Chapter Two

Blair watched helplessly as his eyes slowly slid close. She bit her lip as she pressed the wet towel to Chuck's burning forehead and lay the back of a hand to his cheek. Was he hotter? It felt that way. She closed her eyes and swallowed the sobs that threatened to emerge. She felt so goddamned helpless.

The light from the bedside lamp made it impossible now to ignore how sick he was – the pale, sweat-slick skin, the dark circles beneath his eyes, or the fact that he was breathing way too fast. Blair Waldorf has not seen anyone have anything more serious than a cold – visiting the sick and dying were not part of her social climbing ambitions – and to see Chuck, who never even allowed a sniffle to make him look weak, like this ...

She suddenly blinked in realisation. Water. He was asking for water. He was thirsty – God, how could she be so stupid? God knew how long he had been lying there without a drink of water. People could die from thirst, couldn't they?

She ran to the kitchen and poured water into a glass with hands that could not stop shaking. But when she got to his bedside, holding the glass of water in her not-too-steady hands, she realised that she did not know whether she was strong enough to lift him.

"They're on their way!" Nate was suddenly in the room. His eyes were wild with fear, and his hair was disheveled, and somewhere along the way to where Serena took him, he had shucked off his coat and tie. But he no longer looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Nate! Help me with him!" she ordered in what she hoped was a steady voice as she placed the glass on the bedside table and struggled to lift Chuck up.

Nate looked almost relieved to have something to do. He quickly appeared at her side, sat on the edge of the bed, lifted Chuck and awkwardly cradled him in his arms.

Chuck moaned from the sudden movement and feebly tried to push him away. His eyes flickered open, and his fever-bright eyes rolled restlessly around.

"Hey, it's me, Nate. You're gonna be okay, buddy," Nate whispered, catching Chuck's flailing hand in his.

"Here. Come on, Chuck, drink this," Blair said breathlessly as she held the glass of water to his pale lips.

He coughed and turned away.

Blair pressed the glass to his lips again; Chuck tried to avoid it once more, but she tipped it carefully so that some water lapped on his lips. That seemed to work. Chuck took a sip, coughed, then drank. They watched in tense silence as he slowly drained the mug. When it was finally empty, he turned away and went limp in Nate's arms, breathing heavily.

Blair met Nate's fear-ridden eyes.

"God, he's burning up. I've never seen him this sick," he whispered, his voice shaking. "What's wrong with him?"

She shook her head. If only she knew.

"Where's Serena?" she managed to choke out.

"Waiting for the paramedics in the lobby," Nate said, his eyes still on Chuck, who has gone still in his arms; his eyes were now closed and his breathing seemed quieter. It appeared that he was finally asleep, and Nate was reluctant to lay him down, lest the movement jarred him awake again.

So they were like this for long, strained minutes. Nate holding Chuck, Blair stroking his sweaty hair and murmuring soothing words that he didn't hear. It was almost peaceful.

The false quiet was broken when they heard the lift doors open and footsteps running towards them. Blair was halfway to the door when Serena ran through it with two paramedics right behind her.

"Ma'am, how long has he been like this?" one of them demanded.

Blair wasn't sure if he meant for Serena or her to answer, but she answered anyway.

"We found him like this about half an hour ago. But we don't know how long he's been … like this," she said, her voice shaking so bad she could barely keep from stuttering.

Nate reluctantly relinquished his hold on Chuck and stood up stiffly as the paramedics lay him flat on the bed. Their movements were quick and sure – one listened to his chest with a stethoscope, while another was taking his pulse.

They rattled off medical jargon to each other which jumbled into meaningless goobledygook in Blair's head. She hastily wiped away the tears that clouded her vision.

One of the questions made sense, however.

"Ma'am, can you tell me his medical history? Any history of illnesses? Previous injuries?"

It was then that she saw the look on Serena's face. And that's Look with a capital L; the kind of look that meant that she had been hiding something and she's just been found out. Blair's face hardened as Serena avoided her gaze.

"He ..." she swallowed nervously. "Four months ago … he was shot in a mugging."

Nate froze and stared at Serena. "What?" he cried out in disbelief.

Shot? That's ridiculous. That stuff only happens in the movies, Blair wanted to say. But she found herself without breath to utter a single word.

"Do you know where he was shot?" the paramedic demanded.

Serena nodded hastily. "He was shot in the back – it wasn't a through and through and the bullet lodged in his liver, but they took it out. That's all I know. That's all he told me," she looked at Blair, then quickly averted her eyes.

He told Serena. But he didn't say a word to her.

Eventhough it made sense why this was so – she had made it clear that she didn't want to have anything to do with him – it still hurt her that Chuck kept this from her. Look at what he made her do. Blair had treated him like a cockroach for months, and all this while he had been … what, sick? Injured? How could he hide this from them? How could Serena?

She could see the play of emotions on Nate's face as well. Shock, dismay, guilt and then anger.

"You kept this from us," he said in a low voice.

"He didn't want me to tell anyone. And … this isn't the time for this," Serena said softly and turned her gaze to Chuck.

Chuck didn't stir as the paramedics moved him to a stretcher, placed an oxygen mask on his face and covered him with a blanket.

They trailed behind the paramedics wordlessly, their eyes on Chuck, who, if it was possible, had grown paler. The journey down was a blur; Blair didn't notice the sizeable crowd at the lobby that stared and muttered among themselves, or how they got to be in front of the ambulance. She watched, numb, as they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance.

They only had room for one more in the ambulance, and Nate volunteered to go. In just minutes, it was only Serena and Blair on the curb, staring at the receding, blinking red lights.

"How could you?" Blair found herself saying. "You knew all this while? And you didn't say anything?"

"Blair. You don't know how many times I wanted to tell you. But Chuck … he threatened to leave New York if I ever did, and all I wanted for him was for him to get better. So, I thought..." she trailed off.

"But he didn't get better. He got worse!" Blair cried out shrilly. She knew she wasn't making any sense at all.

Something akin to a storm raged in Serena's eyes at her words. "And suddenly, you care? You weren't exactly showing an interest in his life, Blair!" she yelled.

Tears welled up in Serena's eyes and fell, spilling a trail of mascara down her cheeks. And Blair realised that she was crying too. They had a staring match for a few minutes, and then Blair nodded slowly.

"I did. I did say I never wanted to see him again. That I wanted him out of my life," she closed her eyes and let out a bitter laugh. "And I guess my wish came true."

"Shut up!" Serena snapped. Then, impulsively, she wrapped her arms around Blair, hugging her so tightly that Blair felt her breath being squeezed out. She tightened her grip around her as well, sobbing quietly.

"I should've told you. I'm so sorry. I was going to today, but … he's going to be fine, you know that right, Blair?" Serena stroked her hair.

"He better be, S. Because … I'm so mad at him right now," she whispered weakly.

Reluctantly, they parted, because they now had to get a town car to get to the hospital.