Serena, flush from one too many trips to the martini bar tottered precariously across the black and white marble floors, weaving her way through the crowds. All legs and strappy heels in her thigh skimming silver halter dress, she was the subject of numerous admiring and lecherous glances. Dan Humphrey, firmly anchored at her side, deterred all potential suitors with a warning glare. Realizing their destination, he glanced heavenward, inwardly groaning.
Chuck stood detached from the crowd, boredom and ennui chiseled on his face. Oblivious to the gossip that swirled around him, he pointedly ignored the numerous sexual invitations flashed in his direction by young ladies eager gain his attention. Serena with Dan in tow, crossed the invisible lines Chuck had drawn that evening between himself and society. Reaching his side, her gaze settled on the glass in his hand, her brow furrowing with worry. Hesitating, she studied his demeanor, attempting to discern his mood.
"You're drinking," she said at last.
"How very observant of you, Sis." Smirking, he took another sip of scotch.
"Is that the best idea?"
Frowning, he contemplated her rudely. "Why? Still trying to find evidence to put me away? If drinking made one insane, half the people in this room would be in the nut house right now."
Flustered she ducked her head. "I'm sorry. I just thought…how many more times do I need to apologize?" She sucked on her lower lip, biting down and hoping that the pain would distract her from the tears beginning to well up in her eyes.
"You're not even close yet," he said brusquely, taking another drink.
Dan reached out gently grasping Serena's hand in comfort. "You have to stop punishing Serena for this. She was only trying to help you."
Chuck regarded him blankly. His earnest plea having no effect, Dan continued. "For some reason, I have yet to determine, she loves you. Loves you enough that she was willing to go to court and have you declared insane." His brow furrowed as he recognized his words hadn't come out the way he intended them too. "What−what I mean to say is…Serena thought she was acting in your best interests."
"I completely understand now." Chuck saluted the couple with his drink. "Thanks Humphrey, without you I never would have realized that it was love that made Serena plot to have me locked up in the Ostroff center for the rest of my life." His lips thinned in a sarcastic smile.
"You know what he means," she said reproachfully. Nervously she brushed some loose curls that had fallen from her chignon behind her ear. "What choice did you give me or Nate for that matter? You avoided everyone for months and when Nate went to see you, you were talking to− "Abruptly she stopped, realizing that the conversation they were having was merely a variation of all the ones they'd had since the intervention she had staged with Nate and Jack. Not yet defeated she decided on a new tactic. "What can I do to fix things, make them right between us?"
He leered at her suggestively. "I can think of a few, but I doubt you're limber enough." With a dismissive nod, he turned and headed towards the bar.
Dan bristled at Serena's side. "I don't know why you bother. That guy's just as much of an asshole now as he was in high-school. He's never going to understand what you were willing to go through for him."
"No, this is good." Pleased, a smile touched her lips, giving way to a grin as she mulled over the conversation. "We're getting somewhere. He didn't look like he was visualizing 101 ways to make me disappear and there was definitely a sexual innuendo in there, right?"
Dan looked at her puzzled. "I'm pretty sure the limber thing was meant sexually−that is I would assume−not that you're not limber..."
Clasping her hands around his neck, Serena planted a wet kiss on his lips to the amusement of bystanders. "This is wonderful. He's starting to forgive me. He's finally acting like Chuck," she murmured near his ear.
Bewildered, but pleased to once more have Serena in his arms Dan couldn't resist one parting shot before his lips found hers again. "Are we sure that's a good thing?"
Chuck wandered aimlessly amid the throng, glass of scotch permanently fixed in his grasp. Just as the Red Sea parted so did the crowds as he walked through them. He didn't blame them. He knew he was a constant source of speculation. Of course Serena and Nate with their good intentions hadn't helped. He wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for their interference. Ever since their little intervention, he had made a point of being seen sane at all Bass Industries public functions. He still left the running of the company to Jack, choosing instead to take on the role of public figure head for his own self-preservation as well as the companies. Stockholders didn't take well to the idea that the majority share holder might be loony. There was a bit of a run on the market when the gossip first hit, but steadily with each appearance he made the stock had stabilized and now it was skyrocketing.
He had to admire Jack for putting this event together. It was through him that Bass Industries had acquired several experimental drug companies. They had made a killing patenting a neurological agent that was now used to treat disorders involving the central nervous system. The massive profit they accrued had made a charitable tax write-off a necessity, hence this evening celebrating their recent gift of a new wing at the local hospital devoted to neurology.
