AN: Vanessa and Dan…is it terrible to say I almost always skim over their scenes in GG? Anyways, I have changed their SL slightly to fit my needs-Vanessa and Dan have been somewhat broken up since the finale because of G, and V has come to terms with the fact that Georgina is pregnant. Also, to those who truly believe that Blair would feel no guilt over Jenny's death-I firmly believe she would. Because even if Jenny had slept with Chuck, I don't think Blair would want her dead. It's different between wishing someone were dead and actually meaning it. The last scene has been written since the finale, a bit of an alternate ending to Oh Star-though a bit re-written for this chapter. It's one I hold near and dear to my heart. Much love to my beta, bethaboo and to LisaLevine for her incredible insight. And a thousand thank yous to you lovely reviewers, alert-ers, and favorite-ers. Without further ado, chapter 3.
Her phone was ringing again, and she idly wondered if she should turn it off. She didn't have to look at the display to know who was calling; his insistent calling had started an hour after the hospital and had not ceased since.
She sighed as she rolled onto her back, her fingers splaying over her stomach as the ringing continued. She had gotten used to it as of the past two hours, until it was merely a dull ringing in the back of her mind that she ignored with relative ease.
Her stomach was a flat plane of smooth, milky skin, and it had been that way ever since she could remember. The only time her stomach expanded would be after consuming large amounts of food that had one purpose-to be purged from her stomach.
It was slightly laughable that she ate food for the sole purpose of vomiting it back up. Almost like setting a house on fire for the sole purpose of playing hero. Except Blair was no hero; she wasn't saving anyone-only destroying herself further. And her destruction had almost become easy, the end of her toothbrush (or if worst came to worse, her pointer finger), easily triggering a practiced reaction.
She would cough, and she would choke slightly-and then there would be the immense feeling of relief as she expunged the food from her body. She would throw one final, disgusted look at the toilet before flushing away the evidence. And then she would rinse her mouth and brush her teeth, wash her hands twice and examine herself in the mirror.
It was a cycle, a routine of imperfections becoming perfect once more through the darkest of deeds.
….
"Have you talked to Dan about this?"
"No," Georgina admitted. "I couldn't-I didn't want to face Dan. Not like this."
Rufus sighed as he continued packing a change of clothes for Dan, his hair washed and clean for the first time in days. "Georgina, this decision isn't yours to make alone. I know Dan hasn't been the best supporter, but you have to give him time."
Georgina shook her head adamantly, her hand lying slightly on top of her swollen stomach. "He was fine before the accident happened."
"Talk to him," Rufus told her, "I don't know what you want me to say, Georgina. You know, when Dan told me you were pregnant-"
"You weren't surprised, I know." Georgina replied with a roll of her eyes. "I don't care what you think."
"I never said that that," Rufus said hesitantly, and he knew that Georgina caught the lie as well. "I just think-"
"I will not," Georgina said adamantly. "I'm not keeping it. I don't want it and that's final."
"Georgina," Rufus stressed again. "Think about the decision you're making."
"I have," she replied calmly. "I'm simply here until I can get this thing out of me, and be on with my life." She paused to take another breath, her hand still lying across her stomach. "I only came here because I needed to disappear." Rufus opened his mouth, as if to ask yet another question "Don't ask questions, Rufus."
Her tone was mocking, and Rufus sighed once more, his exhaustion becoming more apparent. "I won't tell you what to do," he said simply. "Only that I still wonder what my life would have been like if Lily hadn't given Scott away."
With those final words, he left the loft with quiet footsteps and his head held high. The door of the loft clicked behind him, leaving her alone once more. The lie she had spun had been one fabricated to hide her true feelings, her true intentions. Because Georgina, no matter how heartless and cruel she had been, didn't want to be alone.
Georgina sank to her knees as she felt the baby-their baby-kick once more. And suddenly, she didn't feel so alone anymore. It was odd, that the girl who had once professed to have a doctor on speed dial precisely for abortions (though surprisingly, she had never once needed it before this) was now harboring a secret desire to keep her child. The same girl who had proclaimed far and wide that she would give up the child upon delivering it also yearned to play out the cheesy scene in which she held their baby while his father looked on adoringly. It was why she had come back, though it had been a rash decision followed by an even odder desire for anchovy pizza.
From the moment her parents had unceremoniously dumped her into her nanny's arms, Georgina had been alone. Growing up as a child in the Upper East Side entailed as much, but she had looked upon others-Blair Waldorf in particular-with their perfect families and perfect lives with jealousy.
