Hey! While it pains me to say this, I should let you know that this is the second to the last chapter of my story! An epilogue is sort of in the works, though with my schedule now being jam-packed, it might take a little longer to complete. As always, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and a massive thanks to all who have stuck by my fic and given such awesome reviews!
All it took was a single lie. A beautifully manufactured lie that flew him 3,628 miles away from home and to the bustling and spiraling streets of Paris, France.
Yup, after a whole year, Dan Humphrey finally made it to France. But not for the pursuit of a certain and recently available blonde, but rather for the complete opposite: he was here for only one person and that person was Chuck Bass.
In fact, just a few hours ago, Dan was absorbed in an instant-message frenzy with his sister, trying to see how far their little, white lie could go. With Jenny's urging—the hyped yet exiled mistress of Upper East Side trickery (just after Blair, of course), Dan sent his mother an e-mail, exaggerating the tortuous amount of readings he had to do for his Contemporary Lit class and how truly sorry he was that he couldn't make it. He even added in a few more X's and O's to his name, just to paint the perfect picture of a remorseful son.
With that out of the way, all Dan had left to do was to actually leave for France. But, of course, easier said than done.
Lying to Blair was a high-risk job fraught with so much danger. No one could ever get away with such a daunting task. Having mastered it herself, the petite brunette could smell deception from a two-mile radius. And yet somehow, to both Jenny and Dan's surprise, everything went by smoothly.
Though sweat was literally prickling down his forehead when his trip to Hudson was brought up the following morning, Blair uncharacteristically failed to pick up on his lie. In fact, she tossed it off as mere conversation—a good sign that his plan was working perfectly.
So now, here he was in Paris. Dan found himself biting his lip in excitement, as he gawked at the overwhelming expanse of architectural symmetry and culture before him. He let his mind wander to the number of distinguished writers and artists who must have been walking on the same steps his feet were gracing at that very moment. This trip may have purely been for Blair, but Dan couldn't help but take a little bit of it for himself.
All of a sudden, his phone buzzed in his pocket and consequently shook away his thoughts. Startled, Dan grabbed it and opened the blinking message.
Remember, FOCUS on B & C! Quit daydreaming bout some obscure, French writer ur weirdly obsessed w/ and get organized! –J
Dan let out a laugh as his eyes roamed Jenny's message. Although she would never admit it, he knew this was her way of redeeming herself for what she had done last year. Because despite all the enemies she made, all the schemes she had masterminded, whether she liked it or not, she was still the Jenny he grew up with.
With a proud smirk, he sent her a quick reply back, promising to concentrate on the task at hand—that is, finding the elusive Chuck Bass. He reached for his pocket again and unfurled the way-too touristy map he had picked up at Charles de Gaulle. There were so many squiggly lines and dots pointing to various places in the city; Dan simply did not know where to begin. Letting out an exasperated huff, he finally looked up from his map and tried to discern where he was.
He was just between Montmarte and Pigalle, Paris' infamous Red Light district. Dan's mouth involuntarily creased into a smirk. This place had such aChuck Bass feel. Its streets were notoriously seedy, but despite that, beaming couples and families meandered along the cobblestone steps, as though they were in any other district. It was paradoxical; it was deviant and heinous but against all odds, it too had a heart. So when Dan's eyes fell on the lone figure sitting leisurely at the café across the street, his not-so-discreet sunglasses perched on his nose, he simply couldn't help but let out a laugh. Sometimes, life was too easy.
"So the rumors are true," Dan declared with a knowing smirk, as his feet brought him closer and closer to his table.
Chuck's mouth fell when he realized Dan Humphrey was towering over him. Yes, Dan Humphrey was in Paris, France bearing the face of a man who was extremely pleased with himself, while he, billionaire mogul Chuck Bass, was sitting all by his lonesome and pathetic self. Brusquely, he stood up from his chair and, out of habit, began unconsciously fixing his appearance. For days, he had been holed up in his suite, drinking himself to oblivion, paying no heed to the clothes on his back. But the one day he decided his skin needed some Vitamin D, the most unlikely situation unfolded, and he was staring at it at that very moment.
"What are you doing here?" Chuck demanded almost instantly, though his words came out more like a gasp.
"Funny, I should ask you the same thing," Dan droned, still trying to digest Chuck's new appearance. Gone were the platinum Cartier cufflinks, the bulky, white gold Rolex watches, the immaculately cut suits. No, the person standing in front of him had to be an imposter.
