AN: Seriously. I meant to finish this story today. I was wrapping up so nicely. But dang if they don't just have too much to do and say and resolve and want. But I promise, there will be an ending and soon. My goal still remains. An ending before the next ep. I do want to say, it takes a lot of heart to write, and sometimes I sink into the same mood my characters are in, so it sometimes takes longer to write and so there are delays. Thank you for understanding. – This one is for CarolCB because she's going to be the first of all of us to experience Christmas and she rocks.

Part 13

"I have a surprise for you," he informed her one day, when he met her at the gate after school was out. "Get in. It's too far to walk."

When Chuck said it, she thought he would finally take her to his AA meeting. He had been to four of her sessions with her doctor, and she had never been to one of his meetings. Whenever he told her he would not be able to meet her after school, there was a slight twinge of jealousy that came to her. It was silly, because in all her life she had never been more secure of anyone than she was of Chuck Bass never leaving.

But that was how she felt about her daddy too, and he had traded her for Roman and an idyllic life in France.

She shook her head. That session was long over, and her abandonment issues were nonexistent, she told herself emphatically.

Still, maybe it would be nice if Chuck could take her with him even once.

"You would be bored out of your mind," he had told her. His little reason for not taking her, and she just knew it was an excuse that didn't really fly.

And so when he surprised her with the invitation, her mind immediately leapt to the conclusion. Blair Waldorf is going to attend her first AA meeting. And it meant that Chuck needed her.

She had brought it up to Dr Silverman once, in that one session when Chuck's schedule clashed with the time that she was able to block with her psychiatrist, that she might not be prepared to join his AA meetings. He had been mad as hell about the timing of that session too, and she had neglected—well, she had meant to, but that did not matter—to tell him that she had specifically requested for the schedule because she wanted to talk about him.

"I haven't binged in ages," she told her doctor. "And since I came back to school, I've thrown up once."

It had been after she received her acceptance letter to Yale. She had hurried to the Palace. Like always, she slipped her own key card into the slot and pushed the door open unannounced. Blair spotted him at the kitchen, behind a blender as he poured his own concoction of sliced fruits. She had squealed like a child in Christmas morning, rifled through a stack of envelopes on the coffee table, only to find nothing in his mail.

"I haven't applied anywhere, Blair," he had informed her, like it was the most reasonable thing for him to say.

She had blinked at him in disbelief, because this was not part of the plan they never talked about. He talked about families and marriage like they were the most obvious thing in the world, but he never told her this!

"You're not coming?" she said at the same time that it sank in her head.

Chuck shrugged. "I'm running a company. I'll take courses here. There are distance learning programs that I can take from the best colleges in the country. They'll all be itching to take on the CEO of Bass Industries."

It could have been panic. Actually, now, she was sure it was panic. From the day he came back, she had been clutching at him, grasping at his sleeve, that she never thought about this. He recognized the fear that had crept in, and he poured the smoothie he had made into a glass, then walked over and handed it to her. "You never really thought I would have made it if I applied to Yale."

"I thought you'd come with me. Or applied somewhere else in the area," she said weakly.

"Waldorf," he said, his voice firm, insistent, "this doesn't change a thing."

How could there be so much she still didn't know about him?

"We'll call. I'll visit you," he assured her. "I'll be there so often you'd want to kick me out of your apartment."

Why did it feel like she was pushed under the surface, choking on water and chlorine and everything else so awful that the stench of them clung to her skin?

"You know I'll need to call you a lot to hold myself together," he told her.

And she just knew he was lying. He was lying to her and she should be offended that he needed to lie. He did not need her at all. He was fine. And she had fallen so far off the track. Her voice was cold, and it was probably the first time since he came home that she just knew she could insult him and hurt him and batter him with words and he would not root around for a bottle. And she hated that all she wanted then was to vomit the nerves away.

She came home that night and did just that, and hated herself because she knew, Chuck hadn't even touched a drop.

'I'm serious,' he texted her. 'I'll need you.'

And she would never tell him that one lapse, not ever. She washed her mouth and slept and went to school the next day as if nothing had happened. And for all he knew, they healed and they progressed and it was perfect.

