April 2nd, 2015

For the first six months of his lucky life, Henry Charles Nathaniel Bass had been as delightful as a baby could possibly be. There was nothing Chuck and Blair could complain about; aside from the fact that he was tremendously spoiled (which, much to Blair's dismay, had been inevitable and quite predictable), Henry was a joy. He had blessed his parents with a serene yet lively nature and an exceptional intelligence, reaching all of his milestones early and making their hearts swell with pride at every small – but enormous – conquest. He had been sleeping through the night since he was three months old, he knew how to smile and laugh, how to roll over and sit without support, he grasped most of the objects successfully and his first meeting with solid food – the best mashed potatoes the Basses' chef had ever cooked – had been positive. In other words he was, according to everyone, the perfect baby boy and every parent's dream.

Then, all of sudden, a week ago Henry had unexpectedly turned into a nightmare. He had become particularly irritable and unsettled; he wouldn't sleep easily and he refused to eat, which had worried Chuck and Blair terribly and convinced them to contact their pediatrician immediately.

Dr. Henderson's diagnosis had been quick and precise: Henry was perfectly fine, he was simply going through the painful but completely natural process of teething and, as he had explained to the extremely concerned couple of young parents, there was a little they could do about it, if not trying to ease they're baby distress and be prepared to face some restless nights.

Once reassured that there was absolutely nothing wrong with Henry's health, Blair had started to manage the situation in the same way used to deal with a family crisis; combing strength and readiness with her extraordinary caregiver qualities. It was just another milestone, she had told herself, a sign that her baby was growing strong and healthy, and her job was to keep him as comfortable and as happy as possible.

Chuck, on the other hand, wasn't prone to have the same stoicism. He normally couldn't bear to see or even just to hear his son crying (which usually ended with his wife complaining about the fact that he was pampering the baby), but being aware that Henry was in pain and that there wasn't much he could do about it was driving him crazy. If there was something Chuck couldn't stand, and something he wasn't used to, that was knowing that he was powerless.

Which was exactly how he felt in that moment, as he tried in vain to console a desperate Henry. It was half past midnight on a Thursday, he hadn't slept more than four hours per night in the past three days and he was feeling beaten other than completely hopeless. While his words and tender cuddles had always managed to soothe Henry, now they didn't seem to make any difference. His son's face was red and tear-streaked and Chuck was completely heartbroken in front of that sufferance and his inability to alleviate it.

Pacing around the room, Chuck held Henry tight against his chest, rubbing the baby's back as gently as he could. "It's okay, Henry," he tried to reassure him, although his own voice was tinged with fright. "You'll be fine, mom will be back soon."

He shoot a glance at the door, which Blair had left ajar when she had walked out of the nursery. They had let their baby nurse go more than two months ago and, as usual, they had dismissed the staff after dinner, which was why his wife had been forced to go get one of Henry's teething rings from the fridge, where they kept them to maintain them cool. The doctor had told them that cold usually helped to ease the pain, but Chuck felt like everything they had tried, from rubbing the baby's gums to giving him teething gel, had been quite useless. The relief those remedies brought was always temporary, and temporary, to Chuck, meant inutile; he was notoriously impatient and generally accustomed to solve problems quickly rather than to limit himself to band aid a situation.

Chuck kissed the top of Henry's dark haired head for the countless time, as he kept on walking around and cradling him. "You're safe, Henry," he murmured, "I'm right here with you."

His goal at this point wasn't even to make him sleep; he simply wanted him to calm down a bit and stop crying in such an inconsolable way. His heart ached with that excruciating sound; he felt it pounding in his chest at every sob, almost reaching his throat. Exhausted, he sat down on the rocking chair, hoping that the movement would have helped Henry to relax.

When Blair entered the nursery again, though, Henry was still screaming loudly. Chuck glanced up at her and frowned. "What took you so long?" he asked. His tone was something in between irritated and panicky and the question came out unusually brusque.

