AN: Thanks go out to bethaboo, who is the B to my S and a kickass beta. If you follow me on twitter, you'll know that I'll be taking a small break from Atonement. Say, one or two weeks? I promise I won't leave this story alone, and once I start up again I'll post more often. I just need to get my muse back for the story. In the meantime, I will be updating Recollection religiously. Also, as with Recollection I'll be sending out teasers for the next chapter to all my lovely reviewers. I adore you all.
The scent of Serge Lutens Gris Clair hung in the room when he awoke. And there was a moment between sleep and wakefulness in which his all too hopeful subconscious convinced him she was still there. A moment where he hoped to open his eyes and see her in his arms once more. He wondered if this was what it had felt like, when Blair had woken up that morning and he had been halfway to Shanghai. He wondered if it had been as hard for her to leave him as it had been for him to leave her that night. The thoughts swirling in his mind, Chuck opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the early morning sunlight. The shafts of morning light that bathed the room in a warm gold did nothing to alleviate the chill that had seeped into his skin.
Her side of the bed was still warm.
…
"Here," Serena set a cup of coffee in front of Dan, knowing that the black liquid would do nothing to tempt him.
"Thanks," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
They sat in silence for a little while, Serena picking at the lacy trim of her dress, watching Dan anxiously.
Contrary to his rather docile nature, Dan had been picking fights and throwing punches more often than usual (that is, he's punched someone other than Chuck). Serena knew that confronting him would be counter-effective; his sister had just died, and though Serena had always thought Dan's way of coping would include coffee, tears, and dozens of leather bound notebooks, it appeared she was wrong.
Dan's current way of coping eerily mirrored, well, Chuck's. His hair was mussed, his eyes glazed over, and his breath reeked slightly of alcohol. If Serena squinted hard enough, she could almost imagine that it was Bart's funeral all over again, and Dan and Chuck had switched roles.
Serena had been so absorbed in comparing the two that she forgot one difference-Dan was rambling. His eyes far-off and mouth slackened, he began to recount the ways this could have happened differently.
"-and if she had taken a different train. Or if I hadn't asked her to stay for the weekend. Or maybe if she had sat in a different seat. It's their fault, really. She shouldn't have been seated by the window. But when it all comes down to it, it's their fault."
The 'their' in this context was easily identified and didn't come as a surprise to Serena. Despite her and Nate's arguments, Dan remained a firm believer that Blair and Chuck had been at fault. And Serena knew that both Blair and Chuck faulted themselves as well, though Blair had tried to shelve the guilt and pretend it wasn't there and Chuck simply didn't acknowledge it.
"Dan," she said gently. "Blair didn't cause that train to crash. Neither did Chuck."
"She wouldn't be on the fucking train if it weren't for them," he all but growled.
Serena shook her head, repeating Rufus' words. He had been oddly calm throughout the whole ordeal, as if walking through the situation in a dreamlike state. "It wasn't their decision to put Jenny on the train. Rufus sent her to Hudson because-"
"So you're blaming my dad now?" Dan sneered, and Serena recoiled at the sound of his voice. Never before, even when he had assaulted Chuck, had Dan been this way.
"No, I didn't mean- what I'm trying to say, is…it's no one's fault. It was an accident."
Dan sighed, and Serena knew the bomb had been diffused for now-but he still didn't believe her words.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to lash out at you. It's not your fault."
Serena sighed in relief, knowing that the old Dan was back once more, if only for a brief moment.
"It's alright," she said brightly, covering his hand with hers.
She watched as Dan's eyes traveled down to their hands, his palm turning upwards and grasping hers. Serena flinched slightly, knowing his intentions yet unwilling to rebuff them.
But when Dan leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers gently, Serena's eyes widened, and she propelled herself backwards.
"Dan, I can't-we shouldn't-"
He looked at her almost apologetically, "Serena-"
" I'm sorry," she said quietly. "You and I…it can't happen."
"It's because our parents are married now, isn't it? I thought you never cared what-"
"No," Serena said, shaking her head. "Dan, you and I…that happened a long time ago."
