But there's nowhere to hide from the ghost in my mind
It's cold in these bones of a man and a child
And there's no one who knows, and there's nowhere to go
There's no one to see who can see to my soul
-Steven Satar-
When one is stiff and sore, exhausted from jet lag, and facing a whirlwind of wedding related crap for the next two days, one is allowed to dress for comfort when not donning the obligatory tux. When one is Chuck Bass, however, that proves problematic. His clothes are not designed for comfort, but rather for style. So after rummaging through his closet for a ridiculous amount of time, he finally settles on a button up shirt, a tie, a sweater, and a pair of plaid pants. It isn't exactly casual, but it is as close to comfortable as he can get, especially when he is going to be under the stern and watchful eyes of his father. Bart is always quick to find fault with his son, and Chuck is not about to give him any excuse so close to the ceremony to revoke his position as best man. That is his opportunity to prove that he can be counted on and should be given another chance to live with the rest of the family.
He wouldn't ever admit it, but after staying in the joint der Woodsen-Bass penthouse, his suite seems downright lonely. There was always something going on in the apartment, always people around to take the edge off his despair. He'd gotten used to it, and didn't realize how important it had become to him until Bart had kicked him out and it was gone, and now he was willing to do almost anything to get it back.
How bitterly ironic that this seems to be a recurring theme in the story of his life.
After a short ride in the elevator, he reaches the top floor of the Palace Hotel and steps inside his old residence. The usually calm and quiet penthouse is a cacophony of carefully controlled chaos. Caterers and florists and maids and other random staff members bustle to and fro, swarming like bees while someone who is probably the wedding planner barks orders in a tone strident enough to cut through the noise. Just watching it for a couple moments gives Chuck a headache, so he decides to avoid the pandemonium and saunters up the staircase to knock quietly upon one of the doors.
"Come in," a voice calls, and he enters the bedroom, finding Eric standing before his wardrobe still clad in pajamas, his hair mussed from sleep.
"Chuck, you're back!" the younger boy greets with an infectious smile.
"Bright and early, as promised," Chuck grins, sitting down upon a chair adjacent to the unmade bed.
"How was Monte Carlo?"
Thinking of the few occasions he had spent time with Bart during the trip, and how entirely unpleasant and strained those meals had been, Chuck grimaces. "Be glad you didn't come."
"That bad, huh?"
"Worse," he acknowledges, before waving dismissively. "But enough about that. How are you doing? Did you get stuff worked out with Lily yesterday, or is she still acting weird?"
"No, Mom and I are fine now," Eric says as he opens a drawer to pull out a pair of slacks. "She just needed a little time to process everything, like you said."
"That's good."
"Yeah it is," the blonde agrees, but not with the enthusiasm one would expect.
In response, Chuck's gaze narrows in scrutiny. "You don't sound happy," he points out, watching his brother intently for subtle changes in body language. "Why is that? Is something else bothering you?"
Eric glances away for a fraction of a second, strengthening Chuck's misgivings. Something is definitely troubling him. But what?
"Have you not checked Gossip Girl today?" Eric mumbles eventually, shifting his weight, staring at the floor as if the carpet holds the secrets of the universe.
"No, not since last night," Chuck admits. "Should I have?" Anxiety uncoils in his belly, and then a thought strikes him, making his blood run cold. "Did Georgina do something else? I told you to call me if she came back here!"
If that sadistic bitch had –
"No, no," Eric insists. "It's nothing like that."
Relieved, yet still somewhat skeptical, Chuck arches one brow. "Then what is it?"
The younger boy peers at him, moistening his lips in an unconsciously nervous gesture. "Do you know Asher Hornsby?"
This catches Chuck somewhat off guard. "I've seen him around. Goes to Unity, right? On their lacrosse team?"
"Yeah, that's him."
"And what does he have to do with you?"
Eric clears his throat, a blush rising in his cheeks. "We were sort of… dating. Until last night."
"Oh, I see," Chuck ventures carefully, knowing that for Eric his sexuality is an extremely new subject for conversation. "You broke up then?"
"Yeah," Eric nods. "Because he called me a faggot."
Chuck's jaw clenches. "He what?"
"He didn't want anyone to know he was gay," the blonde explains, unaware to the anger radiating off of Chuck more strongly with every sentence. "So he was pretending to go out with my friend Jenny, but she thought the relationship was real, and I just couldn't stand there anymore and not say anything and act like I was okay with him deceiving her that way." He stops, raking his fingers through his hair. "So I confronted him about it, and demanded he tell her the truth, and rather than do that, he called me a liar and a faggot and told me to get the hell out of his party. Luckily Blair – "
Despite his rage, Chuck perks up at the mention of that name. "Blair was there?"
"Yeah. You should have seen her," Eric beams. "It was great. Somehow she'd gotten Asher's phone, and I told her to forward all our text message conversations to Gossip Girl, and she did, and now everyone knows he's gay."
