Blair had never been happier to ride first-class in her life; being the first one off the plane meant she would be home that much faster. She rushed from her seat to the jet way, down the hall and to the arrivals gate, hoping Nicolas would be there waiting for her. Any delay in seeing him would surely bring tears.
The gate was congested and noisy. Blair turned up her nose at the smell of a group of travelers as she hurried past, her eyes darting around in search of her fiancé.
Where was he?
The crowd parted for an instant in just the right place, and she glimpsed his tall, lean figure. His back was to her but his posture gave him away – hands tucked into his trouser pockets, head cocked slightly to one side, weight resting on his left leg. She nearly cried out in joy as she raced towards him.
"Nicolas!"
He turned at the sound of his name; cold eyes made her skid to a halt in front of him.
"Nicolas?" she asked. "What…what's wrong?"
His green eyes blazed with anger. "Why did you do it, Blair?"
"Do what –"
"Don't play dumb!" Nicolas roared. "I know that you whored yourself out in Paris."
Blair winced. So this was it. He knew what she'd done and he wasn't going to give her a chance to explain herself. She glanced at the people milling around, hoping that his outburst hadn't caused a scene.
But to her horror, everyone in the terminal had turned to face them and were now holding up their cell phones to take pictures of the scene. Or worse, she thought, to videotape it.
"Nicolas, please," Blair begged. "Everyone is staring. Let's talk about this when we get home, okay? Or in the car on the way. But not here…not when everyone is watching us."
"So it's too much to fight in an airport," he sneered. "But it's not too much to sleep with your ex when we're weeks away from getting married?"
"I didn't!" she cried. "I would never do that to you, I promise. I love you!"
Nicolas let out a peal of vicious laughter. "I bet you told him that same thing when you were on your knees, begging him to fuck you. Weren't you?"
Blair gaped at him, unable to speak or defend herself. Nicolas made a disgusted noise before he turned and made his way to the airport exit. She was too unprepared for his attack and she'd never heard him speak that way before. She couldn't move, couldn't do anything but watch him leave her. She was helpless.
Then the crowd began to move in closer to her, still holding their cell phones up, each of their mouths laughing with Nicolas's voice.
Blair opened her eyes with a gasp.
"Ma'am?" a gentle voice prodded. Blair looked up and saw the first-class stewardess smiling down at her. "We'll be landing in a few minutes. The captain has asked that everyone put their seat belts on now."
"Oh," Blair said. "Thank you."
Once her seatbelt had been clicked in place, she turned to look out the window. She didn't need a dream dictionary to decode what her nightmare was about: she was feeling very guilty. Well…perhaps that was an understatement.
She saw him everywhere now. The pink scarf another passenger wore was the exact color of his lips. A black limo had taken her from her hotel to the airport. On her way into the restaurant she'd met her mother in for lunch, she thought she saw him saunter up to the bar…but when the man turned, he had blue eyes and a goatee. When her mother brought up an intern of hers – Charles – Blair had almost spit out the sip of wine she'd just taken. And she swore he was standing behind her when she was washing her face the night before, commenting on how beautiful her skin was.
(Of course, there had been no one, though she was loathe to admit she'd been driven to the point of hallucinations now.)
Simply put, there was no escaping him. Again.
Not for the first time, she wondered why that was. Of course she'd thought about him in the past few years; she had a bit of a morbid curiosity about his life and what kind of man he turned out to be (without her). But she always tried to suppress thoughts of him, because it still hurt. Her whole body didn't hurt anymore, no…but whenever she heard Serena casually mention him or heard someone call "Charles!" on the street, there was a dull throbbing behind her heart. It was like an adrenaline rush but heavier, deeper – and she felt undiluted terror.
Most of the time, it happened when she caught herself thinking about him…when she had been so unconsciously deep in thought about him that she could just feel him near her.
Whenever she felt that rush, she couldn't help it: her eyes flew to the nearest reflective surface. Hands smoothed her clothes, fingers tugged nonchalantly at her hair to ensure its best appearance, eyes assessed the state of her lipstick. A few seconds would pass before she allowed herself to breathe, because surely by then he would have already been upon her if he was nearby.
Nicolas had caught her doing it several times since they'd met. She always managed to play it off with a smile or a laugh or sometimes a kiss, he would nod and continue their conversation, and she would promise herself not to let it happen again.
No, she'd never quite stopped thinking about him.
The clouds gradually faded into a beautiful blue sky outside the plane. Below, the cold waters of the Atlantic Ocean reflected sunlight across its gentle surface. She spied a cruise ship headed further out to sea, then caught her first glimpse of land. Within half an hour she was stepping through the open door of the plane and striding down the jet way.
"Nicolas!" she squealed when she spotted him, pushing through a swarm of people who were embracing and talking excitedly. Nicolas lifted his chin to give him a better view over the crowd, though he was nearly six feet tall and had already locked eyes with her.
When she drew closer and he didn't move to meet her, she nearly froze. Is he angry with me? She thought. Did I fall back asleep again? Is this another dream?
She kept going; she was desperate to feel his comforting arms around her, the way he tucked his chin into the crook of her neck and buried his nose into her hair. She wanted him to kiss all of her doubts about them, Chuck, and herself away and make things go back to normal, before all of the love triangle nonsense muddled her life's plans.