"You still love him, don't you?" Dan asked, his voice unapologetic and brash-though Serena had a moment where she was glad the conversation had turned from Jenny's death. The only problem was, it had turned towards their relationship.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Dan, you were my first real love-but I think you and I are over. You have Georgina, and the baby on the way. We were never really meant to be. Just passing phases meant to show us who we truly are."
Dan raised his eyebrows, and Serena smiled slightly at the Dan-ness of the gesture.
"That's deep, Serena van der Woodsen," Serena shrugged nonchalantly at his words, then stood up with an apologetic smile.
"Will you be okay?"
And his world seemed to come crashing back down, the distractions gone and reality very much present.
"I'll be fine," he answered stoically, avoiding Serena's eyes as she left the apartment.
He watched from the window as she hailed a cab, her blonde hair streaming behind her as she stepped inside.
Dan refused to let his mind wander to the brunette currently staying in the Humphrey loft-the reason he was hiding out in the van der Woodsen's penthouse.
….
"Dorota," he acknowledged the maid, who was carrying a silver tray laden with croissants, yogurt, and strawberries. Chuck immediately knew what was going on-knew the only reason Dorota prepared such lavish meals was to tempt her Miss Blair into eating. It was with a heavy heart that he also recognized the steely look in Dorota's eyes, the one that told him he was unwelcome.
"Mr. Chuck," she returned stiffly. "Miss Blair is not receiving visitors at the moment."
Dorota had always been a avid supporter of Chuck & Blair, a fact he enjoyed taunting Blair about. But now, as Dorota glared at him in her own way, he knew that he had finally gone too far. No doubt Dorota, a subscriber of Gossip Girl herself, knew what had transpired. And he knew that she believed his betrayal had pushed Blair until she'd arrived at her current situation
"I'll wait," he told her stubbornly, meeting her glare with one of his own. "Tell Miss Blair I won't leave until I see her."
He took a seat on one of the velvet chaises, ignoring the muttered polish words that Dorota uttered as she stomped up the marble staircase.
He could hear the creak of the door as Dorota entered Blair's room, heard the coercion and the pleas. His stomach clenched as he heard Blair's adamant refusal, winced as he heard Dorota's resulting sigh and her descent back down the staircase.
"This is your fault," she told him, her accent making the words more punctuated as she glared him down. "You hurt Miss Blair."
"Dorota, I-"
But she turned without another word, and he could hear heavy footsteps as she walked in the direction of the kitchen. Tilting his head slightly, he waited until he heard the clang of pots against a sink, and he sprang to his feet, wincing slightly at the pain in his leg.
Making his way up the stairs as quietly as possible, having forgone his cane that morning, he listened closely for any sign of Dorota's return. Instead, he could only hear the faint sound of running water-a sound that only made his stomach clench further.
Her door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open quietly, noting that her bed was empty, the tray balanced precariously on the night table.
It was untouched.
Her bathroom door, however, was locked, the light spilling out from the crack at the bottom. If he listened closely, he could hear retching over the sound of running water, a sound that he was all too familiar with.
"Blair?" he called into the empty room.
"Blair?"
"No!" she nearly shrieked, and he could hear her scramble as he turned the doorknob.
She was standing in front of the toilet, a guilty expression on her face.
"Are you ok?" he asked, unsure as to what was going on. Blair had made a rather hasty departure after the dessert course was served, a departure that had gone unnoticed by both her boyfriend and best friend.
"I'm fine," came her voice, and suddenly the door was open, and she was standing in front of him with a bright, disarming smile on her face.
"You're not fine, Waldorf. Why did you leave?"
"Something in the salad course didn't agree with me," she replied brightly. "I'll be fine, go back to the dinner."
"But-"
"Seriously, Chuck." Her voice was snide now. "I'll be fine, go back."
He frowned as the door closed in his face, and instead of following her orders; he sat on her bed in adamant refusal.
When he heard the retching on the other side of the door, he knew what was going on. The running water continued on.
The water stopped almost immediately, and he could almost picture her look of distaste on the other side of the door. He heard the quiet shuffle of footsteps and suddenly the door was open, and she was standing in front of him in a silk robe.
