaned across the table, his voice smooth, teasing almost.
"Diamonds are forever, aren't they Abby?"
Since she could do nothing but what legally was required of her, his soon-to-be ex wife relented. They signed papers, crossed t's and dotted i's., silence taped to everything, the pens they wrote with, the hum of the fan and then it was over. Simply.
The desire to remain in the room, to wait for the formalities to fizzle and drop to the ground, diminished rapidly and Chuck stood up, adjusting his jacket. "Are we done here gentlemen?"
"Quite," His lawyer responded.
Chuck nodded and briskly left. Shedding layers of his past as he walked, shutting the door quietly behind him. He was a divorced man now, he realized, sliding the gold band off of his finger and dropping it into his pocket. The emotion, whether it was relief or happiness didn't need a name because he knew that he had just left behind the biggest facade of the last five years and all he needed to know was that it was an accomplishment. Most importantly, he was no longer lying to himself.
Charles Bartholomew Bass, a married man no longer.
La Guardia was buzzing with people, the sights and sounds of arrivals and departures, foreign countries and places not too far away. Blair looped her hands around her children's tightly, guiding them down the corridors, towards the correct terminal. Her heart was beating against her chest, like a hummingbirds wings fluttering against her ribcage, dragged into the waiting crowd by the children. Their tiny bodies pressed up against the glass, searching.
"Daddy, daddy!" Tula and Henry yelped, waving frantically at Mark. His movements were a little worn around the edges, tired. He smiled and waved back, continuing down the aisle and out of the gate.
In one swift movement, he slipped his carry-on off his shoulder and knelt to the ground, his arms open. Tula and Henry slipped from Blair's hold and ran towards him, jumping into his embrace. They turned their faces to his, as he tickled their cheeks with kisses.
"I missed you so much," He released a breath.
"You were only supposed to be gone for a couple of days," Tula scolded, pouting.
"I know baby," He chuckled, "I was thinking about you and your brother every second."
"You missed us?" Henry grinned, his arms wound around Mark's shoulders.
"Did I miss you?" Mark playfully contemplated, as though there could be another answer, "I missed you more than you could imagine."
"Just checking," Henry batted his eyelashes shyly, "Tula said you forgot about us."
Mark caught Blair's eye. She gestured, with a shrug, that she had no idea and a flicker of concern passed between them.
"Why would you think that?" He asked, focused entirely on his son.
"You were gone really, really long," Henry explained.
"I promise that I won't go anywhere without you ever again, " He looked carefully at each of them. "Either of you, okay?"
The twins clung onto his shirt, smiling from ear to ear. "And mommy too," Tula added, "She was sad without you."
Mark kissed the tops of their heads. "And mommy too," He whispered thickly.
After a long moment he stood up, the distance between him and Blair growing smaller and smaller until he was right there in front of her, close enough that she could smell his hair, the scent of hotel shampoo.
"Hi," He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight. Words escaped her. Two weeks apart. The longest they'd been without each other in almost a decade. He extended his hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Everything else seemed to melt away.
She fell into his arms, into a kiss that exercised every muscle in her body, lips curving against his. When they broke apart, breathless, Blair exhaled roughly; all the worries she'd kept since his departure were brittle at her feet.
The kids made a collective ew face as Mark grabbed his bag, flanking their parents on either side. The three of them, a family once more, started towards baggage claim together.
As she looked up at Mark, sliding her vision towards Henry and Tula, Chuck flashed through her thoughts. She wondered briefly how this would be different if it had been him instead of Mark, but the idea was just that - brief - and it fell away. This was her life, Mark was her husband and they were a family. No Basshole included - not if she could help it anyway.