Chuck blinks, wondering if Eric had somehow missed the obvious downside of outing his ex in such a manner. "But doesn't that mean everyone knows you're gay too?"
Eric's face hardens, closing down, his eyes losing the warmth they commonly hold. "Yeah," he spits in a voice Chuck has never heard before and does not like coming from his little brother. "But announcing to the whole Upper East Side that Unity's man about town likes dick was more than worth it. Asshole had it coming."
"Sounds like it," Chuck agrees, making a mental note to see that Asher Hornsby is blacklisted from every event on the social calendar that Bass Industries is even remotely connected with. Nobody hurts Eric to such a degree and escapes with only one public humiliation. He will ensure that the fucker rues the day he insulted someone Chuck Bass considers family. "Just the same," he continues, thoughts of Asher's impending ostracism putting a familiar twist in his lips, "I'm sorry you had to go through all that."
"It's not your fault Asher turned out not to be who I thought he was," Eric sighs, his expression softening back into its usual earnestness, albeit with an edge of sadness that hadn't been there before, and some tension in Chuck's shoulders he didn't even realize he was carrying relaxes. "And it isn't like I wouldn't have had to come out of the closet sometime anyway. It just happened a bit sooner than I'd anticipated is all."
"However true that may be, I still wish I had been here when it all went down," Chuck replies, if for no other reason than being able to offer support when Eric had needed it most.
"Well you're here now. That's what matters," the younger boy shrugs, a glint of mischief sparkling in the depths of his brown irises. "Besides there are more important things to fret over at the moment."
"Oh yeah?"
"Of course," Eric declares. "There's a wedding tomorrow and you have a best man speech to write!"
"How do you know I haven't already done it?" Chuck counters.
"I just do," Eric deadpans, turning back to his dresser in search of clothes. "Call it a hunch. That or I'm psychic."
Chuck scowls slightly. "You are too smart for your own good you do realize?"
Tossing Chuck a quick glance, Eric breaks into a conspiratorial grin. "I get it from my brother."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Eric van der Woodsen," Chuck laughs, throwing a decorative pillow that Eric easily dodges. "Anyway, I'll let you finish getting ready while I grab some breakfast downstairs before Serena eats all the strawberries like she usually does."
"No worries. She isn't here."
Halfway out the door, Chuck stops. "What?"
"Serena," Eric clarifies. "She's not here. She went out last night after Georgina took off. Said something about going to see Blair. They probably had a slumber party."
"A soiree."
Eric looks over in confusion, an assortment of ties clutched in his hands. "Huh?"
"Blair doesn't have slumber parties anymore," Chuck drawls, leaning against the doorframe. "She has soirees."
"Same difference," Eric frowns.
The corner of Chuck's mouth twitches in amusement. "I dare you to tell her that."
"I'd rather not," Eric winces, shaking his head rapidly. "I prefer Blair's temper when it is directed at someone other than me."
"Don't we all," Chuck snorts.
"How are things going with you and her by the way?" Eric asks, picking a red tie out of the selection he is holding and laying the rest aside.
"They're not."
"At all?"
"At all," Chuck repeats, a hint of bitterness coloring his words. "She hasn't said two words to me since she found Georgina at my suite a couple weeks back."
"Georgina was at your…" Eric squints, and then his eyes suddenly widen in horror. "Oh God! You… You two weren't – "
"No!" Chuck denies emphatically, suppressing a shudder as her remembers the kiss she'd forced him to give, the way she'd pressed against him, her evident arousal. "Hell no! I would never. I hate that bitch."
"Then why was she there?"
"Same reason she was here," Chuck whispers, tasting bile in the back of his throat, imagining he can hear her mocking laughter, her cruel voice.
Hello Chucky.
A tremor begins in his leg, traveling upwards, leaving him a bit unsteady on his feet, and suddenly all he can smell is her vile vanilla perfume, and his stomach is churning, and the faint scars on his chest where she had marked him as hers ages ago burn like a brand.
Oblivious, Eric's brow furrows in bewilderment. "Having supper?"
"Wreaking havoc," Chuck breathes, willing his racing pulse to slow.
"But what happened last night, her outing me, that… that wasn't on purpose," Eric claims. "That was an accident."
Chuck meets his eyes. Eric is older than he had been when he'd first seen the real Georgina, and he is wiser than many people twice his age, but he still possesses an aura of innocence, and nobody is going to take that from him, not if Chuck can prevent it. "Nothing Georgina Sparks says or does is ever an accident," he grinds out. "It is always premeditated, and you'd do well to remember that."
"What do you – "
"Just don't trust her," Chuck snaps, much more harshly than he intends. "Better yet, stay away from her. And if you can't, you call me. Understand?"
"Not really. No," Eric retorts.
"I just don't want anything to happen to you," Chuck says. And he means to stop there, but the next words tumble out inexplicably. "Not like it happened to me."