Blair, realizing how alarmed and upset he looked, sighed. His hair and night clothes were in complete disarray and his features were darkened by the stare of absolute despair on his face. He was clearly at a loss. "Just the time to climb three floors of stairs up and down," she replied, making sure her voice sounded serene enough to reassure him. She walked over to the chair where he sat with Henry in his arms and leaned in, giving her son the cool teething ring she had brought with her. "Stay calm," she then told Chuck, placing a reassuring hand on his tensed shoulder and rubbing it. "He'll never stop crying if he feels that you're scared."

"He's crying because he's in pain," Chuck, never keen to admit fear, retorted sharply, helping Henry to hold the ring. "And we're not doing anything."

Blair, shaking her head, gently took the baby from her husband's lap. "We're doing everything we can," she said, as she settled Henry in her arms and tried to make him bite the toy. The baby, not happy with her attempts, clung to her, hiding his face against her shoulder.

Chuck ran an hand through his uncharacteristically messy hair and sighed, before standing up. "Which obviously isn't helping," he affirmed, his voice low and shaky. Blair took his place on the rocking chair and watched as he stopped in front of her, rubbing his jaw tensely and keeping his eyes on the floor. He took a deep breath. "I'm calling Dr. Henderson," he stated after a second, glancing up. His tone had suddenly turned cold and firm and his gaze, now immobile, was determined. "I won't have my son screaming from pain any longer. This needs to be fixed now."

An half smile rose to Blair's lips at the expression he had used, as if this was just another situation he could impose his power on. "Your son is teething, Chuck," she reminded him, a patient look on her face. "You can't 'fix it'. No one can stop teeth from growing, not even the best pediatrician. Who, by the way, shouldn't be disturbed in the middle of the night for nothing."

Chuck's frown became more evident, his lips pressed into a thin line. "He's paid handsomely to be available at whatever hour," he objected stubbornly, ignoring everything else Blair had said. "I'll send him a car and he'll come over to check on Henry. There must be something wrong."

Blair heaved a long sigh. "There isn't. Can't you see that he's calming down?" she tried to make him notice how Henry's sobs had softened. He was still sniffing and his cheeks were still flushed, but, biting the cool teething ring, he seemed to feel better. "I promise he's just fine."

Chuck bit his bottom lip nervously and gazed at his son, weighing up Blair's words. After a couple of seconds, he shook his head vigorously. "I'm calling him," he repeated obstinately.

Before Blair could add anything to make him change his mind, he had turned his back on her and rushed out of the nursery, leaving her to look at him resignedly as he disappeared into the hall.

Less than an hour later, a thorough examination by Dr. Henderson – repeated twice, at Chuck's strict insistence – had confirmed that Henry was completely fine. When Chuck left the nursery to walk the doctor to the door, the baby, finally calm, was actually starting to fall asleep.

"As I said, there is nothing to worry about, Mr. Bass," Dr. Henderson cautiously repeated to a stern looking Chuck, as they reached the bottom of the stairs and proceeded to cross the foyer. "Your son's teeth are pushing through his gums, that's why it's a painful process," he explained again, "but it should get better soon, the first teeth are usually the worst."

Chuck, stopping in front of the door, stared at the man, an undiscernible expression on his face. "Are you absolutely sure?" he asked in a low, flat voice.

His question sounded somewhat threatening and the doctor, who was smart enough to realize that he wasn't dealing with an ordinary worried parent, but with a worried parent who had the means to destroy his career, didn't hesitate to show a bright, reassuring smile. "I am, sir. Your Henry is perfectly healthy," he confirmed once more. "Feel free to call me if you have any further doubts, though," he added right after, noticing that his interlocutor's cold and intimidating look hadn't become any softer.

Chuck, impassive, nodded wordlessly. He wrote a generous check to the doctor to thank him for his time and, once the man was gone, he locked the front door before heading upstairs.

Blair was waiting for him, standing in the middle of the third floor landing. She watched in silence as he made his way up the grand staircase, his gaze fixed on the plush carpet runner as, unaware of her presence, he slowly climbed the steps towards her.

