TriGemini: Hey thanks for the reviews! You have no idea how awesome they are! And yes, actually, I do plan to bring in the Prince! But not in a way you'd expect. ;)

The moment she locked eyes with him, she was paralyzed. It was as though she and Chuck were thrust into their own world, their eyes never straying away from the other, their souls, entirely in sync. And just as she was about to reach out to him, like lightning, he tore his gaze away from her, wrenching her heart open in the process, and strode away before she could even mouth something—anything.

"B…" Serena said slowly, unsure of what else to say.

But Blair ignored her. She called after Chuck, her cries merely resembling whispers, as he continued to widen the distance between them.

No. He doesn't get to run, she thought almost desperately. Shooting Russell her coldest look, Blair grasped the train of her dress and did something she swore never to repeat: she ran after Chuck.

With his pulse racing, Chuck headed towards the bar and pulled out a bottle of scotch from the shelf, altogether avoiding the alarmed looks of the bartenders. The room had suddenly grown stifling, and his throat was painfully dry. He automatically unscrewed the bottle cap and guzzled down the dark liquid, before finally making it outside the Met, where the vast, open area stood before him. He broke away from his gulp momentarily to breathe in the cold air, finding fleeting comfort in the way it numbed his body.

"Chuck!" He heard Blair call after him, pulling him out of his trance. He closed his eyes, as he heard her shoes hit the pavement, one step at a time.

"Chuck?" She asked softly, now only an arm's length away from him. Grimacing, she took in his gaunt appearance, the smell of scotch instantly hitting her nose.

When he finally looked back, the bleakness of his gaze unnerved her.

"He lied to me, Blair. He lied to me till the day he died."

"You don't know that," She said hopefully.

"Didn't you just hear what Thorpe said?" Chuck barked out, his nostrils flaring.

"I did!" Blair shouted back, ignoring the tears that stung her eyes. "Why do you suddenly trust the guy anyway? He's been trying to steal your company this whole time!"

"Bart killed his wife," Chuck said through gritted teeth. His eyes were searching hers fervently, wondering if she had any idea what he was feeling.

When she didn't say anything back, Chuck felt the sudden urge to lash out on her. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"I'm here for you," She whispered quietly as her lip quivered.

"So now that my world has suddenly come crumbling down, you care? What happened to all the shit I did to you? What happened to 'leave me alone?' and 'never speak to me again?'"

"I still care about you!" She cried, thrusting her fists at his chest.

"Well, I hate to break it to you but you lost that very right when you told me to leave you alone!"

"Chuck just stop," Blair pleaded, suddenly exasperated. "You've just been put through a lot—"

"Understatement of the year!" Chuck bellowed in almost sadistic pleasure. He took another swig of his scotch and let it dribble down his throat, altogether ignoring the way Blair flinched beside him.

"Leave me alone, Blair," he said darkly, no longer facing her.

But being who she was, she remained in her place. "No," She said firmly.

Chuck pounded his fist against a concrete wall. "Leave me the fuck alone, Blair!"

Blair watched him wince in pain. She grabbed his bleeding fist and caressed it gently.

Chuck immediately snatched his hand away, glaring at her venomously. "For fuck's sake, are you deaf?"

But Blair kept her mouth shut and willed herself not to cry in front of him.

"Please…Blair, just leave," He whimpered despairingly. His legs finally gave in and he found himself slumping down on one of the granite steps, his bottle of scotch clanking as it brushed against the pavement.

Blair admonished herself for feeling so helpless, when he clearly needed someone strong right now. Without thinking, she sat next to him. They weren't quite touching, but her heart was beating rapidly nonetheless.

Chuck couldn't find it in him to meet her gaze just yet. He was conscious of what she was doing, that she was desperate to help him. And though every part of him was aching to be saved and extricated from his own private affliction, he held unto his coldness like a shield.