It was attending things like this that made him painfully aware of his loss. Blair would have loved being here. She lived for these things. Charity events always made her feel benevolent, especially since she could help people and look pretty at the same time without having to dirty her hands by mixing with the subjects of her generosity. As his wife she would have reigned over the entire party, making sure everything was perfect, posing for pictures, deciding who was worthy of a handshake and who merited a few words of conversation, reminding everyone why she was the undisputed queen.
Lost in thought, he almost missed her. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of crimson, a long dark ringlet streaked with honey highlights, a pale shoulder. For a brief shaky moment he pondered the idea that she might have come back. While he had convinced everyone that his visions were the result of alcohol and cocaine binges, the truth was, he really didn't know. He knew he wasn't crazy, yet for a few months she was everywhere, constantly fluttering in and out of his consciousness, a blessing and a curse. It wasn't until soon after Nate's visit that she finally disappeared into that good night. Devastated yet relieved at the loss he had assumed it was all part of the grieving process. It had certainly helped strip Nate and Serena of their foolish assumptions. He still wasn't quite sure if Jack was disappointed or pleased by his obvious sanity. Agreeing to abstain from alcohol and drugs for a month was hard but ultimately worth the price since it halted all legal action to declare him incompetent. Dumping his drink on the nearest waiter borne silver tray, he gave into compulsion, following the slender form as it glided between emaciated socialites and their bored dates.
Like a hunter, he stalked her; predator to prey. Mesmerized he watched the sway of her hips, the way her curls slid around her shoulders, they way she held her champagne glass. Recognizing each little detail, his heart hammered in his chest. With each step closer to the object of his gaze, his breath grew shorter, ragged. He had to be hallucinating, but why here? Why now? Panicking, he couldn't stop, couldn't turn away. Like a sailor to the Sirens call he had no choice. She led him away from the main ballroom to one of the smaller reception rooms where local artists had placed their work for viewing. Quieter here, small groups of people mingled among the pictures and sculptures being put up for auction that night. Heart crashing in his ears, he stood behind her as she stopped to scrutinize blobs of paint that looked like vomit on canvas.
She had felt his eyes on her almost immediately. Aware of her charms and used to being ogled, she casually dismissed him, another bored playboy looking for his next score. It was only when she sensed he was following her that a prickle of fear appeared between her shoulder blades. Increasingly uncomfortable, she wandered the party hoping he would weary of the chase and move on to easier pickings. Her uneasiness grew as she realized he was undeterred. Joining the small crowd browsing artwork, she stopped to look, knowing that if she needed to give him a few choice words it would be less likely to cause a scene here than in the ballroom. His footsteps stopped behind her, with primitive awareness or some sixth sense she knew he was there inches away, staring at her. She stared straight ahead. Not bothering to turn around, she hoped he would take the hint. Becoming more uncomfortable by the minute, she was forced to take action.
"Are you stalking me?" she asked rudely. Her voice was simultaneously an answer to his prayers and his ultimate fear. "Because I'm warning you, I'm quite skilled at the art of torture by stiletto."
His breath caught in his throat, a strangled sound escaping his lips, "Blair?"
She turned, facing him. Glaring, she put her hands on her hips. "So…not only are you a stalker, you don't even know who you're stalking. I knew New York was full of crazies."
Dumbfounded, Chuck stared, endeavoring to process what his brain knew couldn't be true. Her expression of irritation stilled, softening to concern. "Is something wrong? Please don't get sick on my shoes."
Meeting his eyes directly, she was trapped. As if in a dream she reached out, her fingers inches from his cheek. "Do I know you?" she breathed. Realizing the impropriety of the situation she forced her hand back to her side, fisting the crimson silk of her dress.
A volcano on the edge of erupting, Chuck violently bound his thoughts and emotions, tamping them deep within, forcing self restraint. Applying tactics learned at his father's knee, lessons learnt from observing the rise and fall of societies finest, he fortified himself for the battle ahead.
"We'll find out won't we?" Flashing a dangerous smile, he held out his hand. "I find it hard to believe that anyone having met you could ever forget you." She hesitated, unsure. There was a ferociousness about him, thrilling and frightening her at the same time.
"I'm Chuck Bass."
His dark gaze impaled her and a war of emotions raged within her.