It was why she had related so well with Chuck-whose mother was dead and father was absent-and Serena, whose father had left and mother was hopping from husband to husband. It was also why she particularly detested Blair Waldorf. The girl had it all; a doting father and a legion of friends and yet she had set out to corrupt those closest to Georgina. She had changed Serena first, made the ultimate party girl become demure and docile. Once she had successfully turned the party girl into another society princess, not unlike herself, Blair had set out to corrupt Chuck. She had completely conned him into a relationship, turned him from the ultimate playboy into a devoted, utterly whipped boyfriend.
Yes, Georgina thought bitterly. Blair Waldorf had everything and more-leaving Georgina completely alone.
But there had been one person who had seemed immune to the charms of Blair Waldorf. One person who had also seen past Georgina's hardened exterior and seemed to actually like her. It had been more than sex-like it had been with Chuck-and more than partying-as it had been with Serena-with Dan. And it was the reason she had come back, eight months pregnant and simply counting the days till she would be released from what she liked to call pregnancy hell.
The only problem was, she knew that what she had gone through these past months would be nothing compared to having to give up her child.
…
"They're doing it today," Serena said softly, stifling the sob that threatened to rise in her throat.
She hadn't known that it would be this hard, losing someone, least of all someone she had hated. It was almost dreamlike, the situation that they had been caught in, not unlike insects in a spider's web. Held captive by the thin threads of a reality they couldn't quite grasp, they could only struggle uselessly against their bonds.
Serena didn't understand why she had cried those tears, a little voice telling her that it was better this way. This way, Jenny would be out of their lives for good, her meddling would cease, and they would be free to live their lives in relative peace. But Serena knew that those words were a lie-knew that at the end of the day, she would rather have a meddling, irritating, living Jenny Humphrey than one who was brain dead and on her way to the funeral home.
"Blair?" she questioned, having heard nothing from her best friend.
"I'm here," came the reply. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"B, I know you and Jenny had your…differences." Serena could almost hear the quiet scoff on the other end, and she knew that Blair and Jenny's problems were more than petty differences. "But she's-well, it's kind of hard to hate someone who's dead."
"I know," Blair agreed quietly. "It doesn't make what she did hurt any less, but I can't bring myself to hate her."
"Blair, I know what Chuck and Jenny did was wrong, but-"
"No buts, Serena. I'm not discussing this with you."
"You should know…yesterday, when Chuck came to the hospital-"
"Serena. I want nothing to do with that Basstard, so can we please stop talking about this?"
"Okay," Serena acquiesced with a sigh, knowing this was one battle she was bound to lose. "But you're going to have to face him sooner or later, B."
"I'd prefer later," Blair told her. "But I do suppose I'll see him at the-"
Funeral. The worst of society functions, the last one she had attended still fresh in her mind.
"Yes," Serena agreed. "I guess we'll be seeing him there. Rufus has already started making…arrangements. Everyone's saying goodbye, they're taking her off life support tonight. Even a few of Jenny's minions came, you wouldn't believe some of the things those girls said…anyways, I-I want you here, Blair. When it happens."
"S, I don't think I can-"
"Please," Serena pleaded once more. "I need to be strong-for Eric, for Dan-and I can't do it without you. I know it would mean a lot to Dan that you're there too." She winced at the last sentence, knowing that in Dan's current state of mind, he would be anything but glad to see Blair Waldorf when his sister was taken off life support.
"I'll think about it," Blair said. "S, I've got to go. Mother's asking me to look over her newest designs, and as much as this is an anomaly, I want to…"
"I understand," Serena said quickly. "I'll text you later."
"Sounds good," Blair replied, her voice oddly high to Serena's ears. "I'll talk to you later."
"Blair, wait I-" but the dial tone reached her ears before the sentence was finished.
Serena sighed, throwing her phone down in frustration as she paced the room. Throughout their conversation, minus the angry outbursts about the 'Basstard', Blair had been oddly detached, as if Jenny's impending death had caused her to isolate herself from the world entirely.
It was the complete opposite of Serena, which had always been the way of the two girls. Serena needed comfort, needed companionship at a time like this, while Blair preferred to self-destruct in peace.
Self-destruct. The word stuck in her subconscious, and for a moment Serena stopped worrying about her family, stopped grieving the loss of Jenny Humphrey. In that moment, Serena had a thought, an observation that could not be ignored.
No, she thought quickly. It couldn't be-there wasn't-yet all the signs were there. The obvious detachment, the abrupt endings to calls, and the way Blair had picked at her lunch of cherry tomatoes and plain lettuce. The striking red of the tomatoes matching the ruby red of her lips, perfectly pursed as Blair sat in complete silence.
As Serena continued pacing, she found herself worrying more and more over her best friend, who was most likely kneeling over a porcelain bowl at the moment, instead of at the Waldorf atelier.
…
"Goodbye, Jenny." Vanessa whispered, touching Jenny's cheek with the tips of her fingers. Tears rolled relentlessly down her cheeks as she watched the young girl on the bed. She felt Dan's presence behind her, comforting and oppressive at the same time.