"I told Dorota not to let anyone in, least of all you." She sneered, but he was undeterred by the venom in her voice, concentrating instead on how very tiny she looked in front of him.
"What were you doing?" he asked, a note of accusation creeping into his voice.
She brushed past him, making her way to her closet on shaky knees.
"None of your business," she told him.
"This isn't any of your business. I told you to go back."
"I heard you," Chuck said instead. "I heard you inside."
"This doesn't concern you," Blair bit out. "Go away Chuck."
"This doesn't concern you."
"It does when you're wasting away to nothing," he told her angrily. "I thought you were stronger than this."
"This doesn't concern you," she repeated. "What I do now doesn't concern you anymore, no matter what your increasingly inflated ego tells you otherwise."
"Blair." He stressed. "I'm not going to stand by and watch you self-destruct again."
"I'm not asking you to," she retorted. "I'm asking you to leave. I told you to stay away from me, remember?"
"I'm asking you to leave," she pressed again, hating the adamant expression on his face.
"You forget who you're talking to."
"I don't." Blair said exasperatedly. "Why did you even follow me here Bass?"
"I was wondering where Nathaniel's perfect girlfriend had run off to in the middle of a society dinner. I was hoping I'd find you back here with your secret cater-waiter boyfriend."
"Sleeping with the help?" she wrinkled her nose. "That's your forte Bass, not mine."
"Ah," he said. "But they can be so very…helpful."
Shuddering delicately, Blair stood up and made her way over to her mirror.
"You can leave now."
He opened his mouth to protest, but she only shoots him down with a glare.
"You're perfect," he said quietly, making his way past her towards the door. It was only when he was almost out of earshot did she reply.
"You didn't mean that."
"You didn't mean that," he countered. "You certainly didn't have the same frame of mind last night. And you and I both know you didn't mean what you said outside of the hospital. It will never be that way with us, we're too-"
"Inevitable, I've heard this before," she said with a wave of her hand. "Only you hadn't slept with Jenny Humphrey."
She clearly meant to say the girl's name with venom, but it came out as a half-sob, another reminder of the role she had played in the girl's death.
"I'll fix this," he promised her again. "Whatever it takes, I'll fix this."
"Not this time," Blair told him quietly. "I told you last night, you can't fix this."
"But I lov-"
"Don't say it," she warned him. "Just don't. They're just words, they don't mean anything."
"Three words, eight letters," he reminded her. "Do you know how hard we worked for them? They aren't just words anymore. Not to us. Last night, when you said them to me, they meant something."
"Last night was a mistake," Blair told him. "Now leave."
He opened his mouth to argue once more, but her quelling glare told him the conversation was over. The ringing of his phone distracted him for a moment, and he very nearly declined the call, though the name stopped him.
Lily van der Woodsen.
"I'll be back later tonight," he assured her. "I'm going to fix this Blair."
She merely turned her back on him as she resumed her trek to the closet, her head held high.
It was only when she heard the faint ding of the elevator, did she crumple to the ground once more.
She hadn't done it, though she knew what the situation had looked like to an outsider, especially to him. She had gripped the edges of the porcelain bowl tightly, her eyes closed as she willed herself to be strong once more.
She had been on the brink of falling into the cycle once more, had already begun dry heaving into the bowl when she'd heard the knock.
Blair didn't want him to save her again-couldn't allow him to play the role of savior when he had been the one to break her in the first place.
…
The van der Woodsens' penthouse was quiet, an air of misery lingering around the plush couches and marble tabletops. There palpable sadness consuming the air around him, Chuck Bass stepped out of the elevator with an apprehensive sigh.
"Charles," Lily said in relief. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Where's Serena?" Chuck asked dubiously. As Eric's flesh and blood sister, this was her responsibility as well.
"With Dan. I haven't called her yet." Lily faltered for a moment, then offered a weary smile. "I thought you were my best bet."
At Chuck's dubious expression, Lily continued. "You're his brother," she told him simply. "Whether by blood or by marriage, it doesn't matter. And as much as I love Serena, she wouldn't know what to do in this situation."