Relocating to New York City from Paris could possibly be the worst mistake she'd ever made, she mused. Her relationship was in jeopardy as it had never been before she and Nicolas had moved. Maybe she'd somehow outgrown the Upper East Side…or maybe it really was evil.
Where had that thought come from? she thought.
But before she could formulate a better theory on the matter, she'd reached him. He held a large bouquet of peonies, roses and hydrangeas – a mix that he generally saved for special occasions. And though he looked quite handsome, he was also slightly disheveled…or perhaps overly tired. Then he smiled, and the tiny lines at the corners of his green eyes crinkled deliciously and made Blair want to kiss him senseless.
"Welcome home," he said, handing her the flowers.
His voice was warm, but his body language set off alarms in her head. Something was wrong, so very wrong; she knew she should stop and make him tell her what was on his mind, but she couldn't hold back. The two weeks she spent in Paris had worn on her heavily, but she didn't grasp how raw she was until she launched herself into his arms.
Nicolas wrapped himself around her. He buried his face into her neck and she smiled rapturously at the familiarity of his embrace. His grip tightened around her and she felt a tug on her heart. Maybe he just missed her…but she had a feeling that something else was amiss.
"Nicolas, what's wrong?" she asked, leaning away from him to look into his eyes.
"Nothing," he replied. "I thought that…maybe…"
Blair watched with concern as he stumbled over his words. He paused for a moment, then shook his head. "Never mind," he said with a smile. "You're home now, mon amour. That's all that matters."
"Yes," she agreed. "And I won't be going anywhere anytime soon, I promise. I told Lottie that I couldn't do any more trips until after our honeymoon."
Nicolas sighed heavily at her words, as if she'd lifted a huge weight from his shoulders. "I'm glad to hear it," he said. "And I suspect you'll be happy to hear that I have a gift for you."
"Really?" Blair exclaimed. "Is it a gift for coming back a couple of days early?"
Her fiancé chuckled and reached for her hand, bring it to his lips. "Oh, I knew you would be home early," he assured her.
"Then why the gift?"
"I missed you while you were gone," Nicolas explained with a playful wink. "I sat up night after night, wondering how I could show my fiancée how much I missed her when she returned."
Blair managed a smile even though she felt a little sick. Did he know that Chuck had been stalking her around town while he was away on business, that he had followed her to Paris, and that he had kissed her not once, but twice? Was she just imagining the bitterness in his voice, or the edge when he said the word "fiancée"?
No, she chastised herself. Nicolas wouldn't know about any of this. You're just on edge because you feel guilty, as well you should! You've got a wonderful man who loves you more than his own life, who would do anything for you –
So would Chuck, said another voice in her head. He still loves you. You know he does.
He lost his chance! Chuck is my past…my very distant past. Nicolas is my future. I love him.
She realized that her future was looking at her expectantly during her inner dialog, so she pushed her paranoia away to focus on their conversation. It was a good thing she didn't need to muster any great acting skills to be excited about presents.
"Well? Can I have it now?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.
"No, no, chérie, you must wait until we get home!" he laughed, and Blair finally relaxed. Nicolas was a terrible liar, unable to fib about the smallest thing without pacing or wringing his hands or just spilling the truth immediately.
That must mean…he doesn't know! Blair thought.
She threw her arms around his neck, bringing his head down to crush her lips against his. He kissed her back greedily and she reveled in the familiarity of the taste of him. When his hands wound through her hair, her legs quivered and she felt a pleasurable tingling throughout her body.
Nicolas loosened his grip on her a minute later and pulled away, his eyes drawn immediately to Blair's parted lips. Her ever-present lip gloss had been thoroughly kissed away, leaving them naked and slightly swollen. Perhaps he'd been a little too enthusiastic, but he couldn't help it: he really had missed her.
The pangs were still there - jealousy, betrayal, anger, suspicion – but they had already been contained. In the hours after his discovery of the notes among Blair's things, he'd gone back and forth about how he would handle it. As far as he could tell, he had three options:
One, he could find Chuck and kill him. But since he was such a well-known figure in the world in general, Nicolas doubted he would be able to get away with it. He'd rot in prison for the rest of his life. But it would feel damn good, he'd mused before deciding it was out of the question.
There was always the option of feigning ignorance for the rest of his life. But the thought made him a little sick – would he be able to pretend that his suspicions weren't burning holes through his head? Could he ignore the twisting of his heart when he saw Blair interacting with Chuck at family functions (because he wasn't a fool – the van der Woodsens were a second family to Blair, and by extension, Chuck was too) or during the holidays? No, most likely he would drive himself mad within a few months.
That left him with only one alternative: confront Blair and find out the origin of the notes. Obviously it would be much more bearable if they were old (because then they would have been saved for their sentimental value) rather than if they were recent (because then, Nicolas would be back at the Murder-Chuck-Bass-With-His-Bare-Hands plan, and he really disliked the idea of prison).
He'd spent most of the previous day jumping from plan to plan, imagining conversations between himself and Blair and dreaming up creative ways to eliminate his competition. But when he saw Blair step off the arrivals gate, he'd decided his plotting could be postponed. There was plenty of time until the wedding to confront her.
Though Nicolas was bursting with excitement at the sight of her, he'd willed himself to remain stoic. He wanted to see how eager Blair was to be near him. He imagined her running through the terminal and jumping into his arms, wrapping her smooth legs around his waist and kissing him hard –
Stoic, Nicolas, he had reminded himself as he fiddled with the bouquet of peonies he held and shifted on his feet. God help him, he was nervous…but after she'd kissed him, he'd practically scooped her up and carried her out of the airport, to their car and into their new penthouse.
