Note: Thank you for the reviews. Keep them coming! Here's the new chapter – warning, it's kinda angsty. Oh, who am I kidding? It's swimming, soaking in angst. Hope that's your cup of tea. ;)

Chapter One

She wasn't used to seeing him this way. Even she, the one who had seen him at his most vulnerable, had not seen him so debilitated. And she didn't know what to do.

She held his hand, hoping that it would comfort him, and lay a shaking hand to his hot-as-fire forehead. But he wouldn't, or couldn't be comforted. He twisted away from the hand she had placed on his sweaty forehead like it scalded him.

"No!" he cried out weakly, his voice wavering in agitation.

She lost hold of his hand as he jerked it away, as if warding off an attack.

"Shh," she whispered helplessly, reaching for the wet cloth by his bedside with a trembling hand. She dabbed the cloth on his flushed face, hoping that it could somehow calm him down. It seemed to work for a while. He stopped moving, his chest rising and falling quickly, his breathing a harsh rasp.

She blinked away frightened tears and quickly dipped the cloth into the bowl of water on the bedside table and proceeded to dab the area around his neck. She didn't know if this could help cool his high fever, but it seemed to soothe him in some tiny way.

When he started to tremble, Blair froze, not knowing if the cool cloth was the cause of it. Then, throwing the cloth to the bedside table, she quickly pulled the quilt to his chin and gripped his hand.

But Chuck just moaned weakly, his grey lips parting to let out a wheezy breath.

"Stop ..." he whispered. Then shuddered.

"Shh," she said, her voice trembling.

She looked at the wide open doorway. Oh God, what's taking them so long?

They were unprepared. At least, she and Nate were. She found Nate standing frozen at the entrance to Chuck's room, his blue eyes wide with shock. Blair had then marched determinedly to his side to haul him away from the suite. When she found Chuck's room empty with Serena, she was mad that she had caved in to her inner softie despite knowing better and had fallen for one of Chuck's dramatics. Again.

But then, she saw what Nate was staring at – Chuck in bed, twisting and turning restlessly, moaning gibberish.

She didn't know what to make of it at first, and thought that he was in the middle of some high. Then she saw that he couldn't breathe well, and that his skin was so white it seemed translucent, and she realised that this was something else. Something horribly, horribly wrong.

"He was fine yesterday, fine," Nate kept mumbling to himself.

They didn't even realise that Serena had come into the room and was saying a bunch of things to them. What happened? How long has he been like this? Questions both of them had no answers to.

Serena forcibly pulled Nate away from the door then, yelling at him to get something. Blair wasn't sure what. They left her alone with Chuck, who didn't seem to even realise that she was there. She didn't know how long she stood there staring at him in shock before she ran to the kitchen to get some water. By then, she was shaking so hard she could barely get water into a bowl.

Serena wasn't shocked, however. She seemed prepared, seeing how calm and collected she was, calling 911 and some doctor on her cell phone. Hell, Blair had a strong feeling that she knew why Chuck was so sick. Another secret, S? She had to talk to that bitch right after this.

If there's an "after this". She couldn't, wouldn't, imagine Chuck...

Stop thinking, Waldorf.

Chuck coughed weakly, and reality immediately intruded. His cough ended in wheezing, laboured breaths that sharpened her anxiety. He tossed restlessly.

"Chuck … Chuck, it's me, Blair," she whispered as she stroked his forehead. His hair lay in limp, sweaty tangles around his face, and he was so white … as if the blood had leeched out of him.

Chuck didn't answer. He stopped moving, his breaths coming in short, quick pants.

How long has he been lying there, battling this fever? If not for Serena, who suddenly decided that she should check on Chuck, he probably would have lain there for hours more. What if Serena never made that choice? Would he have survived a few more hours? The thought made her shiver.

The respite was brief. Chuck began moving again, moaning in a weak, breathy voice.

He was in pain, she realised. She fought hard to push the panic away.

Oh God, what should she do?

Seeing him like this, so unlike himself, so sick, made all their quarrels, heart breaks, games … look so petty and insignificant. And at that moment, she was struck and consumed by the realisation that she couldn't lose him. He couldn't die, not like this, with her last words to him a promise to never see him again, because a part of her would die with him.

He suddenly went still, and Blair's heart nearly stopped. Then, Chuck took a shuddering breath and his eyes flickered open to narrow slits.

"Chuck?" she whispered hopefully.

– GG – GG – GG –

Consciousness came abruptly. One moment he was swimming in the murky, hot waters of delirium, and the next thing – he was cold, hot, aching all over and half blind. He struggled briefly to remember where he was and why he was this way, but memory eluded him and pain made his priorities simpler: To survive this hellish prison.

Where was he? It was dark, and he couldn't make out anything. Flashes of bright lights, and echoes of strange words buffeted his senses and he struggled to make sense of it all.

"Chuck?"

The voice startled him – he struggled mightily to see where it came from, but only saw a dark shadow next to him. The dark figure reached out for him and placed an icy-cold hand to his cheek. Alarmed, he shrank back.