"You were like a little sister to me," Vanessa continued, her voice cracking slightly. "Yet you taught me so much. You taught me how fiercely one could love another, and you taught me the importance of family."
Vanessa took another deep, shuddering breath as she clutched Jenny's limp hand in her own.
"I'll miss the way we used to go eat perogies on Saturday afternoons and see movies at the Veronika," she whispered, pausing to wipe the back of her hand on her cheek. "I'll miss your fashion critiques, and I'll miss the sound of your sewing machine. You were almost unrecognizable to me this past year-and some time before that."
Vanessa heard Dan's sharp intake of breath, but she pressed on. "But I'll always remember you as the girl who could never stop talking on those same Saturday afternoons. I'll remember you as the girl who I got into a pancake fight with one morning. I'll remember you, always."
She felt Dan's arms wrap around her waist as she stepped back, and she allowed herself a moment in his embrace.
"I'm going to go," she said quietly. "I can't be here, when…"
She trailed off, looking down at her feet as the words hung in the air between them.
Dan merely nodded, and Vanessa watched the tears pool in his eyes once more. Dan had never been one for tears, had always been the one to lighten everyone's spirits when needed.
"I'm going to South America," Vanessa offered into the silence. It seemed that lack of tact seemed to go along with grief, but Vanessa knew no better way to tell him. "I was offered an assistant position in a documentary, and I'm going to take it."
Dan nodded again, a melancholy expression on his face. "I leave this Monday."
"That's right after Jenny's…" Dan's words trailed off once again as his eyes found his sister's broken form.
"I'm sorry," Vanessa offered. "I need to get away from here for a while. The job came at the perfect time, and I couldn't give it up. I'm sorry Dan, I just couldn't."
"I suppose I can't convince you not to go," Dan replied evenly, his voice betraying no emotion. Though his eyes told her that he didn't want her to go-if only because he needed her.
"I've made up my mind," Vanessa said determinedly.
"I need to get away for a while too," Dan admitted. "I don't know how I'll be able to go back to the loft after she's…gone. It won't feel the same."
"You need to stay here Dan," ignoring the warning look from him, Vanessa pressed on. "Georgina's due any day now, and though she says she doesn't need anyone, she needs you."
"Nothing," Dan muttered. "That's nothing compared to this. Jenny's gone, Vanessa."
The ice in his words chilled her to the bone, and she fought back the angry retort.
"I'll see you," Vanessa said instead, her words unsure and her knees shaky.
Taking one last look at the girl on the bed, she turned to leave, stepping towards her future.
…
"Eric," Chuck greeted, and Eric looked at his phone in surprise. Their last phone conversation had been awkward, to say in the least, with the elder refusing to answer Eric's questions as to where he had been. And their last encounter had culminated in hospital security pulling a screaming Dan Humphrey away from a glowering Chuck Bass.
"Chuck," he returned. "How are you?"
"I've been better,"
"I'm sorry for what happened, at the hospital yesterday." Eric said hesitantly, remembering his (step)brother's adamant refusal at an explanation. The limp, the cane, the disappearance-none of it had been divulged, even at Lily's insistent pleading "I didn't know Dan would-"
"Essentially try to knock me out once more? No harm done, little brother, I've learned to dodge Humphrey's punches."
"Chuck. About-"
"It's like my scarf. I think the cane adds a certain charm to being Chuck Bass."
"It's not the cane," Eric said tiredly. "Though why you're limping-"
"I hurt my leg," And at Chuck's defensive voice, Eric prickled.
"Where have you been?" Eric pressed once more. "No one's heard from you in weeks. Even you didn't disappear like this when…"
"When Bart died?"
"I didn't mean-"
"You did," Chuck said simply.
"Chuck, everyone was worried-"
"I was in Prague," came the reply. It was the most anyone had gotten out of him.
"What were you doing in Prague?" Eric asked, knowing the answer in the back of his mind.
"Trying to forget."
It was a patented Chuck Bass reaction. Only Eric knew that the drinking, the drugs, the women only added to the pain. They were like Novocain. They only dulled the pain for the shortest amount of time, and once the numbness wore off, the pain only intensified tenfold.
Eric knew this because once upon a time, Eric van der Woodsen had attempted to take his own life. Had sat in a bathroom with a razor to his pale skin, his fingers shaking as the tip of the blade pressed against his flesh. The harsh artificial lighting had glinted off the metal blade menacingly, but it was all forgotten when the tip of the blade bit into pale skin. He had watched in fascination as the red seeped out of his arm at an alarming pace, staining the blade crimson. Because the numbness wasn't anesthetizing enough anymore. It wasn't enough to take away the pain, or even to dull it. And Eric had believed that the only way to dull such continual pain was to end his existence.
