Author's note: This wonderful poem was recommended by one of my readers. You know who you are. :)

Please review! The more you review, the more motivated I am to update speedily (and I guess this is my feeble attempt at blackmail).

Enjoy.

Chapter Seven: A Thunderbird

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;

I lift my lids and all is born again.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,

And arbitrary blackness gallops in:

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:

Exit seraphim and Satan's men:

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,

But I grow old and I forget your name.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;

At least when spring comes they roar back again.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

--Sylvia Plath, Mad Girl's Love Song

It's funny, thought Nate hazily, how in a moment things can change so quickly; an impression is altered or forgotten, and everything falls apart. The greenhouse and everything held in it had seemed so beautiful to him just a second ago; so perfect, as if he had stepped into an enchanted world in which all the flaws of the real one had magically melted away, and everything was in its rightful place.

And yet, now, as he felt his blood turning to syrup in his veins—his heartbeat slowing, thickening, pounding so that he could hear it—the lights seemed harsh, lurid; the hosts of flowers blended into a cacophony of clashing colors. Blair looked like a statue that had been slapped with red paint—she was white as marble everywhere but her lips and the twin spots of feverish red on her cheeks.

A few seconds had passed, perhaps a minute, perhaps more. Nate couldn't tell. And still, no one had said anything.

Oddly enough, Chuck seemed the most shocked of any of them. As he stood at the doorway and beheld them for the first time, Nate saw pure panic flash across his eyes—and then something else, which Nate couldn't put his finger on—and then the shutters were closed, and his eyes were blank and unrevealing. Even so, he looked only at the floor, at Nate, at the flowers, at the glass walls; everywhere but at her.

Finally, Blair was the one who broke the silence. She lifted up her chin and said: "It's funny how you told me endlessly that you wanted me to leave you—and then a week after I did, you follow me across a continent." Her voice was smooth and collected. But her cheeks and lips still burned scarlet and her eyes glittered strangely.

"I didn't come here for you," said Chuck in a monotone, staring right past her. His eyes were unfocused, and to Nate they looked vacant—as if he'd been blinded.

"I have some papers I need you to sign, Nathaniel."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" said Nate. "That's what you flew to France for? How did you find us here anyway?"

"I just asked around in the town square if anyone had seen a group of American teenage tourists. A waiter in the main restaurant told me that my American friends had asked for directions to the botanical garden."

"Just like that?"

Chuck shrugged. "The townspeople are very trusting."

Nate heard some noises outside; the sound of pebbles being dislodged from the ground, a splash. Approaching footsteps, bubbly laughter. Dan and Serena. He groaned inwardly.

"Guys," Dan called from outside the door, "we found a tree."

The door opened.

"Who's that--?" Serena started to ask, catching sight of Chuck's back, and then Chuck turned around.

"Chuck?" Serena and Dan were both dumbfounded. "What are you doing here?" asked Serena in a shocked voice. Chuck ignored her and turned back to Nate.

Nate unconsciously placed a hand on Blair's arm protectively. Chuck noticed the gesture and his eyes flashed.

"Just sign the papers," he growled, "and I'll be happy to leave. I didn't mean to crash your pathetic little party."

"What papers?" Nate had begun to tremble with rage.

"The ones you need to sign so that I can give you a loan, you idiot," he said through clenched teeth.

"You want to give him money?" Blair said incredulously.

"I don't want it," said Nate angrily. "I won't take anything from him."

"You want to go to jail because of a grudge?"

"My grandparents are giving us money. We don't need you."

"Fine," snapped Chuck, incensed. "When it turns out they aren't willing to raise enough for your mother to live on, don't come running to me."

"I don't plan to," asserted Nate. "You shouldn't have come here. You've upset Blair; she was so happy before you came and ruined it—"

"Oh yes," seethed Chuck, "I'm surprised my mere presence hasn't sent her into hysterics."

Behind him, Serena shook her head angrily. Blair glanced down at her hands, which were clasped together so tight the knuckles were white and bloodless.

"Poor, fragile little princess Blair," Chuck spat, eyeing Nate's hand on her shoulder with disgust. "I'm glad she finally got her Prince Charming to shield her against the big bad Bass."

Blair looked up, her eyes bright in her small, pale face. She stepped forward.

"Enough," she said in growing anger. "Enough."

She poked a finger in Chuck's chest.

"I know you're upset about your dad," she continued breathlessly, "but that does not excuse your behavior." Her eyes glittered with deadly fire. "Do you really think," she continued, after a moment—"that we're going to keep forgiving you, every time?"

Chuck didn't say anything.

"Is that what you expect from us?" she repeated.

"I don't expect anything from you."

Blair let her hand drop to her side. "Good," she said. "You shouldn't. Now, why don't you go back where you came from?" Chuck stared at her, his eyes glassy and impenetrable again, and did not move or speak.

"Fine," she snapped. She pushed past him and out the door angrily, into the trees and rain. She heard footsteps behind her, and her breath constricted; but it was only Serena.

"Hey," she said, catching up to Blair, "are you okay?"

"I'm so sick of his bullshit," Blair fumed, still stomping furiously through the woods.

"It's good that you're angry," Serena said.

"What?"

Serena shrugged. "I prefer Angry Blair to Masochistic Blair. It's good to see you stand up for yourself. That was my main goal, actually, in getting you to come here."

"When you told me," Blair cut her eyes sideways at Serena, "the day we got here, that you had a plan for dealing with Chuck—was this what you had in mind?"

"Oh, no, no no no," Serena shook her head furiously, "we had no idea he would come here. I still can hardly believe that he did." She paused thoughtfully. "But it meshes rather nicely with our plan, now that you mention it."

"I should just start dating Nate again," muttered Blair spitefully. "That would seriously piss him off."

Serena glanced at her and a surprised little smile tugged at her lips. "It's funny you should say that…"