"Stay away," he croaked.

It said something to him and leaned forward. And suddenly there was a burst of light, which pained his eyes, he turned away and hissed in pain.

"Sorry, sorry!" said a panicked voice. The light dimmed, and the shadow hovered over him. He stared at in panic … but the shadow was no longer a shadow … it was ….

Blair?

But Blair wasn't here. She left. And so he left for Prague. He wasn't going to come back, he was hell bent on making sure that it came true. She wasn't here. This was not Blair.

"Who are you?" Because this wasn't Blair.

Thirsty, he was so thirsty.

She frowned and placed icy hands on his cheeks. "It's me, Blair." She drew a shuddering breath. "I'm right here."

He shook his head. Whoever she was – it was – he was not going to stay around to find out. He pushed her hands away and tried to lift himself off the bed with arms shaking so badly that they threatened to buckle under him. He didn't get far – he heard her protest and push him down. He couldn't put much of a fight so found himself on his back again, staring at her dark, glittery eyes.

She looked like Blair. A lot like her. But thinking about Blair made him remember things that he didn't want to, and as he sank into memories and regrets, his resolve weakened and he sank back heavily into confusion again, shivering. She said something to him again. He couldn't understand what she was saying at all and wished she would stop.

God, he was thirsty. This place – it was hot, dry and empty and full of dark things. He wanted to return to the murky confusion he was in because that meant he could escape into nothingness again. It was preferable to this place.

As if it heard him, he could feel the darkness approaching again. He felt his body going numb … and he waited patiently for the darkness as it lapped up his wavering vision like –

"Water," he whispered without thinking. He imagined swimming in it – like that time when Serena broke into the school's swimming pool and made a party happen. Those were simpler times.

And then the darkness finally took him. And he was glad.

– GG – GG – GG –

Eight hours ago

Chuck drew the curtains wide open to stare at the traffic below. The trail of cars and people in front of The Plaza wobbled in his vision … and he felt his stomach roil. He gave up, withdrew from the window and sat heavily at the edge of his bed, staring at the suit draped over a chair.

Lily had breezed into his suite with it yesterday, hell bent on cheering him up with it. It was a Saville Row, of course, and Lily said that she had taken pains to ensure that it fit him perfectly – though how she did so without getting anyone to measure him was a mystery.

Then, Rufus showed up and all hell broke loose and he had to toss them both out because it was that or him throwing up right in front of them. This nagging cold was getting to him – or rather, his friends and family were finally getting to him.

Yesterday was D-Day for everyone to a) cheer him up or b) get angry with him over something. In the morning, Nate had stormed in, mad about what he did to Jenny; then came Eric, whom he thought was going to continue the Jenny tirade but instead just wanted to talk and cheer him up – and Chuck was so amused and touched by his efforts that he let him; then Lily with her suit, and finally Rufus who would've killed him if Lily hadn't stepped in.

Yesterday, the stars were just not aligned to his favour.

He looked down at his rumpled white shirt and slowly began unbuttoning it. God, it has gotten warm in this room.

Frankly, the thought of attending yet another formal event exhausted him. All that small talk, all that fawning he had to endure … Lily, like Serena, thought the solution to any problem was a well-hosted party. She had suggested gently to him that to ease him into the top position of Bass Industries – something she hoped he would ascend to on his 20th birthday – he should mingle as much as possible with the top people of the industry.

Ordinarily, this was exactly what he'd want and he would've embraced into it like an eager puppy. But after all that had happened, he wasn't sure why he did what he did anymore. And after having spent a month in a hospital in Prague thinking about fate, mortality and life, he wasn't particularly sure if or why he should be Bart Bass the second anymore.

So far, he had dutifully followed Lily's instructions because he didn't know what else to do. But today he decided that this gala was going to be his last. It didn't help that Blair was always at these things, and that made it infinitely worse. They tried to ignore each other, of course, but their presence hurt each other nevertheless. He wanted to stop doing that to her. And he wanted to stop hurting as well.

He stared at the suit again.

You just have to get up, put that bloody thing on, and get on with it already.

But his whole body was aching like an abused football.

"Chuck? The door's open. Can I come in?"

He groaned. What now?

His step-sister walked in carefully. She didn't used to do that – tip toe around him like he'd keel over in a dead faint if she, God forbid, surprised him. His welfare wasn't particularly high on her to-do list in the past. But since she found out about what really happened to him in Prague, she had become his persistent, motherly shadow – much to the delight of Gossip Girl and her readers, and much to the fury of Blair Waldorf.

It annoyed him in the beginning. But now, he was used to it. In fact, he actually looked forward to her presence … she was the only one he didn't have to hide the truth from, and he found it strangely reassuring and liberating. They could … talk. Really talk.

Serena stopped and stared. "Chuck, you look like hell," she said softly.

Usually he'd say something sarcastic or, at least, something slightly witty. But today, he settled for a shrug.

"I have a cold," he said simply.

"Chuck, shouldn't you call Dr Harding? Should you even be sick in your condition –"

"Serena, you're hovering again."