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, savoring their companionable silence. He couldn't remember the last time they just sat together and silently regarded each other's company. So they remained in that position, for how long, neither of them knew. But when he finally looked up at her, Chuck was surprised to find that she was smiling. There was almost an inscrutable glow about her that enkindled a familiar fluttering in his stomach and caused his curiosity to surge. He was already arching his eyebrow in confusion, when Blair suddenly spoke, "Remember in grade 8…when I accidentally got you into trouble?"

"Blair…" Chuck said faintly.

"Well, do you?" She urged, showing no sign of quitting.

Chuck studied her expectant face, silently wondering where she was going with this. Perhaps it was the persistence of her tone that spurred him, Chuck didn't know. All he was sure of was that he had to reply to her; he owed her that much at least.

"'Accidentally?' That's not what I recall, Waldorf."

Blair's face instantly brightened.

"OK, fine I may have ratted you out to Bart," She confessed, narrowing her eyes at him playfully. "But it was your fault to begin with for stealing Nate, when he and I were already set to go to Aspen that weekend."

Chuck felt his guard slipping already, but a huge part of him was just content with sitting next to Blair, breathing in her scent.

"I was hosting the annual 'Lost Weekend,'" Chuck finally said, clutching unto his bottle of scotch a little tighter. "Nathaniel's absence would've been detrimental."

Blair scoffed. "'Lost?' Is that what you call getting nearly half of Nate's lacrosse team arrested?"

"Which was something my father didn't have to know about," Chuck blurted out before he could stop himself.

Blair simply smirked. "You were so mad at me; we didn't talk for a whole month."

Chuck arched his eyebrow at her, trying desperately to hold unto his cool exterior.

"Well, seeing as I was stripped of a cell phone and a car service, it wasn't that difficult."

Blair playfully jabbed him in the arm, her delicate knuckles sending an instant thrill down his spine. He wanted to hold her hand just then, but deep down he knew it would be a fruitless gesture.

Chuck suddenly felt sick to his stomach, rendered helpless by the rapid beating in his chest. He was about to finally get up and leave, when Blair spoke again, "What about that time you, Serena, Nate and I snuck out of homeroom in sixth grade? Remember that?"

Chuck studied her hopeful expression for a moment, still curious as to where this whole journey down memory lane was coming from. He simply shrugged.

"How could I forget? That was probably the only time Blair Waldorf played hooky."
Blair rolled her eyes. "It was also the time Serena and I had our first joint, remember? Or did you mentally block that out of your head?"

When she narrowed her eyes at him, something had clicked in his head. "Jesus, you should win the medal for holding the most grudges," he told her, the corner of his mouth twitching uncontrollably.
Blair laughed out loud, as she buried her face in her palms. "I hated you so much that day! I mean first, you coerced me into skipping class. Then, you went ahead and ruined my skirt too!"

"That was an accident. I was a goner by then! The lighter just slipped—" Chuck exclaimed, as happy images of that day flashed before his eyes.

"—I didn't even have the heart to explain to Dorota why there was a giant burn mark on my skirt!" She finally said, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing.

Somehow the slight twitch in Chuck's mouth comforted every bone in her body. She knew the Chuck she loved was still in there. He was lost, yes, but he was still in there; and knowing that was all she needed.

Her breathing had finally evened out, but her smile remained in its place. Chuck couldn't help but gaze into her eyes—gone was the darkness, the indifference, which he had so fervently despised, and in its place was happiness and maybe, Chuck hoped, even affection.

Terrified that their moment was slipping away, he racked his brain for something further to say. "No, I think our most legendary fight had to be at Eric's ninth birthday. Do you remember?" He asked fondly.

Blair shook her head, her smile still cheerfully intact.

"Spin the bottle? A certain coat closet? Do these ring any bells?"

Recollection suddenly washed over her face. "Oh my God!"

Chuck's grin widened. "We spent all seven minutes bickering. And I distinctly recall you declaring that you wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole."

"Well, obviously! If the bottle had just landed on Nate, we wouldn't have been in that predicament."