But Eric had since learned that the only way to eliminate such pain was to learn to deal with it. To face it.
He could only hope Chuck would find the same revelation before his end met him.
"You're not forgetting."
"I'm not?" was the harsh reply.
"Running away doesn't mean you'll forget." Eric threw back. "It's a lot easier, isn't it? To run. To pretend. To forget. But it's never going to leave you."
The silence that greeted him worried him-if only for a moment. Because Eric knew that Chuck had not hung up.
Chuck had listened.
"It's never going to leave you," he repeated. "It's going to haunt you until you face it head on."
It was another two minutes before a barely audible sigh was heard.
"I was in an alley…"
…
Though Serena's guess had been somewhat true, Blair Waldorf was not kneeling over a porcelain bowl at the moment.
(But that didn't mean she wasn't about to)
At the moment, she was shoveling half a pie into her mouth, tears blurring her vision as she thought back on Serena's words.
She had known she would have to encounter Chuck again. They ran in the same circles, hell, he was her best friend's stepbrother after all. It was inevitable that she would have to see him, see his woefully handsome face and confront the very real reality. The reality that she had been betrayed, not once, but twice, by the one she had loved.
And it had hurt. A hurt that cut deeper than any physical injury, deeper than any pain she could inflict on herself.
…
"What happened to the ring?" Unable to grasp the enormity of the information that had been thrust at him in the most alarming matter, Eric could only latch on to the most surprising information.
"I've got four PIs looking for it," came the admission. "I'm going to find it Eric."
"Blair-"
"She'll never know."
Wincing at the blunt reply, Eric knew that his persuasion was futile-and a he attempted a different tactic.
"Blair's going to the hospital with Serena today."
"For moral support?" Eric could hear the attempted sneer in Chuck's words, but they fell flat. His voice was tired, as if he were bearing a burden too heavy for anyone else to bear.
"Would you…" Eric trailed off uncertainly, knowing his awkward question had been posed at an awkward time. But Eric had always had a knack for uncertain timing, for turning the most uncomfortable situations in his favor. "Dan won't do anything. Would you come along as well? I don't want to ask, but-"
"Yes."
"Yes?" Eric repeated, in the midst of thinking about what Chuck and Blair in the same room would entail.
"I'll go along with you."
His answers were laconic, almost as if he were holding back once more.
"Thanks," Eric replied, equally confused through his muddled brain. The past few days had moved at a sluggish pace. Almost as if Jenny were lurking around each corner, Eric would see a flash of white-blonde hair and jump a foot in the air. It hadn't set in. The reality hadn't full sunk into his mind yet, and a piece of him half-hoped that this was a dream. A nightmare that one would wake up to in a cold sweat, tears at the corner of your eyes, a realization that you couldn't bear to see them dead.
Lily's hovering-and Serena's once she had returned from France-had not helped in the least. The shock had not passed; the situation still slightly surreal; the reality was still slightly out of his reach.
But Eric knew that once the monitor stopped beeping, and the piercing sound of a flat line reached his ears, reality would come crashing down upon him as suddenly as the onset of a tropical storm.
The grey overtaking the misleading sunshine, the abrupt thunder and raindrops of silent tears, the cold yellow eclipsed by a bleak reality no one could accept.
The reality that Jenny Humphrey was dead.
…
Another wave of pain shot through his leg as he attempted a standing position. Gritting his teeth, Chuck moved towards his suitcase-and pain medication, the previous conversation running through his mind at breakneck pace.
He had always kept a strange bond with Eric-a brotherly bond that almost surpassed the friendship between him and Nate.
And Chuck had had too much experience in losing family members-his mother, his father, his uncle, and then a woman who claimed to be his mother. And when he was lying on a hospital bed in a decrepit hospital in Prague, he realized that he didn't want to lose them anymore. They were his family-Blair, Eric, Nate, Lily, and even Serena-and he didn't want to lose them.
Though he curious looks and the incessant inquiries would have to be answered soon. That much he knew. He just hoped that something acceptable would have entered his mind by then. He was Chuck Bass after all.
But as he sat down heavily on his bed, his medication clutched in one hand as he his breathing returned to normal, he wondered.
He wondered if he really was Chuck Bass anymore.
…
"The doctors have given us instructions," Rufus addressed the group in front of the room. "We can say our goodbyes, and then they'll-"
He broke off as a sob escaped his throat, and he collapsed once more into the chair, Lily patting his back comfortingly as tears streaked down her own face.
"We can go inside in a minute," she continued for her husband. "We'll be able to say our goodbyes, and then we'll leave Dan and Rufus alone when the doctors stop-stop the machines."