A few hours later, Blair bent down to pluck her now-wrinkled blouse from the floor. She snatched up Nicolas' belt and tossed it to him playfully, then reached up to assess the state of her hair. She winced at the mess of tangles caused by their rushed lovemaking.
Nicolas took a seat on the bench they kept at the end of their bed while Blair perched at her dressing table and began removing her jewelry. "So," she said airily. "How did all of your meetings go since I've been gone?"
Nicolas looked up from pulling on his shoes. "They went well," he answered. "Why do you ask?"
"It's just that we didn't get a chance to really talk about it in depth," Blair explained, winking at his reflection in the vanity mirror. "And you usually tease me at length with all the new fashions you've seen."
Nicolas shot her an impish grin before turning back to his shoes. "Truthfully, most of the brands I saw the first week were abysmal. You would have dismissed them before they had a chance to sit down."
Blair gave a tiny smile and reached up to unpin her hair. "And the second week?"
She saw him freeze for a moment as he was pulling off his left sock. He was looking into the distance at nothing in particular, but it seemed as though he was lost in thought.
Her mind raced: she knew that Nicolas had met with Jenny sometime during her second week in Paris. Did his sudden thoughtfulness have anything to do with her? She didn't trust that Brooklyn skank as far as she could throw her; what if she knew something? What if she had found out about Chuck stalking her, sending her notes, or worse…kissing her? She couldn't afford to have her working in any proximity to her fiancé.
"Nicolas?" she prodded.
He cleared his throat and went back to tugging off his sock. "The following week was much more successful," he replied amiably. "Actually, I met with an old schoolmate of yours. What was her name? Jenny…"
"Humphrey?" Blair supplied.
"Yes, that's it," Nicolas said, rising from the bench. He pulled off his jacket and started loosening his tie. "Humphrey."
A few moments passed in silence, and when Blair realized Nicolas didn't intend to elaborate further, she decided to take matters into her own hands.
"Did she mention me at all?"
Nicolas thought for a second before answering. "No," he said. "Not really. She said that she read about our engagement in the Times, and that she knew you from school. Oh, she offered her congratulations as well."
Blair snorted. "I'll bet she did."
"I take it you didn't like her?" Nicolas asked.
"Not in the slightest, darling," she said, rising from her vanity seat.
"Where are you going, mon amour?"
"I'm going to take a bath," Blair explained. "I need it after the flight, and you just finished getting me even more dirty. You don't mind, do you?"
Nicolas winked at her. "Not at all," he responded. "Shall we go out to dinner to celebrate your return?"
"That sounds wonderful," Blair said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She took a few quick steps to him and bent to kiss him softly, then retreated to their bathroom. As she soaked in the warm water, she let her mind wander:
Chuck. Nicolas. How did it come to this? Chuck. Nicolas. I can't do this alone…
Half an hour later, she stepped out of the bathroom and Nicolas immediately wrapped his arms around her bare shoulders. "Mm, you smell good. New shampoo?"
Blair stiffened in his embrace, guilt mingling with a sudden burst of adrenaline.
How could she be stupid enough to think that Nicolas wouldn't notice a change in her perfume? He noticed everything.
"It's my new perfume." She stumbled over the words, eager to get them out so that she could change the topic. "My mother gave it to me when I had lunch with her yesterday."
"What is it called?"
"J'adore," she replied, straining to create a believable smile.
"It's divine, chérie." Nicolas inhaled her scent deeply and sighed in appreciation. "And it suits you perfectly."
She flinched at his words.
Part of her wanted him to hate it, to understand what it suddenly meant to her now and who she equated it with. Because even though her mother had mentioned Nicolas as she handed Blair the gift wrapped bottle, the smell screamed Chuck Bass. It reeked of her attachment to him, the stain in her mind and her heart that she could never be rid of completely.
Spending more than a week away from Nicolas and Chuck was supposed to help her gain her bearings. By the time she returned to the States, she should have been more equipped to deal with Chuck's reentry into her life and what that meant to her fast-approaching marriage to Nicolas.
But Chuck had thrown a wrench into her plans, of course.
Again.
Now she was even more confused. Did her guilt over her new perfume mean more than she had admitted to herself?
"Blair?"
"Yes?" Blair answered absently, turning in Nicolas' arms to face him. He looked expectant, as if he were waiting for her to answer a question.
"I was saying that I forgot a file at the office, but that I would pick up dinner on my way home," he said. "Can you wait to eat for a couple of hours?"
"Of course," she replied absently, already padding towards her closet, leaving her fiancée to get dressed himself.
As she rummaged through her closet, she found her thoughts wandering again. How could she feel such conflicting emotions for two different men? Nicolas made her deliriously happy with just a glance…but so did Chuck, in an altogether different way. Nicolas was a slow burning, sensual fire, while Chuck was the white-hot burning that could melt you down to your bones. Nicolas had come to know her extremely well during their relationship, but Chuck just got her. He understood her on a level that no one had or ever would. He knew her darkness and he knew her lightness, and he appreciated all of her flaws and all of her shortcomings.
What was she going to do? How had she allowed herself to be consumed with thoughts of that Basstard again, anyway? He'd hurt her terribly before…why was she even allowing herself to consider him when he'd wind up betraying her again?