His stomach clenched at the word brother. He had always regarded Eric as one, ever since the wedding, but Lily had never openly told him so.
"You're family," Lily reminded him softly.
The word caught in his mind and stilled his thoughts, if only for a moment. But in that moment, he understood. He understood family. And he understood what it meant to never give up on them.
At the look on his face, Lily nodded towards the hallway. "He's in his bedroom. He's locked the door, but I don't think he's-well, there are no sharp objects in his room. I had Elliot remove them all this morning. And I haven't heard any running water."
Chuck nodded; making his way towards the direction of Eric's room.
It seemed he was assuming the role of savior today.
…
Blair sat on the edge of her bed as she resisted the urge to look in the mirror, knowing that once she did her resolve would crumble to dust.
Instead, she focused on re-writing the scene that had played out hours before.
She hadn't known the words were flying out of her mouth until they simply were. It wasn't that Blair didn't want to be with him-it was simply that she couldn't trust him with her heart once more.
The only problem with that was, he already had her heart, whether he realized it or not.
She just couldn't forgive him yet. Not yet. Not while the memories of that night were still fresh in her mind, still plaguing her dreams and assaulting her every thought. Not while Jenny Humphrey's funeral had been planned for the following Sunday.
The problem with forgiving Chuck was the fact that she knew she would eventually. And she rebelled against that instinctively; rebelled against the fact that they were inevitable.
Her reasoning behind going to his suite the past night was that she was drunk. But less than a third of a bottle of vodka wasn't enough to render Blair Waldorf drunk. It did make her slightly intoxicated, but not so drunk that she couldn't be held responsible for her actions.
It was a trigger, that had propelled her to visit him. She had spotted something winking at her from the jewellery box on her vanity. Maybe it was the alcohol that had propelled her to investigate.
She wished that she had just left well enough alone and dismissed the glinting entirely. It had come from a necklace, the necklace, to be exact. The Erickson Beamon he had given to her so many years ago, that moment on Kati's brother's bed almost a lifetime ago. They had been so young then, so foolish to believe that butterflies existed.
When in truth, butterflies didn't exist. Only the all-consuming, terrifying love between them that altered its shape to fit the current situation existed between them.
The necklace in her hands, the diamonds cutting into her flesh, Blair stumbled back to her bed, the tears already pouring down her face.
She could tell Serena she was over him, could exclaim that she had never loved him, and she could deny what they had.
But it was useless, futile, and utterly hopeless to do so. Blair Waldorf didn't do mediocre or halfway measures. And what she and Chuck had was completely out of her realm of possibility. She had believed in white princes and true love before Chuck. Only after she had been enticed by a dark prince that she realized what true love was.
True love was standing by someone in their darkest moments. It was forgiving and forgetting because what had occurred in the past was to stay in the past. It was staying and fighting even if running was easier and they were just damn tired.
As she clutched the necklace tighter in her fist, the thoughts swirling around her head mercilessly, Blair realized that she missed him. For all intents and purposes, she missed him.
It was that thought that propelled her to call for a car and make her way to his suite at the Empire; the same suite he'd had to envision her and Jack in, the same suite she'd had to envision him and Jenny in.
There was no other thought in her slightly inebriated mind other than the fact that she needed him.
He had held her gently, almost as if she would break with the slightest of pressure, and Blair had sighed in relief when sleep had finally claimed her without the use of sleeping pills.
Come morning, the dull pounding in the back of her head matched the dull ache in her chest, a moment of clarity assaulting her mind.
She had untangled herself from him-a feat in itself as they had always slept intertwined and impossibly tangled.
And she had left the suite moments later, holding back a sob as she hailed a cab. Blair knew that the night had consequences, knew that Chuck wouldn't just let this go-because Chuck Bass didn't work that way.
She looked up from her feet as she recalled the look on his face-the look of determination that she knew all too well.
It was a look of resolve, and Blair knew better than to fight it. As much as she wanted to forgive him, she didn't want to forgive him. And his resolve to fix them only made things worse. She was a jumble of hopelessly knotted emotions; emotions that she herself could barely figure out.
