A/N: China is awesome! Don't know when I'll update next, however.
Her throat is throbbing, aching, painful.
Blair rolls over to her side and in her sleepily delirious state tries to swallow. It hurts even more, and she winces at the pain that feels like a sharp blade she had swallowed stuck in her throat. Fuck. If there's one thing she hates more than anything, it's this feeling: being sick, when its not cold and yet you feel oddly shivery. But she wonders if it's just her mind playing tricks.
Against the bright sunlight, she opens her eyes. He's already dressed in a new suit, his hair still a little wet, it seems, from taking a shower, and talking to someone on his cellphone. He's facing the window overlooking Tuscany, and from what she can make out, he voice is strained and frustrated.
"No, I already told you, cancel everything this week and move it to next week," he bit out, trying to keep his voice in check, she thinks. "Look--I'm sorry, you'll just have to. . .Tell Mr. Kiyoto we'll pay for all his expenses. Yes, yes, I'm sure."
When he turns back with a sigh, his eyes convey surprise at seeing her sitting up. She doesn't fail to notice how tired his eyes look.
"What time is it?" she asks him. Seas of silence seem to stretch before them.
"Nearly noon." And then he pauses, as if hesitating to go near her. "Did I wake you?"
"No. But why didn't you?"
"You said you were tired."
"Are you?"
He frowns, his eyes shifting to the phone in his hands. "No. Woke at eight."
"Early," she responds. It feels awkward again, as if last night didn't even matter anymore, all forgotten. She twists the edge of a pillow and thinks of something else to say. But her throat hurts too much, and her mind feels heavy.
"So how did you sleep?"
She tries to smile. "Better than in a long time," she replies, hoping for a smirk or smile on his lips. She receives a small ghost of the former, and is disappointed. "Do we have plans today?"
"You do. I'm just going to follow--wherever you want to go." His footsteps thuds against the carpet as he walks into the bedroom, and sits next to her on the bed. "You decide."
"I have it in my planner. Let me take a shower first?"
He smirks, half-heartedly. "Is that an invitation?"
"Not really," she laughs, an effort considering how lightheaded and shivery, strangely, she feels. "Give me ten minutes."
He cocks an eyebrow.
"Okay, thirty." He places a quick kiss on her brow before she trudges off to get some clothes and head to the shower. And even as she does, she feels unwilling too, certain that she's sick, that her throat is not just dry but it really is sore. Then again, she reminds herself, she's always been a hypochondiac.
So she turns her mind to something else when cold--too cold--water splashes from the shower head down to her: Chuck. He seems distant when he spoke to her earlier, like something had happened in between last night or this morning. Blair tries to recall the look on his face, to analuze it. Was it. . .resignation? Maybe it was quiet bitterness. But over what? She had not done anything wrong yet, and no one knew where they were. Nate and her family certainly didn't, unless they were caught.
Twenty minutes later, she steps out and a breeze from nowhere chills her into shivers. The mirror reflecting her reflection seems to be relaying her feelings; she looks like she hasn't had a good night's sleep when she had, her eyes look redder than usual, her face paler. Blair doesn't have it in her gith now to care too much. Quickly, she dries herself and gets into warm clothes, aware of the throbbing in her head and throat. It's even colder outside the bathroom.
Blair uncaps the water bottle on the table and most of it. It doesn't help much, but at least her throat doesn't feel as dry. Now she's sick, and she knows it. Her mind puzzles over how to tell Chuck, hot to tell him without saying it in reality. It would ruin their week, she thinks bitterly. It would ruin everything.
"Maybe you're right, we should stay in," she tells Chuck, after finding him scanning over his files on the bed. Their bed. "I mean, we should just relax and let go of the jet lag today."
"I thought we agreed we do what you want."
"And now I'm saying we can do what you want."
"What changed?"
"Nothing. Today, we do what you want, and tomorrow me," she replies calmly, attempting to appear perfectly fine. "Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it." He's propped on his elbows facing her. "I dressed for nothing, then."
She hopes the smile she puts on her face isn't too transparent. "I like a well-dressed man."
"Do you mind if I make a call or two?" He frowns. "It won't take too long. Just Daniel and an investor. It's just I haven't really taken a week-long vacation ever since I took over Bass Industries and had a son."
"Go ahead." She's relieved, actually. It's still early, and she's just woken up, but she feels exhausted. She can't keep pretending.
"You should order some breakfast."
"Not hungry."
He nods and goes to make his calls. She hears him debate and negotiate with the investor ; he's put off probably a dozen meetings and papers to fly with her to Tuscany; he put the business behind her, when he knows very well there are consequences. A mixture of guilt and gratitude and overwhelming appreciation fills her. Then talking to Daniel, he takes on a softer, but still paternal tone.
From across the suit, she smiles at him He nods back softly, and after a couple of seconds of looking at her, turns away.
"Blair, what food do you want? For brunch," Chuck says again. "We can't not eat the whole day."
A lump forms in her throat.
Tea, she thinks, would sooth her throat. With peppermint, or cinnamon."
"Bistecca Fiorentina. It's steak," Chuck suggets. She throws him a horrified look. "For me, not you," he adds with a chuckle. She wants to kiss that smile on his face.
She thumbs over the menu, but theres nothing enough for her to feign appetite for. But as she doesn't want Chuck to worry , she settles with a light salad and tea. Dialling room service, she repeats their orders and is told the food will be up as soon as possible.
Chuck is hauling more of his paperwork out from his briefcase to work in the other room. He follows her gaze and adds, "I just have to go over these contracts and sign them. It's not going to take too long. I'm really sorry, Blair."
Pausing. he lingers, and she half-expects him to lunge forward and kiss her. But he looks into her eyes intently for a few seconds and a blink later, he's already far away in another part of the suite. And this time, she knows that look on his face. Hurt and disappointment and frustration all in one.
But why? she wonders.
Everything seems to go obadly for them. Maybe it's divine intervention telling her adultery is not for her.
Please review! Couldn't make it long. Busy.