"You couldn't even bother to put a tie on? Or proper shoes?"
"Did Bla—" Chuck's voice trailed off; he realized he couldn't say her name just yet. So instead, with gritted teeth, he asked, "Who sent you?"
"No one. It's just me," Dan replied, taking the seat next to his. Chuck eyed him skeptically but nevertheless complied, sinking back down on his own chair.
Smirking at his reluctance, Dan continued, "In fact, you should be flattered. I squandered the remnants of my birthday money just to book a flight to Paris, France for…Chuck Bass."
"Well, perhaps you can get back on that flight and leave me alone."
"No can do. Booked a one-way ticket. Plus, why go commercial, when I know someone with a private jet?"
"Humphrey, I have no patience—"
"Well, neither does Blair."
Chuck flinched at the mention of her name. "How…how is she?"
"Oh, so now you care?"
Wincing, Chuck decided to ignore his jibe. After all, he did deserve it. With hesitation, he doled out the excuse that was just at the tip of his tongue: "I tried calling…"
"You know," Dan began, as he inhaled sharply, "I've watched you make a fool of yourself for the last four years, but this probably has to be the most pathetic thing you've done. Granted, you sexually assaulted my sister…twice, criticized my upbringing, and never once made me feel welcome—"
"Get to the point, Humphrey."
"But your penchant for running away? Yeah, that's something I can't quite forgive, especially since it involves hurting Blair."
"This is really none of your business," Chuck muttered under his breath.
Dan narrowed his eyes at him. "Actually, it is. I love Blair—No, not in that way," He quickly corrected himself, noticing Chuck's face darken. "Contrary to what everyone seems to believe, Blair and I aren't in that type of relationship. She's my friend—a good friend. So stop hurting her and come home."
Chuck squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he were back at his suite right now with an uncapped bottle of scotch in his hand. "There's no point. She's never going to forgive me," He said painfully, as if his words were knives piercing his heart.
Dan let out a heavy sigh. He looked away for a moment, trying to debate on what he could possibly say to the brooding figure across from him.
"Chuck, I haven't forgiven you for what you did to Jenny…but I still force myself to eat waffles with you every Sunday brunch. Forgiveness isn't something you can guarantee, and neither does it ever come about the way you want it to…but that doesn't mean it'll never happen. Blair…she hates you. Like really hates you. You can quote me on that. Just the mention of your name makes her blood boil…but that doesn't mean she wants you out of her life. It doesn't mean that one day she's not going to wake up and make the stupid mistake of forgiving you."
Chuck's breath suddenly hitched in his throat.
Taking his silence as a "yes," Dan rose to his feet. "So let's go! Pack up! Get the Bass jet ready."
"I can't…"
"Why the hell not, Chuck?" Dan exclaimed in exasperation.
"Because," He muttered. "Because it's hopeless. It's all fucking hopeless." His head flashed with images of his father, Russell, Raina, and briefly even Eva. No, he couldn't possibly go home. He had to distance himself as far as possible from his old life and make it easier for everyone to forget him and all the destruction he left in his wake.
Fraught with emotion, Chuck abruptly stood up, causing his chair to fall over in the process. Without so much as a goodbye, he swiftly left the table and walked towards the bustling crowds of tourists.
Now by himself, Dan scrunched his face in confusion. What does he mean, "it's all hopeless?" Chuck may have been a masochist at heart, but when it came to pursuing Blair, rain, sleet or snow, he always managed to pull through. There must be more to the story for him to act this way, Dan thought. His eyes quickly found Chuck's retreating figure in the crowd. Without another thought, he ran up to him and took a fistful of his sleeve.
"What's going on?" Dan panted, his grip tightening on Chuck's arm.
Unmoved by his gesture, Chuck simply swatted his hand away. "I'll call for the Bass jet to bring you back. Other than that, this is good-bye Dan."
"Hey, wait. Whatever's going on with you, at least remember that…she still loves you."
Chuck immediately stopped in his tracks. With his back towards Dan, he let his face briefly betray the terrible grief that had been threatening to spill out of him for days. But in a moment's breath, those feelings were wiped away, and Chuck found himself digging deep for the words he had once used to wipe off any trace of Blair from his system: "Well, that's too bad."
This time, as Chuck walked further and further away, Dan didn't follow him.
