A/N: Ahh, thanks for the reviews...you guys are all so kind and I'm sorry for leaving you guys in suspense last time! Sorry for grammar/spelling errors in my chapters...I know it's no excuse, but I write these pretty late at night and even with proofreading them a couple times, I still don't catch them all. So please forgive me!
Disclaimer: I own nothin'!
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The air smelled of booze, smoke, and something equally nauseating on that very morning, where Chuck woke up on the couch with a throbbing headache and sick stomach. This was it, this was the day Chuck's liver would completely fail on him. The poor organ had worked so hard for him, dealt with Chuck's love for copious amounts of alcohol for years. But Chuck had never felt as sick in his life as he did this morning, including his alcoholic rampage after his father's death.
His whole body felt heavy as he lay on the couch, struggling to understand his surroundings. His eyelids slowly opened, but shut just as quickly when a bright light in front of him blinded his vision. After lying there for a few minutes longer, Chuck felt for the arm of the couch and grasped it to pull himself up in a sitting position. Using his hand as a cap over his eyes to shield the bright light, he looked around to decipher his location. Once he realized he was in his suite and the bright light was coming from the windows, the previous night was gradually remembered.
Guys he knew, and some he most definitely did not, lie passed out on the floor with a variety of girls by their sides. Empty bottles of alcohol lay strewn across the suite, some broken and others formed into pyramids.
Chuck snorted at the stupidity of it all. How did Nathaniel convince him that this party was a good idea? Where was Archibald anyway?
Chuck slowly got up and started hunting around the suite for Nate. He looked in his bedroom, the bar area, behind the couches in the living room, and lastly, because it was always a possibility with Nate, outside on the balcony. Chuck shrugged over Nate's absence and went over to his bar to create his own hangover cure. He opened a cabinet to get his blender out and was about to open the drawer to get a necessary ingredient when there was a knock on the door. Forgetting about the concoction he was preparing, Chuck walked over and swung the door open, only to be greeted by Nate.
"Hey, man. You're up?" Nate walked into the suite past Chuck, making sure to step over the sleeping bodies on the floor.
Chuck rolled his eyes, but stopped halfway through the gesture when his head started pounding from the exaggerated optical movement.
"More and more perceptive each day, Nathaniel."
Nate ignored him and grinned as he looked at the evidenciary mess from the previous night. "Last night was great, huh?"
"Terrific," replied Chuck, sarcastically. He made his way back to the bar to finish his remedy, but Nate stopped him once he reached the counter.
"Woah, what are you doing, Chuck?"
Chuck gave Nate an incredulous look, "What does it look like I'm doing?"
"But man, a blender? People are still sleeping!"
"And I care because...?"
"C'mon, man. That's just evil. You would not have wanted to wake up to someone blending a drink."
"I didn't want to wake up with a hangover, but I guess we don't always get what we want, now do we?" Chuck glared at Nate, grabbing his temple as he felt another shooting pain run through his head.
"Hey," said Nate, lifting his hands up in mock surrender, "that was all you."
"Right, I came up with the brilliant idea of another Lost Weekend. Where were you this morning anyways?"
Nate visibly tensed and looked everywhere else but Chuck's face as he replied, "You know, I just went for my morning jog."
Chuck narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "A jog? Nathaniel, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure you were there with me last night, drinking almost as much as I did, and I like to think I can hold my liquor well by now. But right now? My head is throbbing and I can barely stand. You're meaning to tell me you woke up and went for a jog? Really?"
Nate stuck his hands in his pockets, pausing a moment before replying, "Yeah...it was no big deal, I'm used to it."
"So you mean that wasn't you last night singing Billy Idol after we shared a bottle? I mean clearly alcohol has no effect on you..."
Nate rolled his eyes before crossing his arms. "What's up with the suspicious questions anyways? I went for a jog, who cares? Now do you want to go eat something or what?"
Chuck held his gaze on Nate for a moment longer before looking down, then back up with a smirk on his face. He knew Nate was lying, but he really didn't have the mental capability right now to pry the truth out of him. "Only if it's on your tab, Archibald."
Nate grinned and nodded, "Deal."
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Blair opened her eyes only to find blackness surrounding her. She was apparently in a dark room and had been laid on a bed as far as she could tell. Her lips felt torn and blistered, most likely from the duct tape that had been ripped off of her right before they....
Oh, yeah...knocked her out by carelessly tossing her onto the bed, therefore, causing her to slam her head against the headboard. She felt her heart rate quicken as she remembered what happened to her...hours ago? It sure felt like it had been hours.