"That fucking Basstard…" she mumbled, rummaging through her purse for her cell phone.
"Did you say something, Blair?" Nicolas called from the other side of her closet door.
"No, darling," she returned sweetly. "I was just looking for my phone, but I found it. Let me know when you're on your way home."
She worried her lip for a moment before her fingers began typing out an urgent message:
S, I need u. N is leaving in 5, please come now. –B
When Serena peeked around the open door twenty minutes later, she spied her best friend in an all-too familiar position: sitting on the bathroom floor, back pressed against the wall, legs extended in front of her. But there was something…different about the situation this time. She couldn't put her finger on what it was exactly; logical thought was buried instantly beneath her panic.
"B?" Serena asked, kneeling carefully next to Blair. "Oh my God, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Blair replied.
"But…what are you doing on the floor?"
"It's not what you think –"
"Then what is it?" Serena demanded. "I know that the wedding is getting closer and the stress is probably ridiculous, but that's no reason to…relapse."
"Oh, S," Blair began. "It isn't like that. I haven't –"
"Because you could tell me," the blonde continued, reaching out to take Blair's hand. She stared at Blair intently, conveying a silent promise not to yell at her for anything she might have done. "I wouldn't judge you. And I wouldn't tell Nicolas, if that's what you're worried about –"
"It still smells like him," she heard Blair whisper.
"It…what?" Serena asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
"The wall," Blair answered.
"The wall…?" Serena shook her head and repositioned herself on the floor, crossing her legs. "Blair, you're not making any sense. Please, please tell me what's wrong."
"Chuck," Blair supplied, then sighed.
Serena raised her brows in surprise. "And now you've completely lost me."
"The wall smells like Chuck," Blair said simply, as if it clarified everything. "And I haven't relapsed. Well…at least not in the way you think."
"Tell me," Serena pressed.
"It's strange," Blair continued as if she hadn't heard Serena speak. "It's been ages. Dorota had someone wallpaper over it and it's been painted more times than I can remember but I can still see the stain. I can still smell it."
Blair dropped her hand to her side and lifted a white box with gold lettering. She pulled out the bottle of perfume nestled inside and glared at it.
"It's some kind of a curse," Blair said. "It keeps coming back to haunt me."
Serena looked down at the bottle in Blair's hand. "Blair, life isn't a fairytale," Serena reassured her. "There's no such thing as curses."
"But everything's spiraling out of control, S. I don't know what to do," she said, a desperate note in her voice. "Chuck followed me to Paris –"
"He did what?"
"– and he did the most un-Chuck-like thing! Well…after he sweet-talked Colette at my office and then faked being drunk to get into my hotel room and then kissed me" – Blair paused to take breath – "that's when he did the most un-Chuck-like – Serena, what are you doing?"
Serena glanced up from her phone with a murderous look in her eyes, her thumb already scrolling through her contacts. "I'm calling Chuck," she huffed. "I'm going to yell at him, and then I'm going to fucking kill him."
"Don't!" Blair shrieked, snatching the phone out of Serena's hands.
"Blair, you have to stop him!" Serena demanded. "You can't let Chuck keep doing this. Nicolas is going to find out and he's going to be livid, and frankly, I don't know why you're not jumping through hoops to get as far away from Chuck as possible."
"I did," Blair replied. "I tried to get away from him, but you know how persistent the Basstard can be. He never stops."
Serena's eyes lit up. "I could have Nate talk to him."
Blair shot a disbelieving look at her best friend. "No offense, but Chuck can run circles around Nate. He wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell of convincing him to do anything."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Honestly?" Blair sighed, looking down at the perfume in her hand again. "There's nothing I can do. I've exhausted every option I have short of changing my name and moving to the other side of the world."
"He'd probably still find you even if you did," Serena snorted, and Blair smiled half-heartedly in return.
"Regardless," she murmured. "I don't know that I would want to hide myself properly."
"What do you mean?"
"When Nicolas and I came back from France for the engagement party and I saw Chuck, I was livid," Blair said. "I saw him leaning up against his limo with that…smirk of his, and all of the anger came rushing back to me: anger about Jenny, the Empire Hotel, Jack…all of his lies. It was overwhelming.
"He gave me diamond earrings the next day," Blair continued. "But I gave them back to him. The earrings and the necklace he gave me for my seventeenth birthday. And that's when he kissed me on the street and you know what? I didn't stop him. I could have, but I didn't. And since then, I've been trying to ignore the horrible feeling that he wasn't the only one to blame.
"I don't think it's just Chuck's fault anymore," Blair explained. "I think I'm allowing him to get close to me. Because I'm not even…upset about it anymore. I'm not resigned, I'm not frustrated…I'm encouraging it. When Chuck kissed me, all I could think was that I didn't want it to end. I wasn't thinking about Nicolas while it was happening; it was like he didn't exist, and that's not a normal reaction!"
"But –"
"And now I'm terrified, S!" Blair cried, slamming the perfume box against the floor next to her. "What does this all mean? Am I just trying to get closure? Do I still love him? Is it even possible to love two men at the same time?"
"B, I don't know," Serena whispered. "It was different with me…when I was torn between Nate and Dan so long ago…"
"But how did you choose?" Blair begged. "How did you know that Nate was the one? How?"