"Serena! Hey!"
"Dan?" She exclaimed in surprise. Serena barely had the chance to see who was calling before she hastily pressed "Answer" on her cell phone, so she was wholly caught off guard when Dan, the guy she may or may not have been having feelings for, was just on the other line. "Er, hi…what's up?"
Dan let out a nervous cough. "Uhh…not much."
"Right…um, well, Blair said you're in Hudson? How's Jenny? Your…mom?" Serena asked, trying to tread away from the blanket of awkwardness that seemed to hover over their conversations lately.
"Truthfully? I have no idea. I'm not exactly in Hudson..."
"OK, Dan, you're starting to freak me out."
"I'm freaking myself out," he confessed in barely veiled desperation.
"Where are you?" Serena asked almost instantly.
Dan bit his lip. "Paris, France…"
"WHAT? Dan, what are you doing there?"
"Long story, but the reason why I'm calling you is because…well, I recall you still owe me a favor—for getting Blair the internship and all?"
Serena scrunched her face in confusion. "Yes, I do but…Dan, what, why and how are you in Paris right now?"
He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm trying to convince Chuck to come home. For Blair."
Serena instantly felt herself soften, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Dan…that's sweet. Insanely stupid, but…sweet."
Dan felt relief wash over him. He always loved the sound of her voice—it made the predicament he currently found himself in just a little bit more bearable.
"Any luck at least?" She asked, effectively pulling him out of his thoughts.
"Nope. He's too tortured and broody to actually cooperate. So now I'm…sort of stuck here…in Paris with nothing but an extra shirt, a toothbrush and a couple of Euros."
"Oh my God, rookie mistake. Everyone knows reuniting two stubborn people requires actual preparation!" Serena squealed in laughter.
A sheepish smile spread across his face. "I know, I know. Just help me already! I haven't slept in ten hours and Chuck might as well be the next Houdini for all I know!"
When Serena let out another chuckle, Dan swore it was his utter kryptonite, so with great effort, he changed the subject: "How's Blair at least?"
Serena let out a weary sigh, as her eyes wandered over to Blair's shut door. "She's still locked up in her room."
"Well, if we want World War III to reach an armistice, you'll have to convince her to come here."
"Bring Blair to Paris? Dan, she can't even watch 'Funny Face' without screaming profanities at the TV screen!"
"There has to be a reason for her to come here. You think she'd want to visit her parents or something?" Dan asked hopefully.
"Her parents are the last people she'd want to visit—believe me. All four of them are too in love; they'll only remind her of Chuck."
"So what you're telling me is that there's no one—no one in this whole city capable of enticing her to come over?"
"Actually…" Serena whispered, as an idea popped up in her head. She stealthily walked across her room and closed the bathroom door that connected her room to Blair's. "There might be one person."
"Great, who is it?"
Serena broke out into a mischievous grin. "A certain Grimaldi Prince."
"Humphrey," Chuck muttered harshly. "It took you long enough to find me."
"It wasn't that hard actually," Dan mused, as he made his way inside Chuck's hotel suite. "All I had to do was Google the most expensive hotel in Paris and see if it were in the vicinity of a brothel."
Though he was cataclysmically pissed off inside, Chuck couldn't help but smirk.
"Got a couch I could crash on?" Dan said chirpily, as he dropped his backpack on the floor and inwardly recoiled at the stench of alcohol and cigarettes that pervaded the air.
"Absolutely not," Chuck replied stonily. His hand was still gripping the doorknob to imply that Dan was not welcome, but much to his annoyance, the Brooklynite didn't budge.
"Nice to see you too, Chuck."
"What is it going to take for you to leave?" He finally snarled, his patience wearing thin.
"What makes you think I'm only here for Blair?"
His frown still in place, Chuck managed to raise an eyebrow.
"I need to clear my head," Dan murmured vaguely. "Serena just broke up with Ben."
He narrowed his eyes at Dan, trying to register what he had just said. Although Chuck loathed everything about the person standing opposite him, the sincerity in his words struck a chord with him more than he would have liked to admit. Inhaling sharply, he knew he was powerless to do anything but acquiesce.
"One night. That's it."
"I have never felt more welcome in my life." Smirking, Dan plopped lazily on the couch. When his eyes scanned the spacious room, he realized that there were documents haphazardly strewn across the floor. "What's with all the papers?" He asked in bewilderment.
"None of you business."