When Blair Waldorf decided to stand by anyone, she stood by them in whatever they needed from her. When it was Serena, she was prepared to harbor her best friend even when she believed Serena had killed a man. When it was Nate, she had stood by him even as she suffered through the knowledge that he had slept with her best friend.

And neither of them would compare to what she was willing to do for Chuck. She had nearly killed herself breaking through to him, and had lapsed into old self-destructive habits because of it. And still she was willing to do anything.

Even if it meant holding in the urge to vomit until she could feel the bile rising in her throat.

"I have a surprise for you," he told her, and she had placed her hand in his and let him pull her into the limo.

Blair had come with him to the tall building that sat about ten minutes away from the Palace, and wondered how an AA group could afford to rent a space in what was obviously a luxury condominium in the Upper East Side. He strode into the building as if he owned it.

And then she stopped, tugged at his hand, making him turn around. "Chuck, what is this?"

He turned back to her jerked his head towards the elevator. "I want to show you something."

She entered the elevator cab with him, and he pressed the button to the penthouse. The building was seventy stories high, and thus the speed of the elevator was more than she expected. Her hand automatically rose to rest on his arm for support. His eyes fell to her hand on his arm, and she was reminded of the short ride in the rickety elevator in Bangkok. She had held onto him, and he walked away with two Thai girls.

"This is where we're going to live," he told her, his voice strong with his confidence in that part of the future.

Her lips parted. "You bought an apartment."

"Jack decided we'd put some money into New York real estate," he informed her. "I didn't buy us an apartment. I bought us a share of this building."

"A share," she repeated.

"I can name the building Bass Highrise," he said, and somehow made the name sound sleazy, "and no one can veto me."

Blair allowed him to pull her with him out of the elevator and into the furnished penthouse apartment. She looked around her and noted the draperies that she was sure he didn't pick, at the furniture that seemed to blend perfectly with the ones in her own room. It was so obviously done to feel and look as far from the Palace as possible.

"No more hotel suite," she murmured.

He held tightly to her hand and pulled her to the windows, which were floor to ceiling made of glass. "Look," he whispered into her ear. And she did. And New York was as breathtaking as she remembered, even more so from this high up, in what he promised would be home, with him holding her hand. The black night would never be black in this city, and she marveled at the thousands of little lights brightening the horizon as far as she could see. "Don't you see yourself living here?"

"It's gorgeous," she allowed, choosing her words carefully, sounding them out in her head before saying them.

She felt his fingers move from her left arm down to her wrist, and he turned her hand so he could see the ring on her finger. Blair saw the diamond wink at her. "Let's live here," he said again, and even though his voice sounded impulsive, she knew he had been waiting to say it from the moment he picked her up.

She turned around in his arms, and cupped his face with both of her hands. She looked him in the eye and told him, "Chuck, this is crazy. We're eighteen."

"How old is acceptable to you?" he asked in return.

And for a moment, she was stumped. And then, she managed, "Twenty four, maybe?"

He covered her hands with his, and pulled them down so he could hold on to them. "What do you expect to change in six years?" he challenged. "What will we have then that we don't have now?"

"People wait for a lot of reasons," Blair explained, and with each statement she just knew her voice sounded weaker.

"They wait so they can work and get some financial security," Chuck said. He scoffed, because even while he said it he knew how ridiculous of a reason it was to use with Chuck Bass. "They wait so they can figure out if they're really in love."

The last point was so inapplicable she skipped it altogether. "They wait so they can go to college and have real jobs and experience real life."

And he didn't want to go. And he would let her go just like that.

Empty promises of a life together when he knew, he really did, that she couldn't stay here—no matter how beautiful it was. Her life would be in New Haven and his would be on the top of New York City.

"You think you can't do all that if you're with me?" Chuck shook his head. "Go to college," he told her. "Work if you want to. Experience life. With me," he finished.

The way he looked at her then, at that moment, with his eyes glittering with his passion—it was something she would tell her grandchildren. She just knew that look would stay with her forever. "This is ridiculous," she said softly, her voice already soft with defeat.

He took her to the bedroom, and showed her the wide master bed that was covered in a wine-colored comforter. And for the life of her, she could immediately imagine waking up from under those wine-colored blankets and hearing his heart beat beside her ear.