Serena nodded as her stomach knotted, her hands clenching as the emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Dan was nowhere to be found, having taken off an hour prior. He had promised to be back later in the night, but where he had gone would be anyone's guess.
She supposed that it was better this way, without Dan. For Chuck was here, had come in with his cane and Eric, the younger apparently needing the extra support. Serena couldn't blame him, knowing that she had asked Blair to come for the same reason. Blair, however, was nowhere to be found, though Serena had texted her half an hour prior.
In a chair across from Chuck and Eric, three seats down from her, sat Nate, his face ashen and his hands shaking. Having not seen him for three weeks, Serena couldn't help but study his face with curiosity. The boy she had known since childhood seemed to have disappeared replaced with stubble and slight lines around his eyes, puffy from lack of sleep.
As Serena leaned back, closing her eyes and tipping her head towards the ceiling, the quiet click of heels against the linoleum floor could be heard.
Three pairs of eyes, (Serena, Nate, and Chuck), turned to watch as Blair Waldorf approached the group slowly, dressed impeccably in a grey skirt and cobalt flats, the white trim on her navy trench coat nearly glowing in the dull hospital light. Of all of them, Blair seemed the least affected, the most put together. Her appearance was flawless, every strand of hair perfectly in place, and her face clean of tears.
But Serena knew better. She knew that perfection was Blair's way of falling apart, her way of dealing with the unknown.
It scared her to think about what might have transpired before Blair had appeared before them, and Serena simply pushed all thoughts out of her head as she hugged her best friend tightly.
"Thank you for coming, B." she whispered into Blair's hair. There was an almost medicinally minty aroma around her, as if she had used an entire tube of toothpaste in an effort to rid herself of a particularly horrid taste. And Serena knew what that taste could be.
But before she could make her suspicions known, Blair had moved towards, Nate, hugging him nearly as tightly as she had with Serena. Nate reciprocated, if hesitantly, his eyes watching Chuck warily over Blair's shoulder.
When Blair released him with a quiet smile, she moved towards Lily, hugging her as well.
"My condolences," Serena heard her whisper. "Lily, I hope you know how sorry I am that this tragedy has occurred."
Her words seemed practiced, as if rehearsed from a perfectly lined script. Lily did not seem to mind as she pulled Blair in for another hug, thanking her for her words. Rufus, however, did not move from this position, his face still buried in his hands.
On the other side of Rufus, Blair hugged Eric quickly, patting him on his head almost affectionately and offering the same words of condolence. She let her gaze meet Chuck's for a mere second, before turning back to Serena.
"Well," Nate cut in, looking from Blair to Chuck in a decidedly confused manner. "I think we should go in now."
Serena nodded, making her way towards the door and holding her hand out towards Blair. The brunette shook her head, almost adamantly, and sat down instead.
"I think it's best if I stay out here."
Serena opened her mouth to argue, but Nate held her back with a warning look, merely motioning her towards the door once more.
One by one, they filed into the room. First Serena, then Nate, Rufus and Lily following close behind.
Eric stood up as he watched the pair in front of him, partly in fascination at how their mere presence to each other would increase the tension in the room. He turned towards the door, looking at Chuck expectantly.
"Will you be coming in?"
"No," Chuck replied softly, his eyes still trained on Blair.
Eric nodded as he stepped inside the room. He had already known the answer.
The emotion inside the room was palpable, the tension thick and heady with grief. Rufus stood by Jenny's bedside, her hand in his. "You are my little girl," Rufus was saying. "You'll never be anything but."
He choked on the last words as his sobs overcame him, reducing him to a quivering shape hunched on a chair. Lily spoke up next, her hand still on Rufus' shoulder.
"You were never my daughter by blood-but I'll always consider you as one."
Nate opened his mouth to speak, but the words came out strangled, almost incomprehensible. Nate had never known how to articulate his feelings properly-and it seemed that today was no exception. "And I guess, when it all comes down to it…we'll miss you." He finished uneasily, watching Serena out of the corner of his eye.
Eric stepped over to his sister, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as she continued to stare ahead, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.
"We've had our differences," she began. "But you'll always be my sister."
Her voice cracked slightly on the word sister, and Eric knew that she had not always regarded Jenny as so. As the rest of the room turned to him, he cleared his throat uncertainly, still unsure as to what to say.
"Jenny," he said quietly. "You were my first true friend. You were always there for me-and I could never have told the truth if it weren't for you. I'll miss you, down to the eyeliner and too-long hair. Because you've never listened to what other people say-you were too ambitious for that. And I'll always miss that the most. You gave me courage when no one else could."
A strangled noise escaped Lily's throat, and Eric knew what his mother was thinking. Jenny had been there for Eric when no one else was-she had given him courage through her ambition; a will to live.
"I guess we'll just wait for Dan," Lily said quietly.