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, managing to look like her stern, aristocratic mother despite being in a clingy, cleavage-baring, too-short billowy yellow summer dress. His lips quirked up in amusement at his thoughts.

"Well, it comes with the package," she said. Her brows furrowed in irritation when she saw his smile.

"And what package might that be?"

"The 'I'm sick with worry over you' package, that's what!" she tossed her Hermes handbag carelessly on the floor and sat next to him on the bed. He felt the sudden urge to back away.

"Chuck, I'm not kidding when I said that you looked terrible. I don't think that this is just a cold."

She reached out and touched his forehead and he jerked away, embarrassed.

"You're burning up!" she cried out in alarm.

"Serena. It's just a cold. All I need to do is sleep it off and I'll be fine in time for the gala," he said.

"I don't believe that's – "

"I don't need you to believe anything," he snapped.

She went silent for a beat. Then: "You have to tell someone, Chuck. You can't keep this a secret forever. At least tell my Mom!"

He shook his head and averted his gaze from her piercing blue eyes. "We had this conversation before."

"And we're going to keep having it, because keeping this secret is obviously not working because people are starting to notice, Chuck."

"Notice what?"

She grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look at her.

"That you're not yourself! You've barely left your room, barely spoken to anyone and Mom's worried to death, and so is Eric and Nate, and Blair's been acting out. And keeping this from them is killing me! But secrets have a way of coming out – you know that better than anyone. And I don't know if it's going come out the way you want it to," she said.

"Are you threatening to tell, again?"

"No," she said quickly. "But what if Gossip Girl found out –"

"You give her too much credit, Sis."

He sighed and buried his face in his hands. He just wanted everyone to disappear and leave him alone. Returning to New York was a big mistake, he realised that now. He had the noble idea of making amends with those he had wronged but it was more difficult than he had anticipated, and his shaky health and keeping that a secret complicated things further.

He felt Serena place a hand on his shoulder. "Chuck?"

He looked up and felt faintly horrified that his eyes were brimming with tears.

"Chuck …" Serena whispered worriedly.

"I'm just … overwhelmed," he said softly.

It was the first time he'd come close to admitting how he truly felt, though the more accurate word would be "afraid". Chuck was afraid that his family and friends would leave him if they knew what he was capable of; he was ashamed about what he'd done; he was still haunted and shaken by the too-painful memory of a bullet ripping through his back and watching the blood leave him in a rush on the cobbled streets; he was anxious that his health wasn't returning and wondered if he'd ever recover it. But most of all, he had lost Blair, and he was terrified when he looked into the dark abyss of his future – a future without Blair.

He was scared. You're pathetic, said his father's voice.

She took his hand in hers and just quietly sat next to him as he gathered himself. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and reluctantly turned to her.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She just shook her head. "Don't be. Please. Let me help you. I hate seeing you like this," she pleaded in a small voice.

Once upon a time, Chuck Bass would've wondered if Serena van der Woodsen really meant those words. But after a month of sharing this burdensome secret with him, he no longer doubted her sincerity. He marvelled at her concern and wondered what he did to deserve it. Once, he even tried to chase her away with the truth. While she was furious and incensed about what he did to Blair, she was back at his doorstep two days later lecturing him about his pathetic attempt to chase her away. He thought he had her figured out, but Serena's inner depths were more mysterious than he'd anticipated.

He didn't know what to say, so he just kept silent.

Serena must have realised that he wasn't going to give her an answer any time soon, because she squeezed his hand and said quietly: "Don't come to the gala tonight. I'll tell Mom that you need to rest."

"I'll be there," he said, fixing her with a determined glare.

"Chuck – "

"Tomorrow. I will see Dr Harding tomorrow."

"With Mom, perhaps?"

She was, if anything, extremely persistent. He sighed. "Fine."

She beamed, and Chuck was a little taken aback by her happiness.

"We're going to help you through this, Chuck."

He just nodded, and wondered what he was going to be in for. Never mind his health. Lily and Serena was going to mother him to death. He smiled faintly at that.

She saw him smile, which seemed to amuse her. And they sat in companionable silence for a while.

All he needed was to sleep ... everything will be better when he finally woke up.

– GG – GG – GG –

After thoughts: Poor Chuck. He really does try, but things just don't go his way at all. (At least in my universe, heh.)

This fanfic came about as I thought, "What if Chuck didn't have anyone to 'rescue' him in Prague? What would he do?" And I thought that Chuck would probably try to hide his condition from his friends and family because he's not one to expose himself to the pity of others, and also because he'd want to keep Blair away.

(warning, spoiler!)

I know many hates the idea of this Eva person in his life in season 4, but I really think it is very necessary for him – during that period when he's so conflicted (and not to mention in pain after the gunshot wound) to have someone help him heal. And that's why I rather like the idea of Eva.

(end spoiler)

Okay, before you decide to scoop my heart out of my chest with a spoon, let me say that I really love the "sibling" relationship between Chuck and Serena, and have highlighted it a lot in this fanfic. I do hope that the show will highlight Chuck and Serena's unique relationship in season four. Cross fingers!