"You liked it," Chuck teased.

"You wish!" Blair exclaimed in mock indignation.

That sent Chuck laughing again, something he realized he had not done in a long time. It warmed him to think that only she could muster a real laugh from him; and despite everything that had happened between them, she was doing just that, slowly letting him see something bright for once.

"See, Bass, we've been fighting since…infancy!" She exclaimed, oblivious to the fact that the tight bun in her hair was slowly unraveling.

Chuck felt a sudden urge to brush a few of those stray curls behind her ear, but again he controlled himself. He needed to tread these waters carefully if he wanted another chance with Blair.

"But we always find our way back to each other," he murmured a little more solemnly than before.

Blair instantly felt something tug in her heart. The light and carefree exchange of stories they had just shared was quickly slipping away, and everything was being clouded by cold, hard reality once again. It was always like this with Chuck. One minute, he was playful and relaxed, and the next, grave and equivocal. She figured that was a part of his allure—never really knowing which side to him she would get, but now it just felt incredibly tiresome.

"I haven't forgiven you, Chuck," She heard herself saying, not quite meeting his eye. "I don't think I ever will…but when I told you in Paris that you would always be a part of my world…I meant every word."

When she finally looked up, Chuck was no longer facing her. He was back to staring listlessly at the distance, his face stripped of emotion.

She felt her eyes tearing up again, but instead of looking away, she kept her gaze at him. She was searching for something—an inkling of human emotion, slight movements that showed he was still listening. But much to her dismay, his face remained expressionless.

She was already contemplating leaving, but somehow her body remained glued to the pavement.

"Come away with me," Chuck finally croaked out.

"What…?"

"I can't be in this city anymore. Let's go somewhere, just you and me."

"Chuck, we can't—"

"We can do anything we want, Blair. Go anywhere we want."

"But I don't want to leave. I don't want you to leave."

"Come away with me," Chuck said again.

"No…you can't keep running away."

When Chuck's face fell, Blair thought he looked so young and vulnerable just then.

She felt an inexplicable urge to tilt his chin up with her hand. "Look at me, Bass."

But as his eyes roamed hers, it suddenly hit her how broken he was.

"Please don't run away."

She quickly wiped away her tears, refusing to look weak in front of him. There was something in his eyes that broke her heart and she suddenly couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't bear being this close to him, touching him, smelling him, feeling his breath against her skin.

"Blair…"

"I have to go," Blair blurted out breathlessly. She scrambled to her feet and purposely averted her gaze away from him, knowing full well that the dejected expression on his face would only further puncture her heart. But, as though paralysis had struck the lower half of her body, Blair realized that her legs simply would not budge. Her heart was breaking but she knew deep down that she couldn't just leave without seeking some semblance of closure.

Slowly, she tilted her chin to the side and whispered, "Just please…please don't run away this time." With that, she covered her quivering lips with a shaky hand and walked a way as swiftly as she could.

Each step she took seemed to be heavier than the next. She didn't know where she was going in particular, passing through crowds of guests, catching glimpses of familiar faces. Then, suddenly her eyes fell on the one person she was looking for.

"Blair! Sorry I'm late. Epperley gave me some last-minute errands and I was all the way uptown—" Dan's voice immediately trailed off, "Whoa, hey, are you OK?"

Miserably, Blair looked up at the pair of brown eyes staring back at her in concern.

"Take me home, please."

"Are you sure you're going to be OK?" Dan asked for the fifth time that night.

He helped tuck Blair into bed and was now giving her the same concerned look he had been giving her all throughout the cab ride home.

"Yes," She mumbled weakly. "Sorry for ruining your night though."

Dan hushed her. "Hey, it's alright. Just try and get some sleep, OK? I'll come by in the morning."

Blair looked up at him gratefully, clutching unto her duvet a little tighter. Without saying anything further, Dan pressed a small kiss on her forehead, before finally walking out to leave.