…
Outside the room, the two were locked in their own world, Chuck's eyes searching as Blair attempted nonchalance.
"Why are you here?" his voice was strained, as if he were holding back the words that he wanted to say.
"Serena," she replied monotonously. "Why are you here?"
"Eric," he replied, the volume of his voice matching hers.
"Last I heard Eric wasn't your biggest fan." Blair sniffed, still refusing to meet his gaze.
"He's had a change of perspective," Chuck returned easily.
"Would that have anything to do with your newest accessory?" Blair shot back, glaring distastefully at his cane.
When his only reply was a shrug, Blair's glare only hardened.
It continued like that for some time, the tension only increasing in the air as his fingers twitched, desperately wanting to tangle themselves in her silken locks.
"Blair I-" he searched for the words that would fix them. That would fix this situation.
Three words eight letters. Say it, and I'm yours.
"Blair, I lov-"
But he never got to finish his sentence, because it was at that very moment Dan Humphrey walked down the hallway, muttering belligerently as he shrugged off his coat.
He approached them as if unaware of their presence, but when he felt their eyes on him, he looked up with a glare to match even Blair Waldorf's.
"What are you doing here?" he sneered, and Chuck's first instinct was to retort, but he realized that Dan wasn't speaking to him-but to Blair.
"Serena," Blair replied evenly, though her shaking eyes betrayed her calm facade. "Serena asked me to come."
"Well I didn't," Dan said, venom in his words. "She wouldn't want you here."
Chuck watched as Blair grappled for control, grasped for words that couldn't placate Dan.
"Dan," he said warningly, and Dan turned the full force of his glare on Chuck.
"And you," he mocked. "Come to say goodbye to the latest notch on your bedpost? Or is she not the latest one? Probably not the last virgin you took advantage of either."
As he neared, Chuck could smell the distinct stench of alcohol, and he stood up slowly, his hands in his pockets.
"I didn't take advantage of her," Chuck told him quietly, his eyes flickering to Blair. She was sitting rigidly in her chair, her eyes welling up with tears but trained on her shoes-not on him.
"Like hell you didn't!" Dan growled. "What, Blair decided she didn't love you anymore and you had to go fuck the first girl to cross your path?"
"It wasn't-"
But Dan merely lunged for him once more, the scent of alcohol more prominent as Chuck easily dodged the blow.
"You already tried this yesterday," Chuck reminded the other boy, who was breathing heavily as he stared Chuck down. "You weren't successful even then. Just came out of nowhere, swinging punches at a cripple-"
"Stop," came her voice, distant and slightly lost, clinging to something he couldn't quite place.
"Dan," she said evenly, her face betraying no emotion. "Your family is waiting inside for you."
Dan turned to her in disgust, the detestation on his face clear as day.
"This is your fault," he spat. "Don't forget that, Blair; this would never have happened if it weren't for you."
Chuck had begun stalking towards Dan at those words, but he simply walked into the room without another backwards glance, his steps disjointed.
"Blair," Chuck started, moving towards her immobile form. The expression of fear seemed permanently etched onto her features, the guilt in her eyes eating away at his heart. "Dan's a prick. Don't listen to him, he's not-"
"Right?" Blair finished. Her voice was tiny, almost choked with guilt and laced with self-loathing. "Of course he's right. I killed Jenny Humphrey, didn't I?"
"You didn't do anything," he stressed, but she had already begun gathering her things.
"Tell Serena I'm sorry," she said in parting, turning to leave.
"Blair!" he called after her. He meant to run after her, to collect her in his arms and attempt to put the pieces back together. He meant to reassure her once more that it wasn't her fault, and that he was there for her, not Eric. Because if Dan's actions the previous day had meant anything, he had placed the blame on everyone but chance itself.
He meant to do all these things, but he stayed rooted to the spot, his cane useless on a chair behind him. It was not the shooting pain in his leg that kept him rooted to the spot, but the emotion clawing at his heart as he watched her form disappear. He watched her disappear until all that was left was the lingering scent of her perfume and the memory of her tears.
…
"What happened?" Eric closed the door behind him softly, the door Dan had disappeared through not moments before. "We heard a commotion and then-"
"Blair left," Chuck managed, his teeth gritted as pain shot through his leg. The pain had gotten worse as of late, and dodging wayward punches had not helped in the least.
"Which way did she go?"
"No," he ground out.
But Eric was already walking away.
…
"Dan-"
"What's-"
"We heard-"
The cacophony of words that greeted him when Eric had left were just that-words. They mattered little, though Dan had always believed words his greatest weapon. Once upon a time, Dan had sought comfort in the sanctuary of a clean sheet of paper and black ink. The ink flowed over the paper easily, weaving a story through the fibers and bringing life to the austere sheet.
