A/N: My favourite scene so far to write, a fourth part is on its way hopefully... I really think I won't put a 4th part up here till I get three more reviews from authors that haven't already commented (but those who have, please continue!) I have so many hits and so little reviews. It's annoying. I'm not very patient.

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Blair had spent a whole hour riding with Chuck Bass, but having spent nearly half the time giving considerable uncomfortable thought to their unfortunate history, Blair had decided that neither suicide or murder was not the answer to her problem. Vile beast though Chuck certainly was, she did not really want to see him dead and doubted her ability to bring such a thing about in any case. And she certainly has no intention of killing herself and thus ridding him of his problem. She has also reached a conclusion. No matter how much he tried to convince her and himself otherwise, Chuck found her desirable.

The moment he had agreed to take her back to Tara, she would have let him do anything he wanted to her and revelled in the doing.

The horse and carriage came to a sudden stop, and so did Blair's trail of thought. Chuck stood up. It occurred to Blair, that he looked younger and more carefree than she had ever seen him. The tiny lines about his eyes had eased and his mouth was relaxed, almost smiling even in repose. Broad-shouldered and lithe and overwhelmingly handsome, he began to talk. "I'm leaving you here."

"You're what? Chuck, where are you going?" Blair knew better than to try to reason or plead with him. He would only hurt her more. She had learned to withdraw to a place that existed only insider herself.

"I'm going, my dear, to join the army." Chuck had made a hasty decision, but it was worth it. It would keep him occupied, it would be worthwhile. Maybe then he could prove himself in Blair's eyes, that he is a hero. Even if he ended up dying, at least then as she stand at his funeral, she would think of him as courageous.

Perhaps a saint would not have watched her so intensely, but Chuck had fallen so far short of sainthood in the past year and a half that he no longer had to worry about what a saint would do. He watched her with enjoyment, admiring every lovely curve and hollow. Her masses of hair were twisted into a soft pile on top of her head and secured with an elegant gold pick. She was looking down, so he caught just glimpses of the fathoms-deep brown of her eyes. But her lashes were long and black and feathery as they cast faint shadows over her cheeks, and her lips looked as soft and pink as the lushest rose. He admired the elegant lines of her face, the daintiness of her features, the graceful movement of her hands when she lifted them to stop him.

"Oh, you're joking. I could kill you for scaring me so." His eyes narrowed as the calm statement, she could have put a bit more effort.

"I'm very serious, Blair. I'm going to join up with our brave lads in gray." He hoped she would try to stop him, pull him back when he finally left her in the carriage, but if she did, would she really be the woman he loved?

"Chuck, you must be joking." She muttered, and the flames that leaped to life in those devil's eyes nearly unnerved him.

"Selfish to the end, aren't you? Thinking of your own precious hide with never a thought for the noble cause." Chuck unable to stop himself, scowled at her.

"Chuck, how could you do this to me, and why should you go now that, after it's all over and I need you, why? Why?" Before she thought, on a blinding blaze of temper, she slapped him. His head jerked back, his eyes widened, though just for a moment she thought she saw the merest hint of satisfaction in them.

"Why? Maybe it's because I've always had a weakness for lost causes, once they're really lost. Or maybe, maybe I'm ashamed of myself. Who knows?" Chuck said bitterly, he was ashamed of himself, who wouldn't be? Even his own family had disowned him. Nobody cared for what he thought, and the only way he could regain some dignity was to join the army, and the woman he loved was to selfish to let him go.

"You should die of shame to leave me here alone and helpless." Blair growled.

"You, helpless? Heaven help the Yankees if they capture you."

"Oh Chuck, please don't go. You can't leave me, please, I'll never forgive you." She assured him, dropping her eyes and then flicking a veiled look up at him. The glint in his eyes brightened while the centers went dark.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'll never understand or forgive myself. And if a bullet gets me, so help me, I'll laugh at myself for being an idiot. But there's one thing that I do know. And that is I love you, Blair. In spite of you and me and the whole silly world going to pieces around us, I love you. Because we're alike. Bad lots, both of us. Selfish and shrewd. But able to look things in the eyes and call them by their right names." His arms slid around her waist to clamp her to him, and he was bending her back over his arm, kissing her as if he were starving for the taste of her mouth. Dizzy Blair clung to him, opening her mouth to his endlessly revelling even in the sharp taste of whiskey which previously she had despised, returning his kiss with a fiery need of her own. Her arms wrapped around his neck as if she would never let him go; her tongue touched his, stroked it and shuddered before pushing him away.

"Don't hold me like that." She pushed him away eagerly, turning her head to make sure nobody was staring, or had seen.

Clearly he was determined to keep her in arms length. Scowling, Blair studied that lean, handsome face that frowned so sternly back at her. His hold on her hands had slackened now, and their fingers were still intertwined apparently of their own volition, completely oblivious to the angry words that were being exchanged.

"Blair, look at me. I love you more than I've ever loved any woman. And I've waited longer for you than I've ever waited for any woman." He stared at her for a moment, his mouth going tight. Those light eyes flickered with anger and something else as they moved over her flushed face. Then his eyes moved to her body in its well patched green dress, resting for a moment on heaving breasts and tiny waist before coming back to her eyes.

"Here's a soldier of the South that loves you, Blair. Wants to feel your arms around him, wants to carry the memory of your kisses into battle with him. Never mind about loving me. You're a woman who's sending a soldier to his death with a beautiful memory." He wanted Blair Waldorf. The knowledge came to him with the blinding light of truth. He wanted her to be his, his woman. For months feelings of possessiveness, towards her had been growing inside him undetected. Now they sprung forth in full bloom. She was his, like it or not. She just had not yet acknowledged her downfall. The problem was, how was he to go about making her do so?

"You're a low-down, cowardly, nasty thing, you! They were right. Everybody was right, you, you aren't a gentleman-" Blair paused, "Oh, go on. I want you to go. I hope a cannonball lands slap on you, I hope you're blown into a million pieces, I…" She would swear to anybody she had meant it, but to herself, well she couldn't lie. She was hurt, hurt that Chuck was leaving so sudden.

"Never mind the rest, I follow your general idea. And when I'm dead on the order of my country, I hope your conscience heard you. Good-bye Blair." And with that, Chuck left.