Serena felt her heart twisting in her chest. She hated to see Blair in such pain…she wished she could tell her what she needed to hear. But the truth was, she didn't know how she knew Nate was the one, she just…knew. It really was that cliché: she just knew.
"I'm so scared, S," Blair whimpered. "I still want him. God, I want him and it's ripping me apart inside."
Before she could speak, Blair had launched herself into Serena's arms. She whispered soothing sounds as she cradled her best friend's shaking body and wished she knew what to say to help. But there was a nagging in the back of her mind: perhaps this was a situation that couldn't be solved with words or advice. Maybe the only way she could help was by being a shoulder to cry on.
But as a fresh sob shook Blair, Serena resolved not to sit around and watch Blair destroy herself: she was going to do something about this problem.
Serena rarely paced. She found a brisk walk through Central Park much more productive and therapeutic, not to mention less repetitive; plus, if she'd taken to pacing away all of the worries she'd had over the years, the soles of many pairs of shoes would have been worn through.
But as the sun set on the city and cast its shadows across the bedroom floor, she paced with determination. The strain on her conscious was making her stomach do flip-flops and made it almost impossible to sit still. Her thumb had hovered over Nate's name in her cell phone more times than she could count.
She needed good advice or a stiff drink. Or both.
Her best friend was in a precarious position, one that Serena wasn't sure she could help with. Well, she could help…she just didn't know whose side to take.
Despite their differences in the past, she and Chuck had become close. She admired his devotion to Bass Industries and secretly adored the affection he and their mother had for one another. Even their weekly family brunch seemed incomplete if he wasn't able to attend. Chuck Bass had become a true brother to her in recent years, and she never thought she'd say it, but she loved him.
Nicolas was a different story.
From the moment she'd heard her friend mention him, Serena knew he would be the one to finally make her happy, and any doubts she may have had were forgotten the moment she met him. There was no uncertainty, no best-friend-trial-period before she gave her stamp of approval; she'd fallen under his spell just as quickly as Blair had.
The way he looked at her – a heady mix of tenderness and desire – reminded her a bit of Chuck, but it wasn't…quite the same. The best way she could describe it to Nate was that Nicolas seemed intense. He indulged Blair but didn't spoil her, listened attentively when she argued and provided equally impassioned retorts, encouraged their freedom as individuals but insisted on time for "them". It was clear to Serena that he wanted very much for her to remain the strong, beautiful woman she was.
True, he'd made some mistakes. Once, Nicolas had incurred Blair's wrath by asking her why she had gone to NYU instead an Ivy. Serena still laughed when she remembered the frantic calls from Nicolas over the next few days: Blair had barred him from her office and her apartment and ignored all of his calls and texts. It was still early in their relationship and he sounded so sad and contrite, so Serena had taken pity on him and instructed him on how to get back into Blair's good graces.
But giving Blair the chateau without consulting her had been a disaster, even though the romantic in Serena saw how he hoped it would play out. And from what Blair had told her about their ensuing fight, he'd hit a few nerves with regards to her past with Chuck…but Blair admitted that she couldn't really hold it against him. She hadn't told him any details about their breakup, and from what Serena knew, she hadn't even told Nicolas that her ex was Chuck Bass until he crashed their engagement party.
But it was clear that Chuck had done the most damage to her best friend. He'd done things that still made Serena sick to her stomach to think about, but it wasn't really her fight so she'd forgiven him. And so, it seemed, had Blair.
Serena stopped pacing to perch on the edge of the bed she shared with Nate. Hearing Blair's confession about Chuck had rattled her, though she supposed she shouldn't be too surprised. Her two friends had a strange connection to each other, one that she wouldn't pretend to understand.
But to hear Blair say that she still wanted Chuck was like stepping into their junior year of high school all over again, and remembering the haunted look in her eyes gave Serena goose bumps.
What had he done to her to make Blair Waldorf crack? What could he have said to make her love for Nicolas waver, to make her even consider throwing him away?
Yes, this was a problem. This was a serious problem, and Serena didn't have a clue what to do…but she had to do something.
Stop fidgeting and think, she commanded herself. What would Blair do if the situation was reversed?
A laugh bubbled up as soon as she thought it: Blair would take out a hit on the ex-lover in question, obviously. Problem solved before dinner, and she wouldn't have even gotten her hands dirty. Or maybe Blair would order him to stay as far away from her friend as possible, lest she expose whatever terrible secret she'd uncovered to blackmail him with.
Obviously a hit man is out of the question, Serena mused. And there's nothing I could possibly blackmail Chuck with…as if I could ever get away with it.
She sat deep in thought for some time, running through the list of schemes she or Blair had run over the years. None sounded appropriate, however; these were people she loved, not hated. Scheming wouldn't solve anything in this situation. No, she needed to do something else, something…
Oh, no. No, no, no, she thought, falling back onto the bed. This is not good. Stupid, dumb, naïve Serena. Why didn't I see this before?
There was no need to meddle, not when the situation had already progressed as far as it had. Something had already been set into motion and no amount of scheming would be able to stop it. What she needed to do was damage control. She knew that all Nicolas wanted was Blair, and she knew Blair was playing a silent game of tug-of-war with her emotions concerning both of them, but just how far was Chuck willing to go to win Blair back? Would this be an all-out war or would he go quietly? If it escalated, how could Serena stop him?
