Part 1

Bangkok was half a world away and a billion miles apart from home. Where New York bustled with people who strode quickly on no nonsense legs to a destination, Bangkok's crowded streets were populated by busy folk who bothered to reach out and wave her over. They peddled their wares like there was no tomorrow. Under the street lamps, their own little fluorescent tubes glowed, and Blair almost broke her steady pace to touch a golden trinket that she would never really use.

She had never been, but even if she did, Blair Waldorf doubted she would find herself in the same area. Soi 8 in Sukhumvit, situated just by the under the sky train, was far from any of the large hotels that her agent would have booked for her. Her mother would faint if she knew that her only child now walked in brown Prada through the cemented sidewalks that earlier in the day, a baby elephant had passed by.

Blair stopped in front of a small travel agency that had, taped to its glass windows, various pictures of Westerners in their hot spots. She wondered if these people knew back home that their likenesses were now used as free advertisement by the small company.

When the proprietor spied her, the short man stood and beamed, bowed and bowed until Blair bowed herself.

"Ayuthaya!" the man exclaimed.

Blair smiled, "What? I'm sorry, sir. English please."

The man shook his head, then waved his hand. He took a thick binder from the back of his desk and rifled through the laminated pages. He stopped at a page of wide open skies and ancient ruins. The man tapped his finger on the page. "Ayuthaya! Grand kingdom. You will like. What time we pick you up in hotel?"

"Oh!" Blair shook her head as she understood. "No. I am looking for this." She showed the man the picture that she had been carrying for four days, through the arrangements for her flight, through the horrors of finding out that she should have used another airport which was closer to her destination. It was a photograph of Chuck standing in front of what seemed like a two-star motel inn. Behind him, the name was lit. B ST CITY H TEL. It was so uncharacteristic of Bass to choose to stay in that, but then again, if in hiding, one had to be unpredictable. For that she applauded him. Even out of his mind with grief, Chuck Bass managed to put one over her. She had made Dorota call every five star hotel in Bangkok until she deemed them desperate enough to try the four-stars. "Best City Hotel?"

Apparently, the man understood enough English to determine that she was not going to book a tour. The man's brows furrowed in his displeasure. "Next street," he said, waving her away.

Blair managed to thank the man even with the attitude change. She stepped back out into the dark night and took a deep breath. Even so late, the city was alive and the air was warm. The sidewalks lined now even more with vendors deep frying foods she could not recognize. Blair watched appalled when one woman poured a jar of little creatures still jumping and alive into boiling oil. From a narrow alley, one man pushed a lighted cart on which hung several dozen colorful blouses. Written on a piece of cardboard tacked at the top of his products was the number 80.

Not even two dollars each. Blair recognized some of them in the small boutiques in the states. Sewing the brand name tag probably cost 348 dollars then, because a particular yellow jacket caught her eye in Manhattan carrying a price tag of 350. Blair hurried walking and turned at the next street corner.

There it was, in its broken lights. A four storey building proclaimed. It was the B ST CITY H TEL. She gave a lopsided smile. She swore she was going to hail a cab to make her way back to her own hotel in Sathorn, which was more her style. She started walking when she heard the loud noise of whirring motor directly behind her. Blair moved to the side of the street, but the motor sounded louder. She turned her head to glare at the man who was driving the motorbike.

"Tuktuk!"

Her eyes widened until she remembered what it said in the airline magazine she had rifled through on the way over. Blair said, "Best City." The driver nodded, and Blair climbed up in the passenger seat.

When she entered the Best City Hotel, there was no one in the reception area. Blair frowned, then spotted the bell. She hit it with a ding. Four seconds later, when no one came, she hit it again. Then one more time for good measure.

"Right here, madame."

Blair turned haughtily around and saw the woman walking towards her. The woman wore a uniform, with Beth on her nameplate. "Beth!" Blair said. "Great."

"Grateful I'm Canadian, right? Yeah," Beth murmured, "never understood why Westerners don't bother learning the language before they come. I have an open room with a twin bed," Alicia offered. Her eyes flitted to Blair's shoes up to her perfectly styled hair. "Unless you're expecting someone."

Blair's lips pursed. She was obviously meant to work for two-star hotels. "I'm not booking a room," she said sweetly. "I'm looking for someone."

Beth's eyebrows arched. "Honey, if you're meeting here, you're booking here. This isn't a pickup point."

Blair gritted her teeth, then placed the picture on the desk. "Have you seen this guy around?"

Beth glanced at the picture, then grinned. "That's Chuck Bass!" She crowed in delight. "He kept insisting no one was coming for him, you know? But I always thought that'd be impossible."

Blair's heart skipped. "Where is he?"

Bath nodded towards the makeshift hotel lobby that appeared almost like the common room in a college dormitory. Blair turned around. Her throat closed when she spied the brown head behind the back of the couch. A game show played on the television, and she was sure he didn't understand a word of it. Blair slowly made her way to him, then rounded the couch until she stood to the side.