But now, as his sister lay broken in a white hospital bed, Dan wanted nothing more than to cover the white walls in words. Words of comfort and despair, of pain and gut-wrenching loss.
But Dan had not written a single word since he had received the call.
The tears were relentless as he held up a hand, halting their words. Their meaningless, simple words.
Words didn't matter.
"Do you want to say anything?" Lily asked quietly, spotting the doctors hovering outside the room.
Shaking his head, he took his sister's hand in his.
Words couldn't save Jenny now.
…
"Blair!"
She turned at the sound of her name, spotting a head of dirty-blond hair as she stood, pulling the thin material of her sweater closer around her frail shoulders.
"Blair!" Eric called again, rushing towards her.
"I can't stay," Blair told him, barely regaining her composure.
"You need to know something."
"Eric, I can't sit out there while she's dying in there because of me and my-"
"Dan's grieving. He doesn't mean-"
"I shouldn't feel this way!" came the burst of frustration, the outburst he had not expected from Blair Waldorf. "I'm supposed to hate her. I'm supposed to want her dead. I would have done it myself, weeks ago. But now that she's actually dead, I can't-I don't want-"
"It wasn't your fault," Eric placated, feeling his own stomach clench as Blair attempted to wipe away her tears. "Blair, I need to tell you something."
Her tears had rendered her powerless, and Eric could only lead her gently to a bench.
"There's something you need to know about Chuck."
…
"Nate," Serena urged. "You have to eat something." She shoved the muffins towards him once more, having ignored his previous attempts to push her-and her muffins-away. Lily and Rufus had simply waved her off, and Serena knew better than to push her mother in this state. They had been with Jenny for another hour, an hour past the scheduled time. The doctors were growing impatient, though they allowed them the extra time-the promise of a Van der Woodsen donation had been too desirable to pass up.
She was working on Nate now, her mother-hen instinct kicking in and goading him into eating something.
Nate regarded her with tired eyes, and what had transpired between them almost a month ago seemed downright ridiculous.
She smiled slightly as Nate conceded, accepting a blueberry muffin from the proffered plate.
"Thanks," he said hoarsely.
"You're welcome," she whispered.
They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, each wanting to say something, but not wanting to be the first to talk.
"Nate," she began tentatively. "About us,"
"There is no us," he told her firmly, his voice hard. "You made sure of that."
"And you betrayed me," she retorted in surprise, slightly shocked by his sudden change in demeanor.
"Look, Serena. I don't want to argue about this. This isn't the place. We can-"
But he was left with a barely eaten blueberry muffin and a cold coffee as she left him alone, moving towards the direction of the bathroom.
…
Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail-an unusual hairstyle for Blair Waldorf, but completely practical in this situation.
She stood completely naked in front of her full-length mirror, studying her body closely. The preciseness of the act calmed her, helped her forget the chilling words that Eric had left her with.
Prague…ring…muggers…shot-
Shaking her head, she zeroed in on her shoulders, which were all right, she supposed, not too wide and slightly rounded, sloping into the delicate curve of her back. The curve of her lower back wasn't steep enough; shallow because of the extra weight she had amassed. Weight that now covered her hipbones, nearly obscuring them from view.
Her now almost-non-existent hipbones flowed into thighs that were just slightly too big, knees that were too knobby, and ankles that swelled before leading towards disproportionately small feet.
Having finished her scrutiny, Blair leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting her skin with a well-practiced eye.
There was a smattering of freckles across her nose, marring her once porcelain skin though they were barely visible.
There was the slightest of red bumps forming on her left cheekbone, and she noticed that her face seemed fuller, more round and completely bloated.
She frowned at the image in the mirror, willed herself to return towards a safer train of thought.
You are beautiful. She told herself calmly, but the words were stale in her mouth.
"…rode hard and put away wet…"
"…do you really need another éclair?..."
"…most beautiful woman I'd ever…"
"…why can't you be more like Serena?..."
"…went up there on your own..."
The jumbled thoughts, the flashing of painful memories, and the subconscious thought that she was never good enough all became too much to bear as she made her way into the bathroom.
Tears spilled over as she kneeled in front of the toilet, and she crouched over, arms shaking and legs quivering.
She made herself sick twice, until there was nothing left for her to vomit, the taste of bile bitter on her tongue.
As if in a trance, she stood up shakily, flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and made her way downstairs, only stumbling once.
She returned to her bedroom moments later, a half-full bottle of vodka in her hands. Her fingers had brushed past a bottle of vintage scotch, and her heart had tugged in protest.
And now, as she sat in the center of her bed, images and memories assaulted her, overwhelming her with Chuck.
The old-red tights, yellow striped shirt-and the more recent-bruised lips, mussed hair-blending together in a flurry of kisses and caresses that seemed eternal in her memory.