"Like what happened to – " Eric begins. Then his voice falters as he notes Chuck's pallid complexion, the thin film of sweat that had broken out upon his skin. "Are you okay?" he asks, moving forward swiftly to grab him, fearing the older boy is about to pass out, and as soon as his hands close over Chuck's arms, he realizes something else. "Chuck, you're… you're shaking."
"It's nothing," Chuck gasps, trying to shrug him off.
But Eric is not to be deterred. "It most definitely is something! What is wrong with you?" he demands, tightening his grip on his brother's elbow, his inquisitive stare boring into him. "You were just fine a minute ago right before… Is this… is this about Georgina?"
"No," Chuck lies, wrenching himself free, and maybe he has a tell just like Blair Waldorf when her mouth doesn't match her eyes because Eric sees through his posturing immediately.
"It is!" the blonde exclaims. "I know it is. What the hell did she do to you?"
Chuck shivers, recalling a glass of champagne…
Anyone else need a refill?
…and a leather couch.
What's wrong Chuck? Not how you envisioned it?
He swallows, blinking away a stinging in his eyes. "I… Let's just say that she… she took something very precious from me," he stammers, flinching at memories he wishes he could forget.
…touch her, touch anyone, you'll think of me, of this.
"And I wasn't ever able to get it back," he continues, unwilling to watch Eric's expression, scared of what he might see reflected there.
"Are you… You're not talking about – "
"Doesn't matter," Chuck interrupts, needing this conversation to end. "It's in the past. Just please avoid her if you possibly can, and let me know if she is making that difficult." He forces a smile and ruffles Eric's hair, feigning normalcy, praying his brother will let it go. "Now, you should get dressed. Big day today. Bigger day tomorrow. Lots of last minute details to attend to. Best not keep the parents waiting. I'll see you at the rehearsal dinner later tonight."
Without waiting for a response, he hurries down the hall, and almost reaches the staircase when Eric calls after him. "Chuck, I… I'm glad you're home."
Chuck pauses at the top of the steps. "Me too."
"And if you ever want to talk about… whatever, I'm more than willing to listen."
Chuck nods, risking a look back at the concern etched into Eric's features. "Thanks. I appreciate that. More than you know." Then he turns, fleeing down the stairs before either of them can say anything more.
He heads straight for the bathroom, locking the door securely behind him, and splashes cold water into his face while he glares at himself in the polished surface of the mirror.
Why is he reacting this way? He had confronted the whore, had told her she had no power over him anymore, and yet here he was freaking out, practically having a nervous breakdown at the mere thought of her. What the hell is his problem?
Get it together Bass. Get it fucking together.
A few minutes later, his emotions once more under rigid control, he goes into the breakfast salon and fixes himself a plate of strawberries and quiche. Trying to stay out of the way of the overstressed staff, he rounds a corner and his eyes narrow when he spots Dan Humphrey loitering outside Serena's bedroom. Whatever is he doing here?
"Well I knew housekeeping was hiring, but I had no idea their standards were so low," Chuck taunts while sideling up to St. Jude's only scholarship kid.
In response, Dan fakes a laugh. "I hate that I have to ask you this, but have you seen Serena?"
"Oh, I've seen lots of Serena," Chuck drawls with deliberate innuendo, relishing the opportunity to needle Humphrey, positive that this will take his mind off the hell spawn. Before he can add to the suggestive insinuation and goad the loser further, however, his mobile rings. Glancing at the caller ID, a flash of hope surges through him as he reads Blair's name on the screen, but he quickly hides it behind a façade of bored disdain as he raises the cell to his ear. "Are you drunk dialing again?" he says by way of greeting as he answers the call, rotating his body away from Dan for a modicum of privacy.
"Is Serena there?" Blair snaps, uncharacteristically ignoring his jibe, and Chuck immediately recognizes the anxiety behind her bitchy tone.
"No, Serena didn't come home last night," he replies, repeating what Eric had told him, a knot of dread forming in his stomach. "I thought she was with you."
"She was," Blair states. "But she left, and then…"
Her words break off abruptly, and she must be hyperventilating into the receiver because her breaths are coming over the line in panicky little rasps, and without even being aware he is doing so, Chuck is already moving towards the exit, his breakfast abandoned on a side table. He stops only long enough to glare at Dan for attempting to follow him and then shuts the door in the Brooklyn eavesdropper's face. "What's going on Waldorf?" he demands afterwards, fear causing his question to come out as a snarl. "Are you okay?"
"I can't really explain right now. Not on the phone," she sighs. "Can… can you come over?"
"I'll be there in fifteen."
"Okay," she whispers. "Hurry, Bass. I need you."
And despite the alarm that has been roused in him, he feels a familiar fluttering in his stomach. "I'm on my way."
A/N: So my muse left me to go on vacation for a while, but now I think she has returned. Woot! Thank you to everyone that has been sending me little reminders of how much they were looking forward to an update and my fellow writers on fanforum for their support. And a special thank you to Sam. You are my biggest cheerleader. It is true. *hugs*