Ignoring Chuck, Dan picked one up and began reading. "These are all e-mails from your uncle," he said, recognizing the name. "And who's Avery Thorpe?"
Chuck walked over to his bar and poured himself a drink. "The woman my father murdered."
"What?" Dan stammered, the paper instantly dropping to the floor.
With a cold, hard expression on his face, Chuck continued, "That article you wrote about the fire that happened in one of my father's buildings—it turns out there's more to the story."
Dan stared back at him incredulously. "Chuck, what are you talking about? I read the police statements. They didn't mention an 'Avery Thorpe.'"
"Read the paper to your left. Apparently my father had been involved with the Thorpe's from the very beginning," Chuck muttered darkly, as his hands involuntarily shook.
"Wait, is this why you ran away?" Dan demanded, as he walked over to Chuck and grabbed the glass from his hand. "You think your father would really have done this?"
Glaring at him icily, Chuck snatched his glass back and downed the rest of it in one sloppy gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and muttered, "The evidence speaks for itself. Russell was his partner. When one of their business deals went sour, my father all but left him. It's because of him that the Thorpe's filed for bankruptcy. He's the reason why Avery even showed up at his building site in the first place, begging him to help her family. And he couldn't even come clean about her death. She was just another casualty to securing his legacy."
Dan gaped at him in disbelief. "Yes, Chuck, according to your seedy uncle! You can't just base this whole thing on what Thorpe and Jack said! At least call one of your henchmen, PI's, whomever!"
"No one else can know about what my father did!" Chuck barked back. "The last thing I need is for the authorities to be alerted."
Sighing heavily, Dan willed himself to calm down. "Chuck, you know more than anyone that Jack's bad news."
"Bad news or good news, he's going to tell me everything I need to know tonight," he drawled, turning his gaze away.
"You're meeting him?" Dan demanded angrily.
When he didn't reply, Dan lost all his inhibition and forcefully shoved him against the wall, hoping to stir him from whatever zombie-like daze he was in. "He broke you and Blair! He assaulted Lily! He's not your family, Chuck. They are, and all Jack has done is hurt them!"
Grimacing, Chuck pushed Dan's arm away and yelled back, "Get out of my way, Humphrey!"
But Dan didn't budge. He remained firmly at his place and fixed his eyes at Chuck's. "Even if your father really did something like this, even if he really is this coldblooded person you're making him out to be…don't you think it's a little suspicious that right after telling you all this, Russell decides to increase his bid for your company the very next day?"
"What?" Chuck stammered, his feigned indifference slowly unraveling.
Glowering at him, Dan let go of Chuck's collar and slowly moved away. "I read it on the newspaper yesterday. Russell Thorpe doubled his offer. And I thought you should know, before you trust him or anyone else involved."
Without saying anything, Chuck walked over to his briefcase and turned on his Blackberry. Dan took his vacant stare and the way his face failed to bear any trace of even the faintest of emotions as something of stunned silence. Either way, he knew his words had finally gotten through to him. But more importantly, Dan knew that in the weird, hazy depths of Chuck Bass's mind, a plan was being formulated.
"Andrew, I need a favor."
"Serena!" Blair called out, as she animatedly burst into Serena's room, one hand clutching her Blackberry and the other, gripping several hangers of clothes.
Worry instantly flashed across Serena's face. "B?" She asked, as she placed her laptop down to listen to her crazed friend in earnest.
"Pack your bags! We're going to Paris!" Blair squealed girlishly. She threw her clothes on Serena's bed and, without asking, began rifling through her closet.
"For Chuck?" Serena inquired, following after Blair in curiosity.
Blair dropped what she was doing and shot her best friend a look of disgust. "No, God, no! He can carry on with his ridiculous, disease-ridden Euro Trip—I officially don't care! Louis, Prince Louis called," She said dreamily.
Serena had to bite her lip.
"He called? That's…random," She remarked innocently, though a smirk was tugging dangerously at her lips.
Taking no notice, Blair blissfully rambled on, "That's what I thought! But he went on and on about how he kept running into Manet paintings; and he's been thinking of me ever since. Can you believe that? So now he wants me to meet his parents! Of course, I would have already met them had Chuck not decided to pull another disappearing act over the summer, but that's yesterday's news. S, this is going to be so much fun!"
"I know!" Serena squealed as she pulled her best friend in for a hug. "When do we leave?"