"Bass…how funny," she murmured. Momentarily distracted she gave him her hand. Expecting the customary handshake she inhaled sharply when he instead raised her fingers to his lips. "Audrey." She forgot to breathe as his lips brushed her fingertips. "Audrey Hawthorne. Like the actress and the author." Irritated by her strange reactions and the disorientation he aroused, she wrenched her hand free. She wanted to rub it angrily against her dress, wipe his kiss from her fingers but she couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how he affected her.
"Audrey." His silky voice held a challenge.
She needed air, he was devouring her. Panicking, she searched the room for a familiar face. She almost collapsed in relief when she felt a familiar hand slide around her waist. Leaning into the comfort of his embrace, she tried to make sense of her conflicted emotions and out of character behavior.
"Chuck, I see you've met my fiancé." Jack Bass smiled insolently, triumph glittering in his eyes.
The world stopped, everything disappearing before Chuck's eyes. Silence loomed, tension increasing with frightening intensity. At the edge of a precipice Chuck stood still, murderous rage barely contained. Eyes flat and hard he calculated various actions and their consequences.
Holding her close, Jack regarded Chuck with pleasure. "Audrey, this is my nephew Chuck. "
Audrey smiled faintly. "I didn't know. I thought…" Her mind reeled, sensing something horribly amiss, but unable to pinpoint it. She was ill, sicker than since the accident. She wanted-no she needed to leave now.
Registering her distress as she trembled in his arms, Jack gave in. "It's late. Why don't we head back to the hotel?" Uncertain and scared, she nodded in response. "I'll have the car brought around. Why don't you get your wrap and I'll meet you where we came in." Leaning in, he placed a brief kiss on her lips.
Feeling uncomfortable, having always considered public displays of affection gauche, she stepped away towards the coat check. Midstride, she hesitated briefly. Surprising herself, she made an unexpected decision. Looking over her shoulder she caught Chuck's eye and smiled. "It was nice to meet you Chuck." The name slipped from her lips, familiar and strange. Embarrassed and annoyed at her behavior she quickened her pace, practically running from the room. Two sets of eyes watched her lithe form disappear into the crowd.
Chuck advanced on Jack; a wild animal leashed only by the years spent being conditioned by Bart in social decorum. "What the hell did you do?"
"Why couldn't you have just followed through on your nihilistic streak and let the booze and drugs kill you?" Bitterness glinted in Jack's eyes, his society mask slipping. "Feeling a bit insane?"
"Sorry to disappoint. Unless thinking of all the ways I can make you suffer without quite killing you is crazy. In that case I'm stark raving mad." Teeth bared, his lips thinned into a sadistic smile. "The Chinese developed a wonderful method centuries ago, death by a thousand cuts; I think that's a good place to start."
A muscle quivered along Jack's jaw. "Cause me pain and you hurt her. Do you really want to do that?"
Suddenly it occurred to him. Pain, stark and vivid shimmered in his eyes. "There was no way anyone could have survived that crash. Was Blair ever even on that plane?" His voice was thick, raw.
"No."
"You sick motherfucker." He leaned in close, whispering a deadly vow. "I will annihilate you."
Chuck's words echoed like an empty tomb in Jack's head. "You can try, but I've played this game since before you were born and without a silver spoon in my mouth. If you need a reminder look at my pretty fiancé, she's the result of what happened the last time you decided to tangle with me."
Not giving him the satisfaction of a response, Chuck merely smiled. If he was a religious man, Jack would have sworn he saw the devil in his nephew's eyes. A tiny icicle of fear stabbed his spine, turning the blood in his veins to ice. For the first time in his life he experienced regret. Before it could flourish, he ruthlessly destroyed the wayward emotion. Because when it came down to it there was only room enough in the world for one Bass. One of them would have to be sacrificed and he'd be damned if it was going to be him.
The gauntlet thrown down, Chuck turned his back on his only blood relative. Sliding his phone from his pocket, he gripped it tightly, dialing a number he hadn't called in over a year. "Serena, I think I may have a way for you to make things right between us. "
AN: As always, thanks go to my wonderful reviewers. Cookies for JD, hopelessromantic549, SnowedUnderNJ, JenCort81 and Lee Rion. Eternal gratitude goes to Wendy(theskylitup) and Felicia(puresimplicity-xo). I apologize for the crazy and highly implausible plot. Let me know if you would like me to continue. All comments and criticism are welcome.