"Do you want to see why I stopped drinking?"

Chuck offered her his hand and she gave him his. Chuck took her towards a corner of the room, then opened the door. And then they were standing in a walk-in closet, surrounded from wall to wall to ceiling to floor with mirrors. Every little girl's dream.

She met his eyes in the reflection. Blair cocked her head to the side.

"This is it, Blair," he said softly.

"The mirrors?"

"Look at them," he instructed.

She stared back at the mirror in front of her, and saw herself from head to toe. Multiple Blairs, reflecting each other in the mirrors and multiplying into tiny reflections within reflections. Blair winced at the sight of her ankles, because they were too fat in the shoes she was wearing. Her hand went to her hip, and she smoothed the side of the skirt.

"See that girl?" She nodded. "She's perfect."

She bit her lip. He turned her in his arms, and repeated, "Go to college. Work if you want to. Experience life." He pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Here with me or in New Haven like you planned. This is waiting for you."

And he was so perfect, she thought. He kept saying she was, but now she could not deny it. He was healed, and he was wonderful, and he was far better now than she was.

"You're the reason I choose not to drink."

She had become such a shadow of who she was. If she stayed, he would discover that.

He would break her heart, and she wouldn't even be able to blame him when he did.

She looped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down to her for a kiss. His lips parted over hers, and she took a deep breath because even if he did not know it, these would be the last few times. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt the tears fall from the corners of her eyes.

"I love you," she breathed.

Her hands rested on his shoulders now, and she ran her palms over his shirt. Eagerly, she undid the buttons of his shirt. Chuck's fingers undid the pearl buttons of her school blouse, then pulled the tucked hem from her skirt.

"Let's go to bed," he said.

And she shook her head, because even walking would take too long, and would take her out of this.

She reached for him, pulled his belt free from the loops, undid the zip on his pants and let the black cloth fall to the floor.

Her head fell back when he pulled her down with him. He lay on his back and helped her settle over him. Blair stared at their dozens then hundreds then thousands of reflection on reflection on the mirrors. And then, she opened her eyes and stared directly into her own eyes as she looked above them, at the reflection on the ceiling. Her thighs spread out over him, straddling him, and he held onto her hips, his jaw tense, his lips gritted slightly in effort.

Blair looked down at him, and her hair fell down both sides of her face until they were like curtains hiding them from the world outside.

"I love you," she cried out, when he pushed his hips up and she felt him inside her, sliding in so smoothly it brought tears of sensation from her eyes. Blair stared back into his eyes, knew just past the curtain of her hair, her body was reflected as she moved over him in a steady rhythm that he matched.

She felt him pulsing inside her and recognized the intent glaze in his eyes. His hands around her hips grew tighter. Blair's hand closed over his as she almost bounced on top of him, searching for her climax before he found his. And he beat her to the finish, sending a hot stream of himself inside her body. The heat of the fluid that spewed inside her was enough to push her, and she finished with a cry of completion, her eyesight grew black, and she found herself collapsing on top of him in a mass of limbs and hair.

Blair tried to catch her breath, lying limply on top of him. She opened her eyes, and saw her reflection tangled with him, naked, sweaty. And he was utterly beautiful when he reached down and pushed the hair off her shoulders and blew a steady stream of cool air on her moist neck. She shivered.

"Tell me this isn't home," he challenged her.

Blair closed her eyes and held tight. Only a few months until graduation. She would hold tight until she couldn't anymore.

"I was going to give you something," he said. "That's why I brought you here."

Blair murmured something unintelligible, but kept her eyes closed, her arms around him, her cheek pressed against his chest. She felt him move under her, but she did not lift her weight off. She heard the clatter of a belt buckle, and knew he was taking something from his pants.

And then she felt it, the cool round plastic that he slipped in her hand. Blair opened her eyes and looked down at the badge that made him so proud. "Three months sober," she read. Blair clutched the proof of his state close to her chest, and felt the tears fall until she knew his chest was wet.

He probably figured she was completely elated.

And she was. She truly was.

He was all better.

Blair Waldorf was going to Yale.

tbc

Merry Christmas, everyone.