But there was one knot she had unraveled slightly, one small hurdle that she had overcome.
You see Blair Waldorf had not purged once today, despite Dorota's assumptions and Chuck's theories.
She may have needed Chuck, but that didn't mean she couldn't save herself.
….
"Eric," Chuck said softly. He knew the younger boy was inside the room from the sound of the quiet pacing. "Let me in."
He could almost see Eric shaking his head as he paced, an expression of disbelief on his face.
"There's nothing stopping me form breaking down this door," Chuck warned. "Eric, let me in."
There was an audible sigh of frustration now, and Chuck smiled slightly as the footsteps neared the door.
"The only thing stopping you from breaking this door is the fact that you can't." Came Eric's slightly playful reply, and Chuck couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him.
"You underestimate me greatly, little brother."
And the door swung open, revealing Eric in a completely normal manner, his hair slightly disheveled, but otherwise completely intact.
"Chuck," Eric deadpanned. "We all know the only physical activity you participate in is the kind involving a bed and…well, Blair."
The mention of her name sent his mind spinning once more, but Chuck shook his head slightly and focused in on Eric once more.
"Lily's worried about you." He said flatly.
"She has no reason to be," Eric said dryly, though Chuck could read the pain below his amusing façade. "She had all the sharp objects removed from my room, and I'm pretty sure she would shut the water off if she could."
"There's-"
"I just need space," Eric explained hastily. "Space, Chuck. I'm not going to kill myself."
The last sentence was sardonic, dry. The callousness of it caught at Eric's words, and made them almost foreboding.
"We're all worried about you," he said instead, his words sounding false to his own years.
"I'll be fine," Eric said with a merry wave of his hand. For someone whose stepsister had died the night before, he seemed oddly nonchalant. Chuck knew that Eric didn't do well in expressing his feelings either, preferring to hide behind a mask of funny retorts and witty remarks.
"We're family," Chuck said, repeating Lily's words from before.
"We are," Eric said in surprise. "But we're not the only family you have Chuck. You know what."
He really did.
"I'll be fine," Eric repeated once more. "I just need time. I need to wrap my head around this."
"You'll call?" Chuck asked quietly. "If anything…"
"I'll call," Eric placated.
Chuck nodded, and he turned around with as the door shut behind him once more.
"Well?" Lily asked nervously, sitting at the kitchen counter with an uneaten bagel before her.
"He's going to be fine," Chuck said smoothly. "He just needs time."
"We all do," Lily agreed. "Charles, are you-"
"If you'll excuse me," he said apologetically, still making his way to the elevator. "I have something else to attend to."
Lily waved him on, the look of worry on her face had lessened slightly, and she was now picking at the bagel before her.
Something Eric had said had stayed with Chuck, rang in his head until he couldn't ignore its truth any longer.
We're not the only family you have.
…
"What are you doing here?" she asked coldly as he stepped from the elevator. There was a heavy plate in her hands, the smallest slice of pie adorning the plate. Her left foot was poised on the first stair-and she looked to be in the midst of a forkful of pie.
"I told you I wouldn't be gone for long," he told her simply. The heavy plate in her hand quivered dangerously, and her shoulders trembled in time with the frantic beating of his heart.
"I didn't want to see you then. I haven't changed my mind." She replied, mimicking his tone. But he's always been the only one who can see past any wall she builds to protect herself. He walked forward slowly, holding her gaze as he stepped up beside her, blocking her way up the stairs.
"That's not what you said last night," he retorted. The moment the words left his lips he regretted them. It hadn't been the right thing to say. No, it had been the Chuck Bass thing to say.
"That was a mistake," she all but growled, attempting to brush past him at the same time he took a step towards her.
Attempting to take a step back, Blair frowned slightly as her vision clouded slightly, the foyer swirling around her in an indistinguishable mess. And it was only when she stumbled and tripped that she realized something.
It was only when she heard Chuck's cry of "Blair!" and her vision tunneled out until she could only see his concerned face, that she realized something.
It was too late to voice her realization before everything went black.
She should've eaten today.
tbc