At least she hadn't suffered any brain damage...yet. Speaking of brains, or lack thereof, where was Serena? Blair strained her eyes to see if she could make out another body next to her since she couldn't feel for the girl with her own arms still tied together behind her.
Blair opened her mouth to speak, but found her throat dry and her attempt at forming words only came out as hoarse groan. She had screamed so much earlier, even with the duct tape over her mouth, that the men who had kidnapped her had shoved her into this isolated to room to shut her up. She didn't remember Serena being pushed into the room with her, but some things were still unclear about what had happened, most likely from the impact of her head banging against the board.
Well, either way, she couldn't just sit there and wait for whatever the men were planning. She had to figure out what was going on. Knowing her legs were tied together with a rope around her ankles, Blair tried scooting herself towards the edge of the bed using her butt and the heels of her feet. She made it to the edge and slowly slid herself off the bed and onto her feet. She unanticipated the great distance from the edge of the bed to the floor, however, and fell forward onto her knees once her feet hit the ground. She felt tears of frustration stinging her eyes as she was faced with the reality of her situation again.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she used her knees to propel herself upward and, with careful balance, straightened her knees so that she was finally standing. She hopped her way over towards the door, grimacing as she thought about how pathetic she probably looked jumping around like a rabbit or kangaroo. If only the girls at Constance could see her now. Penelope would have a field day over the scene.
The fact that she was worrying over what she looked like rather than where the hell she was did not seem the least bit strange to the Queen B herself, therefore, it was a fact that went unrealized.
Blair put her ear against the door, trying to quiet her own breathing, which had become more of a pant as she had struggled to make her way across the room. Once she quieted down, she strained to pick up on any sounds outside the room.
After she was met with silence, she felt a shiver of fear run through her when she realized that she could potentially be alone in some random building at some random location with no one to see, hear, or talk to and with no way of being tracked down.
Blair felt her legs going numb as she leaned against the door, with her body gradually sliding down to the floor. She brought her knees in and rest her chin on top of them, waiting for something...anything to happen.
Chuck would find her. He probably had all of the police in Paris looking for her at this very moment.
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Chuck came back home to his suite around 3 o'clock that afternoon, feeling much better than he did in the morning. Breakfast in the morning with Nate and some basketball after had been nice. It was weird how much he missed hanging out with his best friend. He had figured that once he and Blair had become a...couple - Chuck grimaced at thought - he wouldn't need any one other than Blair in his life. But today made him realize that it was nice to have another male companion around. Especially a guy that he had grown up with such as Nate.
Nate had his blonde moments, but he was simple, and simplicity was something he craved nowadays with Bass Industries being so hectic and energy-consuming. He liked that Nate was just easy to be around.
The suite was still a mess, but Chuck would have it cleaned later. He threw his key onto the coffee table and glanced around for his phone. Where was the damn thing?
He had no clue what he had done with it the night before and started searching for it by looking underneath the couch cushions. He had spent most of the night on the couch and was pretty sure he must have dropped it somewhere around there. He continued looking around the suite when it wasn't found on the couch, looking on all the table tops, his bed, the bar counter, and his room, but his phone was no where to be found. He decided to just worry about it later and made his way to the bathroom to turn on the shower. Just as he was about to undress himself and get in, there was a knock on the door. Chuck made his way over and opened it.
"Mr. Bass. I'm sorry to bother you, but you had a package delivered and I was asked to make sure it was personally received by you." The front desk employee held a brown package out towards Chuck, politely smiling as he waited for him to take it.
Chuck frowned, "Who is it from?"
"I'm sorry, Sir, but the man wouldn't disclose the information."
Chuck narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but nodded anyways and took the package. Just as he was about to close the door, he stopped and called out, "Hey!"
The front desk man stop walking away and turned expectantly towards Chuck.
"Could you order me a new Blackberry Bold? I seem to have misplaced mine. And get it quickly?"
"Of course, Mr. Bass. I'll have it delivered by tonight."
Chuck nodded, shut the door, and began to tear open the package. He pulled some of the papers out and shuffled through them. They were the documents for various buildings that Bass Inc. owned. Chuck furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Why the hell was someone sending him copies of contracts for buildings he already knew the company owned?
He was reminded of the shower he had been ready to take when he heard the water still running. He set the papers down and decided to just ignore them for now. Until he got a new phone, he really couldn't do anything, especially since he wouldn't be able to get a hold of his P.I.
Chuck took off his clothes and tossed them onto the floor as he got into the shower that only a Bass could afford.
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Blair moved away from the door as quickly as she could when she heard a key being placed into the door's lock. She sat against the wall, holding her breath as the door was opened.
