Part 4

Blair Waldorf did not approach Chuck Bass for two days after that night. Once she had joked with her best friend, when she and Chuck were younger—not in years, but after the past few weeks it seemed to her that they aged decades inside—that if he did not return her words when she professed her love, she would fling herself off the Brooklyn rooftop she had intended to declare the three words she held so closely to her heart. She was afraid that if she did go back to Chuck and continue her chase right then, she would return to the 88-storey high building and find a way to make real her threat.

The only thing that could possibly stop her, she thought in those few hours after he had sent her away, knowing that he was circling his Thai prey with his irritating but irresistible charms, was the thought of the messy corpse that it would make. If she were going to die, she was going to leave a body as beautiful as she could make it.

Blair's lips curved. Meanwhile, she stopped in the night bazaar and returned to her hotel with eight bags of inexpensive couture blouses. Kati and Iz would go gaga over them, and it made her feel better at least to think about the life she left behind. Her clique was what she should be worried about, instead of a non-boyfriend who was bent on killing himself with grief, no matter what it cost her.

She told herself she would take a ride through the river market, and she did. Pathetically, a single woman in a large boat passing through boats loaded with tour groups. People waved at her, and took her pictures. She wondered what the tourists would caption her image on that boat, with her big straw hat, sitting at the center of the long empty boat.

With each thing she did, she wondered what it would be like if Chuck Bass were doing it with her. He would probably have bought more than she did in the night bazaar. And she would have probably scowled the entire time at the scents and sounds in the river market. The Basshole.

She should just pack up and leave, but she realized that when Chuck said that you did not give up in the face of true love, he did not cower and hide when she stung him with her words and decisions, when she flaunted Marcus in front of him. When she and Nate kissed, he had been right there whispering cautionary words into her ear.

So now here she sat in the hotel bar, thinking of the best way to approach him next. He used to say it a lot: he adored her scheming. Blair would show him that she still had it in her.

"I said club soda," she insisted firmly when a glass of vodka gimlet was placed in front of her.

"Compliments of the gentleman, Miss Waldorf," the bartender said.

Blair turned and saw the blonde man raise his glass to her. He was kind of cute. She had gone for his type once. She smiled at him, but pushed the glass back to the bartender. "Take it back. I'm not drinking any alcohol tonight."

When the club soda was placed in front of her, Blair nursed the drink and returned to her plotting. And then, a man occupied the seat beside her.

"Hello."

Blair turned and saw the suit. He looked Thai, fair-skinned with narrow eyes. She gave a small smile. "Hi," she forced, then turned back to her drink to show him she was not interested.

"I own the hotel," the man offered.

Blair rolled her eyes. Been there, done that. "Not now," she said smoothly. She slid off her seat, then told the bartender, "I'm moving to a booth."

She walked to the back of the bar and found a booth in the far end. She slid gratefully into the soft leather seat and placed her glass on the table. It had only been about fifteen minutes when another glass was placed in front of her. Blair almost growled in frustration. "Can you people not take a hint," she snapped.

"I have been in transit for twenty hours, and this is my welcome?"

Blair glanced up in surprise, and saw Nate Archibald standing in front of her. "Nate!" She rose from her booth and threw her arms around him. "What are you doing here? I told you not to come."

"Apparently, we are both bad at following orders." Blair gave a lopsided smile, then sat back down. Nate slid into the seat in front of her. "How could I not come when you sounded like that?"

"Was it that bad?"

"Let's just go home. Chuck likes to deal with his problems alone. He always did."

"You mean he always ran, don't you?"

Nate shrugged. "All I know is you shouldn't be here. You shouldn't let him drag you down."

And it was then that Blair realized that whatever he knew, it was so small against the whole truth. If he knew what Blair really felt, he would not say what he did. Maybe it was her fault. She never really came out and told Nate what she felt. She doubted Chuck confessed everything to his best friend. "You don't understand."

He reached across the table, then covered her hand with his. "Make me."

"I can't," Blair told him. "You're Nate."

"That's exactly why you can. I'm Nate. We are both eighteen and we spent ten years together. I was your boyfriend more than half my life. Considering I don't remember a lot of the first several years, you could say many of my first memories involved you." Blair cocked her head and considered his claim, and she knew it was true on her part as well. But lately—lately, memories of Nate just paled in comparison to the few moments with Chuck. "Nothing you can say or do can shock me." That much was a lie, she thought. Nate had been surprised with her decision to be with Chuck, but she guessed now he had etched that detail in her profile, and considered it now part of her personality. "Tell me. What's wrong?"

