Author's note: So this is obviously a really speedy update. I guess I felt inspired to keep writing.

Od' und leer das Meer is the German for 'desolate and empty the sea.' It is a line from Tristan and Isolde.

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'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;

'They called me the hyacinth girl.'

—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,

Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not

Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither

Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,

Looking into the heart of light, the silence.

Od' und leer das Meer.

--T.S. Eliot, The Burial of the Dead

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"Deux soupes à l'oignon, un croque monsieur, et un coq au vin," Dan prattled off to the waiter.

"Show off," said Nate offhandedly.

"Très bien, monsieur." The waiter replied, scribbling the order down in his pad. "Et pour boire?"

"Right, guys," Dan turned to the others, "What do you want to drink?"

"Just coffee," said Nate, and Serena nodded.

"Trois cafés," said Dan.

"Et pour moi un café crème, s'il vous plait, mais sans sucre," added Blair, ordering for herself. The waiter beamed at her.

"Pour la jolie mademoiselle Americaine qui parle si bien en français, le café est gratuit." The old man winked at her jovially and went back to the kitchen.

"What did he just say to Blair?" asked Serena, clearly amused.

Dan translated. "For the pretty young American lady who speaks so well in French, the coffee is on the house."

Serena laughed and elbowed Blair, who blushed a little. "Little Miss Waldorf has a new French boyfriend," she teased. "She likes her European men. First a British lord, then a French waiter."

"Shut up," said Blair, burying her face behind her newspaper.

"Guys," said Nate suddenly, "you realize it's Christmas in a few days."

"Yes, Nate, we are well aware of that fact," Blair replied from behind her newspaper, in a slightly condescending tone.

"We should buy a tree! There's a greenhouse and a botanical garden somewhere in this town, I remember from the guide book Dan made us read," concluded Nate.

"Nate, that's actually a really good idea!" said Serena enthusiastically.

"Sure," Dan agreed, "Shall we go when we're done eating?"

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"Aren't they pretty?" asked Serena in a low, almost reverent tone, as the four of them strolled through an avenue carved out between rows of pine trees. The air was filled with their aromatic scent, and the branches glistened with traces of snow. She felt overcome by the beauty and solemnity of the trees, the shadows, the snow, the stillness and quiet. It was magical; almost otherworldly.

"Any one of them you like," said Dan, placing his arm seemingly unconsciously around her shoulder. "We'll take whichever one you like the best."

Blair, walking behind them, sighed a little in envy. The two seemed to gravitate towards one another. They were so natural together; so easy, so effortless, despite the occasional arguments, the culture clash that had led to their break up. She had never had that. She had felt nothing for Marcus, really, apart from the shine she had taken to his title. And with Nate---well, Nate had been absent, so it had been meaningless.

With Chuck it was fire and ice, pain and violent pleasure, electric shocks up and down her spine and in her belly. Hunger. Blindness. When he was cruel to her it was like death. But before that, it was the essence of life itself. And it was never easy or effortless.

But here—walking among the trees with her friends—this was easy. The stiff, upright pine trees were so lovely and stern in the gathering dusk. She could see stars glimmering between the boughs, shining through the fists of needles. A whispering breeze blew through them, and the sound of needles rasping and rubbing together was slightly eerie.

When they reached the end of the avenue they saw in the distance a glittering, warmly lit glass building, which shone pink and orange in the reflected rays of the setting sun. A slight rain had begun to fall, like a silver curtain—a shimmering mist—over the glass dome, which glinted like a jewel.

"Ooh," said Blair, clapping her hands like a little girl, "I want to go there!"

"I'll go with you," said Nate from beside her, taking her mittened hand in his own. Blair smiled up at him.

"Sure," said her best friend, "Dan and I will keep scouting for a tree." Blair and Nate took off towards the greenhouse, and when they were halfway there Blair looked back for a moment and saw the two shadows that were Dan and Serena clinging to each other beneath the trees, almost melting together as if they were one. Blair's smile widened and she turned back, broke into a run until she reached the door, and swung it open so that golden light spilled out into the woods.

She let out a happy laugh—the first Nate had heard from her in months—and rushed inside. He quickly followed, his heart pounding in his ears.

Inside the greenhouse it was warm, almost hot, and bright with lights—and rows and clusters of exotic, brilliant flowers of every color, half-hidden between emerald green leaves. Blair caught her breath and flushed pink, and her eyes sparkled. She threw off her winter coat—it had been a surprisingly warm day for December, and she had only worn a summer dress beneath it—and she danced off through the aisles, pausing to cup the prettiest flowers in her hand, to drink in their perfume. She picked one blossom to twirl it absently in her hair.

She stopped at a cluster of deep purple-blue flowers and exclaimed in delight. "Come here, Nate, look at these!"

Nate stood rooted to the spot, his throat suddenly dry. He tried to swallow, but he felt dizzy. He was overcome at the sight of her, in her yellow dress, so flushed and happy and surrounded with flowers. He saw with clarity for the first time how truly beautiful she was; not coldly beautiful or dignified, as he had once considered her. She was full of life, vibrant, exquisite—the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. More so even than Serena, he realized now.

"Come here, Nate," Blair repeated, looking at him quizzically. "You look like someone hit you over the head with something really heavy."

"Sorry," Nate forced a laugh, and finally walked to her and stood awkwardly at her side.

"Aren't they lovely?" sighed Blair, gathering the flowers in her arms.

"Are you allowed to do that?" asked Nate.

"I'll pay for them," Blair shrugged. She buried her face in them, inhaling their scent as they clung wetly to her skin, nestled in the crook of her arm. He couldn't take his eyes off her slim, bared arm, dewy with moisture from the flowers, as it curved gracefully to hold them. They dripped over her arm and onto her dress. His eyes moved up her arm to her frail shoulder, her shapely neck, her rosy smiling lips.

"Hyacinths," she explained. "In some cultures they are considered a symbol of rebirth."

"When did you become a botanist?" Nate joked, his voice sounding as if it came from far away.

"I just love flowers," she said distractedly, still gazing down blissfully at them.

Nate laughed, and looked up, hoping to spy other flowers she might like—and then froze. The blood drained from his face.

"Blair," he said in a hoarse whisper.

"What?" Blair inhaled one last time and looked up dreamily.

And there, standing at the doorway and silhouetted by the dark trees and falling rain, his coat wet and his hair mussed, was Chuck Bass.