A/N: Thanks for all the support guys, I didn't really know how missed I was! And the reviews were lovely and amazing and lovely some more. I'm tired though so this chapter is short (Again) and I'm just going to straight up answer the most common private PM I've been getting, which is: Why did I leave and why did I come back ...

Well, I left because I don't really watch the show anymore. Although I like Dair in theory, seeing it in practice was too weird for me. I will always be Chair at heart. Secondly, I came back because I missed this story and the characters.

This chapter is continuous and switches itself up without warning and is part 1 of 2. He = C and She = B

PS. I don't know who is into the IT crowd but it's one of my favorite things ever and I just saw submarine today, and it was really good and I love richard ayoade and ah! (completely unrelated)

I am officially talking to myself in an A/N. Awkward.

P.P.S: The lyrics are actually a song from someone who is is a friend of a friend of mine. He's good and the song was stuck in my head all day long so I'm going to be nice and promote him. h t t p:/w w w.s u p l o a d.c o m/ l i s t e n ? s= 6 s h k N U if you're interested. (Remove spaces)

Can I get an amen? AMEN. Okay, that was enough babble for a lifetime. Go. Read. Review if you could C:

Under your command
I'll break my own good hand
Until I'm coming out
I'm running down
Side to side
Shakin' out
all of your hooks
All of those hooks
And your smile isn't mine to adore
Because the looks have changed
to match the way
that your hooks pulled me
out from my dreams
With our feet tangled up in the sheets
Until you forced me to sleep
You still got hooks that are hooked in me
- S. T

Chapter Twenty-Three:

Chuck brushed a hand to his cheek and held it there.

"I get in at four o'clock in the afternoon."

She let out a breath and the silence seemed to hang between them on a string, thin and useless.

He felt as though every word was an outstretched hand, empty and waiting. "Blair?"

"I just -" She paused, "You will be there, won't you?"

"I'll see you tomorrow," He said. Nothing would keep him away.

"Tomorrow then," and then the line went dead.

He put the phone down, closed his eyes and imagined his entire body was made of stone. Nothing could break him and nothing would. Not this time.

Blair pressed herself against her headboard and straightened out her bones. She felt something building up and breaking down inside of her and when she realized she was swelling with hope, she turned off the lights and shut her eyes against the darkness.

The flight from Paris was long and uneventful and the drive home- quiet. Once inside the apartment, he flung his jacket into the bedroom and climbed into the shower. There wasn't anything to think about, only things to remember and it all felt as though his reservations wanted to climb out from between his lungs and into the light.

He toweled off and dozed for a small while. When he woke, he changed and stood at the window, the city below was cupped in shadows. He himself was not much different. A line of thought between phrases. Nothing with much shape or texture.

He toweled off and fell asleep for a little while, dreamed of nothing. When he woke, he changed and stood at the window, watching the city below cupped in darkness.

She shifted her weight, clipped in her earrings and measured her wrinkles. She frowned, feeling the anxiety bite at her ankles. But deep inside, somewhere between her heart and her stomach, excitement was clawing at her organs and making room.

Tula and Henry were spending their fourth weekend at Mark's new apartment. And as she walked through the house, collecting things and putting them away, the emptiness and the silence seemed a little heavier.

He knew she was there before she sat down. He could smell her. The mixture of wildflowers and cucumber cream. He closed his eyes quickly, inhaled sharply and when he opened them again, she was mere inches away.

"Chuck ..."

He nodded, "Blair."

Her heart was pounding. She felt sick. She could barely hold herself there, keep her words lined up and neat. It happened so suddenly, a rush of exhilaration and fear and when he pulled her chair back for her, she felt almost as though she couldn't continue. Composure was difficult to grasp and even more difficult to hold. She was keeping so many things inside of her that she had begun to feel dusty and rife with age.

The morning light spilled into the bedroom like butter across toast. She was poised over his naked body, tracing his scars and his freckles, the constellation of his body, her brown hair tickling his back.

Finally, she lowered her lips to his ear. "Wake up, sleepyhead. The birds are out and singing."

He quirked one eye open, "Are they? Strange ... I can't hear a thing."

She walked her fingers down his shoulder, brushed her breast against his elbow and laughed.

"If we spend another day inside, I think someone somewhere might worry about us.."

"Let them," He growled, snaking his arm around her waist.

"Chuck!" She protested, "I hardly see you as it is!"

He lowered her naked body into his lap, pulled the hair away from her face.

"All the more reason ... wouldn't you agree, my love?"

"No, I do not." She pulled away from him then, stood up and stretched, unfurled.

He pressed his lips to her neck, gingerly. "Don't be mad, I love you."

She turned to him, let his hands gather her up. "Chuck, what's something you don't like about me?"

There was silence, but only for a moment. "Something I don't like about you?"

"Yeah, I don't know. Maybe I snore too loudly or you don't like the way I chew on the ends of all the pens or maybe, I don't know, stuff."

"I can't think of anything I don't love about you ..."

She pressed her eyebrows together, fit her chin into the crook of his shoulder blade.

"There has to be something ... even you do things that annoy me."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. When you're gone ... I feel like a little empty inside but only sometimes."

He pulled her away from him, looked her in the eyes. "You are not empty Blair, don't ever say that."

"I'm not," She pouted, "But my routines always get messed up. They are different you know and there is a life to be lived, whether you are here or not."

"I know," He whispered, feeling guilty, "And I'm sorry."

"Well if you're so sorry," She teased, "Then you better kiss me."

And he did.