She bolted upright as a paralyzing train of thought began swimming through her mind: would you really want to stop him? What if Blair's supposed to be with him after all, not Nicolas? If Blair wants him and she's only been back a month, what's it going to be like after a year? How far will this situation escalate before something terrible happens?
"Shit," Serena hissed. "Shit, shit, shit."
She stood abruptly and snatched her purse from the bed, fingers already flying across the screen of her cell phone to tell Nate why she wouldn't be there when he got home.
Going 2 Chuck's. Should be back for dinner. –S
The elevator doors had barely closed when her phone beeped:
Do u need help with anything? –N
Serena smiled at his thoughtfulness and nearly took him up on his offer, but knew it would be best to talk to Chuck alone first. She needed to get a firmer grip on the situation before she brought in reinforcements.
Just going 2 confirm Sunday in person. Call u on the way home xo –S
She felt a twinge of guilt for lying to Nate, but she knew it was for the best. And it wasn't a total lie: she fully intended to make sure her brother was at brunch that week. She hoped she was making the right decision by telling Chuck how Blair felt about him and letting the chips fall where they may.
This could get ugly.
The first thing Serena noticed when the elevator doors opened to Chuck's Empire penthouse was the smell: there wasn't the faintest hint of cigars, liquor, or pot. In fact, she detected fresh paint mixed with a recently cooked meal and…was that popcorn?
"Chuck?" she called.
"In here, sis," Chuck answered, voice coming from the direction of the kitchen.
Serena started towards the rear of the penthouse, glancing at Chuck's bedroom out of habit – in the old days, she'd often find Blair standing near the bed, modeling dresses in the large mirror in the corner of the room. But she stopped dead at the sight that greeted her: there was nothing familiar about her brother's room at all.
Cream colored walls were sage green and large abstract oil paintings hung on them. The lighting was bright and so was the white furniture, which complemented the wall coloring and gave a meditative, clean feel. The flooring had been replaced by rich teak, cleverly placed rugs added to give extra warmth to the room. A large flat screen hung on the wall opposite the bed, which Serena noticed had also changed. It was low and made from a slightly lighter wood than the floor, with sleek lines and a modern feel. The cream-colored bed set looked warm and soft.
"Sis, did you get lost or someth – oh," Chuck said as he stood next to his sister, who was ogling the room with complete surprise. He shoved his hands in his pockets and took the opportunity to admire the transformation himself.
"I had it redone while I was in Paris," he explained. "I thought it was time…for a change."
Serena blinked slowly as she took in the new design. It didn't look like Chuck Bass' taste at all, but she had to admit that it looked good.
"Come see the rest," Chuck said with a nod towards the door. Serena followed him out and felt her jaw drop when she saw the rest of the penthouse.
"Who are you," she said, dazed. "And what have you done with my brother?"
The pool table was gone and replaced by two crimson chairs, a small oval table and a huge sheepskin rug. A fireplace had been added where his pool cues had once been displayed. The remainder of the furniture had been swapped out for pieces that complemented the walls, which had been lightened several shades. A low table sat between the large couch and a large flat screen television.
The only thing that remained the same was the bar in the back corner of the sitting room, but the chairs had been replaced and the cabinet was now the same bright white as his bedroom furniture.
It looked…light.
"What do you think?"
"I think…that there's no way you had all this done in a few days."
"I'm Chuck Bass," he replied with a shrug. "And you haven't even seen the kitchen yet."
"Why?" Serena asked, turning to face him. "I mean, I like it. A lot. But this is a huge transformation, Chuck. It doesn't seem like your style."
"I told you, I just thought it was time for a change."
"I heard you the first time," Serena said, moving to the couch to sit. "But what sparked the need for change in the first place?"
Chuck's eyes darkened for a fraction of a second before running his fingers across his jaw line. Serena knew it was his attempt at nonchalance and realized she wouldn't get a real answer from him without careful prodding.
"It just came to me, sis," he said. "Now, I was just about to watch a movie. Popcorn's getting cold – do you want to join?"
"Popcorn, Chuck?" Serena inquired.
"I was under the impression that's what most people eat when they go to the movie theaters."
She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. "Fine," she said. "I'll have some, but I'm not staying for the whole movie. Nate and I have dinner plans."
Chuck nodded and disappeared, reemerging a moment later with a large bowl of popcorn. He took a handful before he handed it to her and sat down.
"Well," he said a minute later, after swallowing a few pieces. "It leaves something to be desired, but it isn't completely repugnant."
Serena smiled at him and popped a few kernels in her mouth. "Remember when we all watched movies at Blair's house when as kids," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "And she refused to let us eat popcorn? Instead Dorota made those little –"
"Pastries and mini-cakes," Chuck finished quietly. "I remember."
Serena glanced up at the wistfulness of his voice. His previous excitement from showing her his redecorated penthouse had faded and he appeared to be lost in thought.
Probably about Blair, Serena thought. Now's your chance to find out what his intentions are. Well…no use beating around the bush.
"She still cares for you, Chuck," Serena said softly, testing the waters.
"I know," Chuck admitted.
Serena raised her brows. "You do?" she asked.
Chuck nodded and threw an arm across the back of the couch. "Way ahead of you, sis. We've discussed it at length: she'll always be my friend. Just my friend."