She winced as she took the first gulp, the alcohol burning down her throat, erasing her sins and cleansing her mind.
…
Dan and Rufus had stayed in the hospital room long after the doctors left, Lily joining them briefly, but not before urging the rest to go home.
Eric had stood on shaky legs and pulled his sister to her feet, managed to get them both into the car headed for the Van der Woodsen apartment without a word other than, "Home." He had nodded at Chuck's inquiring gaze, and Chuck knew that Eric had done what he had not been brave enough to do.
Serena's muffins had been abandoned on a side table, nearly untouched in their entirety.
Nate had stood helplessly by through this, and Chuck thought he saw a quiet tear in his best friend's eyes, but it was quickly brushed away.
He himself had not known what to feel, and had simply begun to stop feeling, to relish the emptiness in his mind and the dull ache in his chest.
And so, he found himself walking towards his suite at the Empire with deliberate slowness, his leg still painful, but hardly so. It was as if he wanted to prolong his suffering, as if he were doing penance for his actions.
But when he entered his suite with an aching sigh, the images of that night still assaulting him, he knew something was different.
Perhaps it was the hushed scent of Serge Lutens Gris Clair that barely lingered, though he believed that a figment of his imagination.
However, when he spotted a figure on his bed-a petite figure with mahogany curls, and wide, willing eyes-he knew that his imagination had not been at work this time.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, not harshly, but with a gentle reverence.
"I don't want to fight you anymore," she told him softly. "I don't want to fight us."
"Blair," he breathed, the relief and love creeping into his voice as he made his way over to the bed. He caught the scent of alcohol mixed with her perfume, and he frowned slightly."I love-"
"We're not good together," she told him almost tearfully, and his moments stilled. "But I can't deny that I need you. And I can't deny that I still love you, despite all that has happened."
He gathered her into his arms then, whispering into her hair "We'll fix this."
She shook her head almost adamantly, and her curls brushed across his hands, the feeling of the softest silk brushing against his fingertips.
"You can't fix everything, Chuck."
The scent of alcohol overpowered him now, and he leaned back to look at her. "Blair, have you been drinking?"
She nodded slightly, "I'm here, aren't I?"
She wasn't so far drunk that she was slurring her words or wobbling on her feet-but Blair Waldorf had never actually been a messy drunk. And Chuck had to wonder at the amount of alcohol that propelled her to come to his suite.
"Then where does this leave us?" he choked out. "I love you, but-"
"I don't know," she murmured. "I just know that I don't know what I would have done if that bullet had gone through your chest instead of your leg. If you had bled to death in that dirty alleyway thinking I didn't love you anymore."
"I truly believed you didn't love me anymore," he told her, his voice breaking. "I didn't care if I lived or died."
"But you have to care," she nearly begged. "Because even when you're out of my life temporarily, I can't bear it. And if you were out of my life permanently-"
"I don't know what I'd do either," he informed her. "I don't know what to do with myself without you."
"This is why we're not good for each other," she told him, tears shining in her eyes. "We're too dependent on each other, too reliant on the other's presence. But…" she trailed off, as if lost in thought.
"But?" he prompted. "I don't want to lose you," he added, as if begging her to finish. But Chuck Bass didn't beg.
"But we'll never be good for each other."
"I can be good for you," he promised her. "I'll change. I'll do whatever it takes."
She shook her head once more, "I don't want you to change. Ever."
A beat of silence passed once more, and he fought the desire to draw her closer.
"Where does that leave us?" he asked once more.
"I don't know," she repeated. "Tonight. We have tonight."
So shut up and dance with me.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked quietly, already making her way back towards his bed.
"Okay," he replied deferentially, because he knew he was powerless against her requests.
And so she unzipped her skirt and peeled off her shirt, and he handed her one of his shirts as he had customarily done so many weeks ago. She climbed into bed-the right side, her side-and he pulled a pair of silk pajama pants carelessly from its drawer, quickly pulling them on and slipping into bed beside her.
She turned to him, the moonlight illuminating her glazed, desolate eyes as lifted his arm around her.
She tucked her head beneath his chin, his heartbeat against her cheek as their legs tangled together familiarly.
"Blair-"
"Goodnight," she whispered, and he felt rather than heard her quiet voice, the sweet scent of her skin curling around his nostrils.
"Goodnight," he sighed into her hair.
Somewhere, in another room of the suite, a clock ticked, filling the empty spaces with its hollow noise. He listened to the sound of the ticking as her eyes fluttered closed against his chest.
He knew she was fast asleep by the sound of her rhythmic breathing, her quiet breaths lulling him into his own slumber. He fought against his drooping eyes, struggled to stay awake and savor the moment.
Because he knew come morning she would be gone, leaving with more than she had entered with.
tbc