Someone walked into the center of the room, and from what Blair could hear, seemed to have pulled a chain of some sort before the room was flooded with light.
Blair's eyes shut quickly, not yet adjusted to the harsh, bright light hanging from the ceiling.
"What are you doing over there?" a man grunted, walking towards the spot where Blair was currently sitting. She crouched her head and shoulders inward, afraid of what the man would do. When she was left untouched, she slowly looked up at the man's face and instantly recognized him as the man who had originally tied her up.
"What? You can't talk now?" the man leaned down and picked up a struggling Blair.
Blair felt anger seep through her as the man grabbed onto her shoulders and pulled her up. "Let go of me! Let me go this instant!" yelled Blair, trying to elbow the man in the stomach.
The man growled and threw her over his shoulder, finding she was more disabled this way.
"Do you know who you're messing with here? I swear to God, my boyfriend will kill all of you for this! In fact, he's got a whole squad looking for you guys right now just waiting to watch you guys die through slow, painful deaths!"
The man tossed Blair onto the bed and grabbed another rope off the floor, ignoring her ridiculous threats.
Blair tried to mask her fear by threatening the man, but she knew it was no use since her voice was shaking and she knew that her panic was clearly showing through.
The man pushed Blair against the headboard and placed the rope against her stomach, wrapping it around her front and all the way around the headboard, keeping her effectively tied in place.
Blair felt a sob make its way to her throat and she bit on her bottom lip from crying hysterically in front of the man. As he continued wrapping the rope around her and the headboard to secure her in place, Blair willed herself to remain calm.
"Please," she resorted to begging since her angry shouts hadn't gotten her anywhere yet, "don't do this. Please."
As he pulled the two ends of the rope together against Blair's stomach, he looked up at her as he started tying the ends into a knot.
Blair's eyes were brimming with tears and even with all the struggle she had gone through, her curls were still perfectly coiffed, framing her face. She looked like a sad, porcelain doll, pleading the man with her wide eyes and unconsciously formed pout.
He looked back down and tied the knot harder before turning around, making his way towards the door.
"Wait!" Blair shouted, stopping the man in his tracks.
"Please, just tell me, is my friend o-okay?" she stuttered. "Please, I just need to know."
The man shrugged, pulled the chain hanging from the ceiling to turn off the light, before leaving and locking the door on his way out.
Blair felt a tear make it's way down her cheek as she was met with darkness once again.
"Please hurry, Chuck," Blair whispered into the empty room.
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Later that night, after pondering over the documents and eventually giving up on figuring out what they meant, Chuck lay in bed flipping through TV channels.
There was a knock on his door again, but this time Chuck was expecting it. He got out of bed and opened his suite door, greeting the front desk man.
"Sir, I have a new Blackberry Bold for you."
"Thanks," Chuck mumbled, barely remembering to close the door as he anxiously tore open the box and pulled out the phone.
Thankfully he hadn't lost his contacts since they had been saved onto the compatible software on his computer. He hooked up his phone to his laptop and watched as all his contacts were loaded onto the phone.
Once it was done, he found Blair's number and pressed the call button. He waited for her to pick up, but was once again met with her voicemail. He sighed in frustration, wondering if she had called him or not, knowing he wouldn't know unless he found his old phone. He hung up and decided to call Serena. He tried her number, but he was also met with her voicemail.
Would it be too crazy if he called dear Aunt Carol? He had to let Blair know that he lost his phone or else if she called him and he didn't call her back, she'd go all manic Blair on him. She might even give him the silent treatment, which was worse than anything else.
He decided to be safe rather than sorry and scrolled through his phonebook to find his P.I.'s number. When his P.I. picked up, Chuck replied, "Yes, it's me. I need you to get me Carol Rhodes number in Miami. Make it fast."
A few minutes later, Chuck was called back and given the number, which he proceeded then to calling.
Aunt Carol never picked up, however, and instead, Chuck was met with a message saying that the number was no longer in service. Chuck frowned, looking down at his phone to make sure he dialed the correct number. Confirming he did, Chuck pressed end and paused momentarily to figure out what exactly was going on.
None of the girls were answering his calls and Aunt Carol apparently didn't have a phone anymore. Either that or his P.I. was incompetent. The latter seemed unreasonable since his P.I. worked exceptionally well for everything else Chuck had asked him to do.
Something was going on, something that Chuck didn't like.
Little did he know that what was going on was more than something that he'd just dislike. It was something he'd feel sick to his stomach over.
This morning, he had thought that he had never felt so sick in his life. He would soon find out that it was a statement made a tad too early and much too naively.