"But –"
"No, it's fine," he assured her. "I'm fine. I've accepted it. I've been a fool since the moment I fell in love with her. You saw what I did to her; I took advantage of her love and used it to suit my own twisted ambitions...I treated her like she meant nothing to me…"
He shook his head slightly as Serena shifted uncomfortably in her seat, well aware of what he meant. She had forgiven him for his behavior, yes, but it had been years since it had been brought up between them.
"And she didn't have to offer me her friendship," he continued. "Especially after how I've acted since she came back from France."
Serena blinked at him in amazement. The pain in his voice made it clear that fresh wounds had been opened recently, but she had never heard Chuck speak quite that way before. Had he really grown up the way Blair had claimed?
"So you're…over her?" she ventured.
Chuck tightened his jaw and looked down at his coffee table, eyeing its centerpiece like it was about to spring to life at any moment. Several silent moments passed before he spoke again.
"No," he answered finally. "I'll never be over her."
Serena exhaled in relief. He'd done terrible things to Blair in the past, but he was a different man now, and she knew that she was doing the right thing. He deserved the chance to pursue Blair, and he deserved to know what Serena knew before he decided to give up or continue fighting for her. He deserved to know the truth.
She reached out to take his hand to command his attention.
"She still loves you," she whispered, squeezing his hand gently.
Chuck looked up at her then, his gaze so intensely hopeful that she was almost reduced to tears. But before she could blink, his body slumped – all of the light and brightness had gone out.
"I suppose she does…in her own way," Chuck acquiesced solemnly. He sighed and dropped his head down, covering his face with his hands. "But not the way I want her to. I've tried everything, Serena."
"Bullshit," his sister declared, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder. "You've done nothing but scheme to get her back since you saw her again."
Chuck raised his head to glare at her. "Now, listen –"
"Hush," Serena instructed. "You listen to me. You know there was no part of me that sympathized with you when Blair left you years ago. You did terrible things to her. But I realized something, Chuck.
"It's been five years…and you're still a wreck," she continued in a softer tone. "You've been hiding your pain and your guilt so well that even I didn't notice it until Blair came back. And at first, I thought that you just couldn't stand to see her in love and marrying someone other than you. I thought you were scheming to make her suffer or break up her marriage. But you still hate yourself for what you did to her."
"Stop," Chuck warned.
"I understand what's been going on now," Serena pushed. She had no intention of stopping, not until she found out exactly how far Chuck was willing to go. "You were falling apart, dying after Blair left, and now it's like…you've come back to life."
"Serena."
"You never stopped loving her. You're in pain."
He winced at her last words. Yes, he was in pain: he was being forced to watch the love of his life marry a man who wasn't him. He had to watch Blair get her fairytale ending from someone else, because he'd gone and fucked it up too badly to be fixed.
"No wonder you're been acting…like you have," Serena continued. "You can't even drink it away, can you?"
He shook his head slowly. "If I thought it would help, I would."
"So what are you going to do?"
Chuck fiddled with his cufflinks. "I suppose I'm going to do nothing."
"Nothing?" Serena scoffed. "But, Chuck –"
"That's enough," Chuck growled. "I'm not going to do anything because Blair's not mine anymore. She's in love with Nicolas and she's going to marry him."
"But you still love her," she said gently. She reached out to put her hand on his, but he recoiled from her touch and flew to his feet.
"It doesn't matter how I feel, it's over!" he shouted. "And weren't you just here a few weeks ago begging me to leave Blair alone, because she was engaged and off-limits? God, Serena, this isn't a game. This is Blair's life."
Serena shot up from the couch and sent the bowl of popcorn flying. "Yes, it's Blair's life," she snapped. "But did it cross your mind before you just gave up that you might still have a chance? That maybe she would start to fall for you again? You're back in her life now whether you like it or not. So you don't get to take the easy way out, Chuck Bass."
"I am not taking the easy way out," he grumbled.
"Yes, you are," Serena fired back. "She's two months away from going down the aisle and you're scared shitless because you might lose her for good. I mean, am I supposed to believe that Blair asked you to be just friends and you just gave in without a fight?"
"That's exactly what happened," Chuck said. "And if you don't believe me, ask the future Mrs. Faria."
Serena shook her head. "That doesn't sound like you at all."
"You didn't think my remodeling 'looked like me', did you?" he retorted. "The penthouse, it turns out, isn't the only thing that's getting an upgrade."
"I think you're making a mistake –"
"I'm not," Chuck interjected. "I'm going to be a new man. Things are different now…can't you feel it, sis? When you look at your life, does it still feel the same way that it did a year ago? How about five years ago?"
"Of course my life is different: I grew up," Serena snapped. "But you're forcing yourself to change without knowing what that even means. You haven't earned your growth and you certainly haven't really learned anything – except that when you don't get what you want, you can just run away – and because of that, your 'growth' isn't real."
"Who are you to judge whether it's real or not?"
"I know what it's like to force yourself to grow up, to induce a personality change," Serena shot back. "Do yourself a favor and find out why you're making this change. Is it because you honestly want to be different, or is it because you're trying to change into someone Blair could love? Someone like…Nicolas?"
"What the hell are you talking about? Have you been watching Lifetime movies?"
"Fine," she huffed, snatching her purse from the couch. "I came to let you know that you still have a chance with Blair, but if you're just going to be an asshole, forget it. Do what you want. But so help me, Chuck: when the day comes that you regret letting Blair go – and it will – I won't let you anywhere near her."