"Henry is asleep," she told him when he got close enough to hear her barely higher than a whisper voice, knowing that the information would have helped him to relax. She had thought of joking about his unreasonable decision of demanding their son's pediatrician to come over for something so small and irrelevant, but the way his face was now letting show through the fear he had forced himself to contain till then had made her change her mind.

When he stopped on the last step to look up at her, a tired, tender smile had tilted up the corners of her lips and her expression was nothing but warm and sympathetic.

Her words and attitude, though, didn't seem to placate his tension. Chuck didn't reply; he inhaled a deep sigh instead, as, lowering his gaze, he covered the small distance between them and placed himself in front of her.

"Is he okay?" he asked after a moment. The question escaped his lips in a trembling, almost suffocated breath.

Blair, determined to reassure him, laced her arms tight around his waist. She felt him abandoning himself to her embrace, as if his body had been weakened by the strong emotions that were always so hard for him to deal with.

"He is," she told him, as she rested her head against his chest. His heart was still beating faster than normal. "You heard Dr. Henderson," she looked up at him and he finally allowed her to meet his insecure eyes. "I promise you Henry is safe."

Again, Chuck remained silent. Blair let go of his waist and reached out to grab his hand, weaving their fingers together. She squeezed it, her grip on his palm firm and soothing. "You can't protect him from everything, Chuck," she said, putting his thoughts into words.

She knew that, other than being overprotective, Chuck couldn't accept the fact that there were things he had no control over and that, therefore, he couldn't shelter Henry from every pain. He might understand it rationally, but he still couldn't forgive himself for being powerless – he normally couldn't in any situation and much less when it came to his son. It frightened him in a deep and irrepressible way.

Chuck stared back at her, a glimpse of surprise in his dark eyes, and Blair smiled. "I know it scares you. It scares me too," she admitted, guiding her free hand to his cheek to cup it. She stroked his jaw lightly. "But we can't prevent some things from happening; they're an inevitable part of life. Our job is to do all we can to help Henry through them."

He glanced down again, pursing his lips as he did every time he was nervous. After a few seconds of silence, he raised his gaze back on her. "I have to take care of him," he uttered slowly.

Blair nodded. "You do," she replied, happy to catch a hint of relief on his face. He was finally starting to collect the rationality he had lacked of over the last couple of hours and letting go the sense of alarm she had seen him struggling with. "You take care of him and me so well," she welcomed the slight smile appeared on his lips with heartwarming words. "You'd do anything for us, even if it means waking our doctor in the middle of the night," she teased him, knowing that now she could.

Chuck chortled. "I'll admit that I might have overreacted a little," he conceded, smirking. Blair raised her eyebrows at his statement and he chuckled again. "Maybe not just a little. But I can assure you that he's been rewarded more than properly."

"Right," Blair rolled her eyes at his now visibly smug expression. "No one can say no to The Great Chuck Bass and his billions."

Chuck put an arm around her shoulders and, holding her tight to himself, he kissed her temple. "They'd better not to," he affirmed, starting to guide her down the hall towards their bedroom.

He might not be able to protect his family from every danger, but he was always going to do everything in his power to make sure they were as safe and as happy as he could make them.

Notes:

[1] I've always pictured Blair as the one who manages to keep calm during a crisis (I thought about the way she used to take care of Serena – and Chuck, of course). She's a natural caregiver and possibly a very good "nurse", I don't see her freaking out. Now, Chuck is usually rational himself, but I have a feeling his reasonableness and his ability to control fear crumble down when it comes to Henry. In my mind he's overprotective and a bit (mmh, maybe not just a bit) paranoid.

[2] Again, my experience with babies is very limited and I probably wasn't accurate describing this. I made researches about teething and read parents discussing it online, so all I wrote comes from there. I apologize about possible inexactitudes and I hope you can forgive me.

[3] English is not my first language, I'm Italian. I apologize for possible mistakes.

[4] A big thank you to my dear Daphne for trusting me to write about this beautiful and delicate topic.