Chapter Five: The More Loving One

Author's note: I was writing this today at a Starbucks, and I overheard these teenage girls about my age gossiping excitedly about the new episode coming out on the 5th, and telling each other spoilers. Luckily I have this story to tide me over until then.

In the spirit of the holidays, this chapter is more cheerful. And as for "The Plan"—well, don't hold your breath, because it won't reveal itself for a while yet.

Enjoy. And please review!

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Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

That, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.

--W.H. Auden, The More Loving One

---

"Blady, get Nathaniel Archibald on the phone," ordered Chuck from behind the piles of paper on his desk.

His assistant reached tentatively for the phone.
"Hello? Um, this is Charles Bass's office. I'm looking for Mr. Nathaniel Archibald? Oh, are you Mrs. Archibald? Oh, I see…well, Rosa, could you tell me how I could get in touch with either of the Archibalds?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake," put in Chuck, "are you talking to the maid I send over there on weekdays?"

"Thank you for your time." His assistant hung up the phone. He turned to face a scowling Chuck Bass.

"Yes, sir, that was Rosa—" he began.

"Well?" snapped Chuck. "Where are Nathaniel and his mother?"

"Mrs. Archibald is visiting family in Connecticut, and the maid doesn't know where young Mr. Archibald is. She hasn't seen him at the apartment at all this past week. May I recommend, sir, that you try calling his cell phone number?..."

"Of course I've tried his cell phone, you incompetent ass," snarled Chuck.

Robert Blady cringed a bit, and fiddled with his pen.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," he replied. "If it's an urgent matter, I could send someone out to his usual haunts, to visit his friends, see if one of them knows where he is—"

"You can do that yourself," said Chuck coolly, leafing through the documents on his desk. "Check with the Van Der Woodsens first, then report back."

"Fine, sir."

Chuck waved a hand dismissively, and his assistant left.

He called Nate's cell phone again, waited until he hit voice mail:

"Nathaniel, I know you're angry with me, but you need to swallow your pride and call me back so we can discuss your finances. I wouldn't want our little argument to get in the way of your mother getting a loan. I shouldn't have to remind you that your father's being in jail leaves you in some very serious financial straits."

He closed his phone and glared at it angrily before turning back to his paperwork.

-----

"Bonjour, mon cher," said Serena cheerily as she handed Blair a croissant from a brown paper bag and plopped herself down at the table. Nate snatched the bag eagerly and withdrew a pastry; Serena had just been to the bakery to buy breakfast.

Blair rolled her eyes. "I think you mean 'bonjour ma chère,' unless of course you are under the impression that I am a boy."

Serena laughed. "I was never very good at French."

Dan snorted into his coffee. "I'll say. I remember I had to help you with your French homework last year. "'How do you conjugate 'être'? Is it the same as 'avoir'?' " he mimicked.

"Hey," Serena punched him playfully in the arm. "You never made fun of my French last year."

"That's because we were dating."

Blair peeled off a strip of her still-warm croissant and lifted it to her mouth. She was eating more already, under Serena's watch; and she hadn't felt the urge to vomit in days. She was in a better mood than she had been in a very long time, hiding out in her father's villa in France with her friends. There was no stress, no reputation to uphold, no need to act or pretend, fewer reminders of Chuck—she only thought about him around twenty times a day now. It was easier, now that she had begun to accept that he really didn't love her. She always thought he did, a little, and just wouldn't admit it—but she saw it in his eyes, that night at the bar. That was why she fainted—not because what he said was hurtful, which it was. In his eyes that night she saw the wreck of all her hopes, and it was too much to take.

She shuddered. I just need to stay far away from him, she decided. Live somewhere there are no reminders of him—if he gets into Yale, maybe I'll go to the Sorbonne instead. I like France. I feel better here than I do in New York. And she'd only been there a week. I wouldn't mind living here, she thought. It's kinda nice. In Paris, of course, the south is too rural and boring for me.

"Hey, guys," said Nate around a mouthful of pastry, "what are we doing tonight? Should we go see a movie?"

"Sure," said Serena. "What's playing?"

"Almost nothing, as usual," sighed Dan. "I already checked. Quantum of Solace, Changeling, The Dark Knight… yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Didn't those all come out ages ago?" asked Blair.

"Yes," replied Serena, "and they're all really depressing, from what I've heard."

"We could rent a movie," offered Nate, "We've been doing that most nights anyway."

"Our lives have become so exciting," joked Serena.

"Ah, it's a nice change," said Nate. "No bar-hopping, no alcohol consumption, no craziness for once. I like lying low."

Dan chuckled. "I never thought I would hear a group of upper east siders trash their own glitzy lifestyle."

"Shut up, Dan," Nate responded. "You're practically one of us now."

"What movie are we getting?" asked Blair, cutting to the point.

"Well, you're probably going to make us watch an Audrey Hepburn movie."

"Yeah, I probably will," smirked Blair. "Modern films are stupid."

"We can compromise," said Serena—"we can watch an old, classic movie that isn't mushy."

"Breakfast At Tiffany's is NOT mushy!" yelled Blair, indignant.

Serena pointedly ignored her. "How about a Hitchcock thriller?"

"Yeah, that's good, I love his work," said Dan, nodding wisely.

Nate muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'pompous bastard'. Dan glared at him.

"I'm not watching Psycho," pouted Blair.

"How about Notorious?" asked Dan. "Blair will like it, it's romantic."

Blair looked skeptical.

"It stars Carey Grant," added Dan.

Blair brightened. "Alright then."