She whirled around and stomped towards the elevator then, her finger stabbing hard at the button. Chuck watched her with fists clenched tightly at his sides and ears ringing with her prediction.
"And don't forget about brunch this weekend," she said as the elevator doors opened. "Unless that's something the new Chuck Bass doesn't do."
"I'll be there," he grumbled at the now-empty penthouse. His fists gradually unclenched as he looked down at the popcorn strewn across the floor.
At least she didn't break anything, he mused.
A few minutes later, the popcorn had been picked up from the floor and he'd washed the bowl before putting it away. When his stomach started rumbling, he made his usual call to room service and sat down on the couch to wait.
When Serena had started talking about Blair, he could actually feel his insides boiling. It was hard enough dealing with the consequences of being "just friends" with her on his own, but adding his sister to the mix? It was a miracle that he didn't lose his temper completely.
It was obvious that Serena was just looking out for him. She had a heart of gold and it hurt her to see him in pain. Hell, it hurt him, too. His entire family had been holding their breath for years, hoping he would find someone to replace Blair. They probably would have been content if he'd brought anyone to brunch, but he remained completely unattached.
Over the years, he'd wondered why being alone suddenly felt so terrible. His father had never really been around when he was growing up and he hadn't exactly formed close relationships with his nannies. Truthfully, Nate had been the only constant in his life until Blair came along. But with Blair came Serena, Lily, Eric, and both sets of Blair's parents, and when she disappeared from his life he was still left with his adopted family and Nate. He was well-loved now, but he felt just as alone as he had growing up.
It was strange, he often mused, how such an emotionless child could become a man who craved love.
Particularly, Blair's love.
He saw the truth in Serena's words; regret over letting Blair go would surely come swiftly. Long before her wedding, he was sure. But he just couldn't continue trying to trap her into spending time with him. He'd kissed her twice and she gave absolutely no indication that she would leave Nicolas, what more could he do – apart from take her against her wishes and tell her fiancé what had happened? No, neither the old nor "new" Chuck Bass would ever do something so vile.
Admitting defeat seemed like the most viable option, as far as he was concerned. The last five years hadn't killed him. Why not just live in solitude for the rest of his life? What did he really have to lose? Bass Industries would flourish without any distractions, and perhaps down the road he would meet someone who didn't bore him after only a few days.
Well, he'd have to think about that another time; his stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought.
The ding of his elevator interrupted his ruminations.
"Mr. Bass?"
Chuck stood at the sound of the distinctive baritone voice. "Matthew?"
The tall, lanky private investigator walked with long, smooth strides through the entryway and into the living room. He stopped a several feet from Chuck and clasped his hands behind his back, a habit he'd picked up in the military many years before.
"I tried to reach you on your cell phone several times this afternoon, sir," the man explained. "You instructed me to be in touch as soon as possible."
Chuck's ears perked up. "You have the information I requested?"
"Yes, sir," Matthew replied, unclasping his hands to reach into the inside pocket of his jacket. He withdrew a thin envelope and held it out for Chuck to take.
"Thank you for bringing this by, Matthew," the young billionaire said, anxious to read its contents. "That will be all for now."
With a small dip of his head, the PI took his leave. Not a moment was wasted; Chuck slid a finger under the envelope's partially sealed flap before the elevator doors had closed again. His heart had begun to gallop in his chest and he surprised himself by his chanting; he had never been religious nor had any inclinations to try it, but he was suddenly seized by a desperate attempt to call in any favors he could:
Please, God, don't let it be serious. Nothing serious, nothing serious, God.
This was Blair's father, after all. He knew the pain of losing a parent, knew it very well, and it was something he never wanted to happen to Blair. Especially not her father. Not the man she adored and loved more than anyone else in the world. She would be absolutely devastated if she lost him.
Please let it be good news. Please.
He almost ripped the contents as he tugged them free and threw the envelope aside. The papers unfolded like an accordion in his hands.
Please, please, he's a good man, don't let it be bad news, please.
Dark eyes skimmed the first page and nearly destroyed the documents as he flipped to the next page, then everything became a blur.
The next thing he processed clearly was yanking shirts and pants from his closet and throwing them into an open suitcase on his bed. He jerked the dresser drawers open and practically poured their contents into the suitcase – belts, suspenders, socks, underwear – before remembering the phone in his pocket.
"You've reached Bass Industries, this is -"
"Maria," Chuck barked into the receiver as he tore through his bathroom for the essential toiletries. "Get the Bass jet ready. Now."
"Mr. Bass, of course!" his secretary squeaked. "Where –"
"Lyon," he snapped. "Get a helicopter ready as well – I want to take off within the hour. Tell the board I'm taking a leave of absence."
Yes, yes...this came out much later than I anticipated, and there are probably a dozen or so mistakes. But it was twice as long as I originally intended, so does that help? :) Btw, I think you all know by now how much I love cliffhangers...so I have to warn you, all I have for the next chapter is an outline. With school and work and life, it will be...a little while before I update.
But for now I'd like to thank ivorykeys09, who has really gone above and beyond to lend a hand with this story!
Also, as always, thank you to everyone who has added alerts to CS. It really makes me smile! – though not as much as my reviewers: TerraBeth, ivorykeys09, MegamiTenchi, Breakfastinwonerland, ellibells, 88Mary88, LeftWriter224, TriGemini, Temp02, Cruzin' Bosco, Nice (thanks!), and annablake (I promise I'll be responding soon! :) )