There were dark circles under his eyes. His cheeks were a little hollow, and his hair was as much of a mess as it was before he had gone missing. He had not bathed in heaven knows how long. "Chuck," she called softly.

There was no reaction from him. He kept his eyes trained on the tv.

Blair stepped forward. "Chuck," she repeated.

And then, finally, his eyes flickered to her. His gaze ran hotly from her head to her toes. She shivered despite the humidity that gave her a thin sheen of sweat. Then, his face contorted. "What are you doing here?" he demanded in a softly menacing voice. "I told you not to come looking for me."

She gave him a small smile, to show him it was fine. She sat beside him then reached for his hand. He snatched it away, along with the bottle he gripped like a lifeline. "It's been a month, Chuck," she reminded him.

He brought the bottle to his lips and downed a mouthful. "So what? Don't tell me you tracked me down to tell me you're pregnant?"

Her back stiffened at the onslaught. She bit her lip. "I'm going to let that pass."

"Please don't," he replied with sarcasm.

Blair stood up and clutched her bag to her front. "You're obviously not ready to talk. That's fine." Blair turned her back on him and started to walk away. She paused when she reached the doorway. "I'll come back tomorrow. I hope you're sober then."

Blair continued on her way and stepped out of the motel doors. The street was empty now, despite all the lights. The throng of people, she knew, was at the end of this street along the main soi by the train. She barely made it five steps when she felt herself pulled swiftly back. She almost screamed, because she knew all the horror stories. She had no intention of falling into white slavery when all she needed was to get him and go.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed down at her.

Blair pulled her arm away, but he gripped tightly—almost as tightly as he had gripped the neck of his whiskey bottle. "I'm going back to my hotel," she informed him. "I didn't scrimp on my accommodations, Bass."

He relaxed his stance, but did not let go of her arm. "You are not walking alone in Sukhumvit in that."

She narrowed her eyes. "I look perfectly fine."

"You look like a victim," he said in a cruel and deliberate manner.

If she did, he was the cause, she thought. He was the reason for Bangkok, the reason she walked along unpleasant streets, smelled odors that made her want to retch, made her land in the north when she should have bought a ticket to Suvarnabhumi airport. But his wild eyes and unkempt hair, and memories of him clutching her arm as he cried, kept her own accusations at bay.

"I'm sorry if my appearance is unacceptable to you," she gritted out.

He leaned close, bent down, and her lips parted in anticipation. Instead of a kiss, he gave her harsh words. "Go home, Waldorf," he advised. "There's nothing for you here."

"I'm here because of you!" she protested.

Chuck released her arm. "Do we have to get it tattooed on the back of your hand?" he asked. "You're not my girlfriend. I don't need you here."

"Go ahead," she said calmly. She had learned from Cyrus, and she was prepared for this. Blair never thought it would be easy anyway. "Do your worst." Had it only been two months before that he challenged her and told her it was her turn to chase after him? They had both thought that ended on a Brooklyn rooftop. But this, here in Bangkok, or on the streets of Manhattan while she declared her love and heard nothing in return—this was the real chase. "You can't make me give up."

"That's too bad," he said softly.

Chuck turned his back on her and proceeded back to his pathetic hellhole of a motel. Blair turned away and started walking to the busy street, where she hoped she could get a cab.

"What are you waiting for?" he barked at her.

And she could not help but bite back, just a little. It didn't change the fact that she loved him though. "I'm looking for a cab, moron."

"I'm getting you a room," he said.

"Don't bother," she snapped.

Blair's breath caught in her throat when he turned to her with a stormy expression. He stalked towards her and grabbed her wrist, then pulled her along towards the reception area. "Give her a room," he told Beth.

"I don't want a room. If you can just call me a cab," she told the receptionist.

Beth smiled at Blair, then slid a key to Chuck. "Two choices. One gets another room occupied," she said to Blair by way of apology. In Blair's head, the motel just dropped to one star.

They rode the rickety elevator on the way up, and Blair involuntarily laid her hand on Chuck's arm to calm her nerves from the unpredictable stop and go. She looked up at him, and saw his eyes had fallen to her hand against his bare skin. "Blair, you shouldn't have come."

She turned her face away, then held out her hand for her key. It was a level above his, and she was at least grateful that she did not need to share his room. The last time they slept in one bed—

She shook her head free of the memory.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to reveal two Thai girls waiting with accommodating smiles. Chuck greeted them by name, then stepped out of the elevator. Blair watched, and could not hide the hurt in her eyes. His whisper was soft, and she thought he almost sounded guilty. "I told you not to come looking."

Blair held the door open and her chin up as Chuck wrapped his arms around the girls' waists. She made herself watch, and made sure he knew she watched, as he opened the door to his room and led the girls inside.

She flinched when she heard his door slam shut. Blair released the open button and allowed the elevator doors to close. When it opened to her floor, she did not step out. Instead, she pressed the button to the main lobby. She passed by the reception area and found it empty again. She turned her head and saw Beth sitting in front of the tv. Blair placed the key on the desk, then made her way out of the hotel.