----------------------

Chuck's office phone rang, interrupting his train of thought.

He answered it. "What?" he said irritably.

"The Van Der Woodsens don't know—or else, won't tell me—where Nate is."

"What do you mean, they won't tell you?" asked Chuck, sitting up. "What did Lily say?"

"She said, and I quote, 'Nathaniel is off somewhere with Blair and with my daughter.' And then she asked me to leave."

"So she knows where they all are," said Chuck angrily. "She wouldn't appear so unconcerned if her daughter were missing."

"I suppose, sir."

"Well, track down Eleanor and Cyrus Rose and ask them where their daughter is."

"I already tried, sir—they apparently left a week ago."

"Left where?" Chuck snapped.

"The Caribbean. For their honeymoon, it seems."

"Fine," said Chuck. "I'll talk to Eric." He hung up the phone and shrugged on his coat. Nate fucking Archibald, my half-sister, and…her. He wouldn't even consciously think her name to himself. All of them mysteriously disappearing together. It's like a fucking conspiracy. He got into his limo and said succinctly to the driver, "take me to the Van Der Woodsens'."

When the doorbell rang Lily opened it to find a stony-faced Chuck Bass standing on her doorstep. She cocked an eyebrow.

"Chuck," she said, "this is a surprise…" He stiffened.

"Lily," he acknowledged coldly, "just who I didn't come here to see."

"Well, then," countered Lily, "how can I help you?"

"Where's Eric?"

"In his room," Lily barely had a chance to reply, as Chuck pushed past her without another word.

-----------------

"Alright," asked Dan that evening, "whose turn is it to get the movie?"

"Serena's," replied Nate and Blair unanimously.

"Fine," said Serena, "but I can't drive, so someone who can has to come with me."

Nate rolled his eyes. "Ok, I will. Let's go."

Blair helped Dan put away the dishes from dinner after Serena and Nate left, grimacing a bit as she realized this was probably the first time she had ever cleared up a table or washed dishes before. Usually Dorota took care of this menial type of work.

"Do you want to wash, or dry?" Dan asked blandly, setting a stack of plates in the sink.

"Dry." Blair eyed the plates distastefully.

"Of course." Dan took a washcloth and wiped down a plate, running it under water before handing it to her. She took it gingerly, allowing the sudsy water to drip onto the counter before drying it with a paper towel. "Ugh," she said, wrinkling her nose, "I feel like a servant."

Dan laughed but made no comment, and proceeded to wash Serena's wine glass.

"Humphrey," said Blair slyly, placing the dried plate on a shelf, "why did you come to France with us, anyway?"

Dan was surprised. "I haven't heard you complain yet; not since you found out I'm the only one of us who is fluent in French."

"That's bullshit, Humphrey, I take AP French."

"Maybe, but your accent sucks."

"It does not!" Blair threw the towel at him, and Dan ducked.

"Alright," he chuckled, "it's not that bad."

"But really," said Blair, "I think you had an ulterior motive for coming."

Dan glanced at her sideways. "And what might that be?"

"Serena," said Blair smugly. "You want her back."

Dan blushed a bit. "And you'll do everything to prevent that from happening, right?"

Blair pondered the question for a moment. "I don't know," she said finally, her head cocked to the side as she studied Dan's profile consideringly.

Dan suddenly grinned as he handed her the clean wine glass. "Blair Waldorf," he said in a mocking tone, "does that mean you're beginning to warm towards me? I never thought I'd see the day…"

"Not really," said Blair, glancing down at her nails. She frowned as she saw that they were in a truly pitiable condition; she hadn't gotten a manicure in over a week now.

"But better you than that slime ball artist."

"Is she still with him?" asked Dan quickly.

"I don't think she has formally broken up with him yet," sighed Blair. "But I'll persuade her to get rid of him; leave the road clear for you."

"That's…nice of you," said Dan. "Surprisingly nice. Devious, but nice."

"Well," Blair gave an off-hand wave, "I guess I owe you."

Dan smiled at her and said nothing, and Blair was grateful.

-----------------

Eric was alone in his room, his nose stuck in a book. He glanced up when Chuck marched in, and did not appear surprised to see him.

"Eric," said Chuck, "where are your sister and her little friends?"

"She told me not to tell you," replied Eric, turning back to his book and flipping the page nonchalantly.

"Eric," Chuck began menacingly, "Don't screw with me."

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Chuck." Eric did not look up again.

Chuck decided he'd waste less time by forgoing the threats.

"Look, Eric, Nathaniel and his mother desperately need money, and I can't give them a loan until I've tracked him down and gotten him to sign some papers."

Eric looked up. "That's surprisingly nice of you."

Chuck was unresponsive.

Eric sighed. "I think you'll have to wait until they get back."

"From where?" began Chuck, exasperated. "And when?"

"Not until the end of Christmas break," said Eric firmly.

"That's too late! He needs to sign them in the next few days!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but they don't have internet access and their phones don't work overseas."

"Again," snarled Chuck, "where are they?"

"France," Eric conceded finally. "Blair's dad's—"

Chuck look surprised for a moment. "I think I have his contact information—"

That won't help. He's not with them," Eric explained. "He and his boyfriend went on vacation somewhere, left Blair and her friends the house."

"So there's no way to get in touch with any of them?"

"Not unless you fly there. Sorry."

"God damnit," said Chuck feelingly, turning on his heel and leaving the room without another word. He would have to fly his jet to France, or else the Archibalds would really go under. "Prick doesn't deserve it," he thought angrily. He slammed the front door moodily on his way out, and was deep in thought throughout the limo drive home.