Blair took a large gulp of her club soda. She regarded Nate as she swallowed the drink. Despite the fallout between them, he had always been concerned when it came to their little circle—Serena, Chuck. He had only ever been pretty insensitive when it came to her, and she had forgiven it a long time ago and pegged it as part of being in a relationship you did not really want. She did it to Marcus after all. "Chuck is being a stubborn jerk," she started.

"That's not exactly new, Blair."

"And he says all these things to hurt me."

"That's a little new," Nate admitted. "I don't remember him ever being deliberately cruel to you."

He obviously never found out about that little scene at the bar when she came to Chuck after Nate dumped her. The Arabian comment had been so harsh she almost fled to France. He needed a shock, and she needed to confide. She couldn't say it even to Cyrus, and he had been the first person she had felt free to divulge her deepest secrets to without fear of consequences. Even to Serena, she had guarded herself. "I haven't had my period for eight weeks."

She watched as he slowly sipped his drink, then just as slowly placed the glass down on the table, right beside the wet ring it had previously left. "When?" he asked finally.

No need for clarification there. "The night before he left."

"Jesus, Blair, he must have been drunk out of his mind." And somehow it felt like an accusation. She was the one in her right mind then. She was the one who should have put a stop to it. "Have you taken a test?"

She shook her head. "I don't wanna know."

Nate frowned. "Is that why you came?"

Again, she shook her head. "I just realized two days ago." The night she went back to her hotel suite and collapsed crying on the bed, thinking of his night with the Banyan Tree hostess.

"He doesn't need this right now, Blair."

"I know. Don't you think I know that?" She took a deep breath, then picked up her club soda and downed the rest. She reached for the drink he had brought her, but he caught her hand.

"It's not virgin."

Blair gave him a thin smile. "Don't let Chuck hear that comment." Nate was amused enough by the wry, self-deprecation that he grinned. "Don't worry. I won't say a thing. I'm not going to have him come home because he got some girl pregnant. I've seen tv dramas like that. It's not exactly a brilliant plot twist, is it?"

"This isn't a movie you're writing, not a tv show. This is real, Blair. What will you do if you are?"

She blinked, then raised her hand for service. A waiter stopped at their booth, and she ordered another club soda.

"What will you do if you are?"

Her voice was soft when she said, "You don't really want to know the answer to that."

Wordlessly, he stood and transferred beside her. He reached for her and wrapped his arms around her, then dropped a kiss on the top of her head. The physical connection was familiar, and astounding to Blair as Nate's arms tightened around her. Ten years together and now that they were apart, it was the first time she felt this connected to him, felt this much empathy towards her coming from the boy she had come so close to being engaged to. She clutched at the front of his shirt and let the tears flow.

A moment later, Nate stiffened, then strained his neck to look around. Blair looked up at him. "What is it?"

"Did you see that?"

"What?"

"I swear I thought I saw a camera flash."

Blair sighed. The waiter returned with her drink. "It's Bangkok, Nate. Gossip Girl won't follow you here."

The city was just coming out of the holidays, and the hotel was still booked to the brim. Nate scratched his head as the concierge checked the other hotels in the area, coming up empty save for the smaller inns of the kind that she found Chuck in. Blair shook her head.

"You came here for me. The least I can do is to let you stay in my room." She looked back at the concierge. "Until a new one opens up. So please reserve the next room for Mr Archibald the moment it's available."

"Very well, Miss Waldorf."

Blair turned to Nate, only to see him glaring at a man who was seated in the lush armchairs near the lobby. A split second later, Nate was shrugging her hand off his arm and stalking towards the man. "Nate, what are you doing?" she shouted after him.

The man shifted in his seat nervously. He closed his laptop, then looked up at Nate. Without hesitation, Nate grabbed the man's shirt and hauled him up. Blair gasped, then ran towards the two.

By the time she reached them, Nate had delivered the first blow that sent the man sprawling on the floor. "Nate!" she cried. "What's wrong with you?"

"Tell her!" he hissed. "Tell her who you're working for."

Blair's eyes widened at the implication. She spied the digital camera plugged into the USB port of the laptop. She opened listed the screen and scrolled through images of her in the bar. Blair shuddered at the pictures of her with Nate, as she cried into his shirt, when she hugged him in welcome, even pictures alone as she sat in the bar. "He's spying on me." Blair skimmed through photos of her shopping. Every activity was recorded.

"No!" the man yelled as he saw the hotel guards closing in on them. "I'm guarding you."

"By taking my pictures?"

"I was hired to keep you safe. The pictures are proof, so I can get my money," the man stammered.

"Who?" she shrieked. Next to no one knew where she was. It was her mom, her dad, Cyrus, Nate—Chuck.

"Mr Bass. Mr Bass hired me."

tbc