AN: I thought that this would be a nice day to try and get back in the swing of things. And Merry Christmas to everyone!

Summary: "I've been acting like I'm okay, but I'm not. They say it's a broken heart, but I hurt in my whole body. What if I stay like this forever? What if I never get over Chuck?"

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Quotes and characters belong to GG.

Name

Did I hear you say Chuck? Blair will not even mention his name. She never even told me why they broke up.

The day Dorota brought Anastasia home, Blair was confined to her bed. Though she had promised she would make it back to the hospital—and despite the fact that she actually did—she never made it to see Dorota's new daughter.

"Dorota said you were going to meet Chuck."

Eleanor looked over at her daughter's form beneath her covers. She was sure she had been over this. But again, something had resorted Blair into the headcase she had been weeks before.

"I didn't realize you were back together."

"We're not together anymore."

It was the first thing her daughter had said in a week.

"Blair," Eleanor said softly. "I am—"

"Concerned?"

She knew this little girl—her little girl laying her head in her lap begging for a semester in France. And suddenly she was beginning to understand. She understood the tears and the transformation she had seen in Blair for the past three years.

This girl was in love. And had been for a very long time.

And this girl's heart was broken.

"Maybe if you—"

Blair was sitting up suddenly, but her eyes wouldn't meet her mother's.

"I already spoke to Daddy," Blair answered. "I'm spending the summer there."

And just like that she was gone. Gone was the ecstatic girl from the year before just as he was gone—the person that made her daughter a vibrant and radiant young woman.

Her suggestions were going unnoticed just as they always did. Though she was sure her daughter would bounce back from this as she always did. But reports from her ex-husband proved the opposite and even though Blair's better half and best friend accompanied her everywhere, it didn't stop the uncertainty.

Though Blair could put on a good front for almost anyone, it didn't include her mother. She was the woman that had taught her everything and even though she had only communicated with her by phone for the entire summer, she could still tell.

All she heard were the words of a shopping and cultured vacation, but she still new better. She heard Lily raving about all the young men her daughter was meeting.

And also how her adoptive son was still missing in action.

"Lily was saying how Charles—"

"Mother, I have to go."

"What is so pressing that you have to ignore your mother's calls?"

"I hate to break it to you, but some things are more important than your weekly update of socialite scandal."

"That wasn't what I was going to say."

"Well, I have to go anyway—"

"Blair," Eleanor said. "Charles has been missing for three months."

"Well I hope he's having fun."

"You know where he is?"

"Of course not."

"Do you miss him?"

"Mother!"

"It's just a question."

"And that's my answer."

"That's not an answer."

"Why does it matter?" her daughter burst out. "You never liked him to begin with."

"Of course I do."

"Did," Blair corrected. "And it doesn't matter. He's done. I'm done. It's over."

"But why—"

"I really have to go now."

"I'm sure Chuck misses you."

"He-", Eleanor heard her daughter stutter on the end of the line. "He doesn't. He doesn't anything. He doesn't exist."

He might as well not have.

Blair was always running the reel of the movie inside her head. She had just decided that Chuck Bass' scenes were cut. She had no use for him any longer.

As his name was erased from her memory, so was he.

And Eleanor knew that so was her daughter.

Broken

I've been acting like I'm okay, but I'm not. They say it's a broken heart, but I hurt in my whole body. What if I stay like this forever? What if I never get over Chuck?

It wasn't the first time. In fact, it wasn't even the worst time. But it was the last time. And that's what broke her.

His eyes kept flashing before her in her dreams—sad, helpless, and regretful.

But none of it mattered.

In fact, she should have been expecting it. He had done this before. He had sabotaged and ripped her apart more times than she could ever count. But this was it. He hadn't made a deal behind her back, he hadn't refused to tell her the one thing that she needed to hear, and he hadn't abandoned her with only a three-lined note to replace him.

It wasn't the worst. But it was the last.

That was what hurt so much.

The image of him intertwined with some peroxide poisoned gothic princess was what ended it for her. It wasn't what he did. It was the fact that he did anything at all.

He had done it again. And as he fell to the floor, the thought of what he was holding vanished from her mind. All she saw was him in a heap, the remains of another girl's virginity tarnished all around them, and she felt the unrestrained tears corrupting her eyes.

In that moment, she knew it was the end. It had to be. She couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't hurt her forever.

But it didn't stop. She kept seeing him. He was in the fireworks behind her eyes. He was always with her.

"Do you miss me?"

She never called him. Never contacted him. She didn't know where he was, but somehow, he was always there.

"I miss you."

She tried to shut out his voice, but his eyes were filled with such pain, she felt it seep into her gut. She never said anything, but his voice always filled her head in the darkness.

She looked at Monet and finally felt as though she could be happy, but even the sight of fountains and Baccarat made her heart hurt for him.

They still hurt together.

"I hurt for you."

Only in the night could she admit it. And now it took her so long to even say it out loud. Blue eyes looked at her with sorrow, but it just made her crumble even more.

"Don't you miss me too?"

Only in the night could she admit she was broken. And as much as she wanted to move on and become a princess, if being without the hurt meant being without him forever, she wasn't sure if she could make that choice.

Dream

You had the dream again. I hoped it wouldn't follow us from Prague.

I guess I'll have to give it more time.

When he first opened his eyes, he thought he was dead. Unfamiliar blue eyes met his and he was sure this was after the end.

But he felt the stabbing pain in his side that he thought was just a dream and suddenly everything came flooding back—the strong scent of Vodka stinging his nose, his immobility, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings.

He knew life, and this was definitely it—hard, painful, and never ending.

Even as a bullet had burrowed its way into him, his heart kept on beating. He still kept on breathing. The memories of every single thing he had ever done still kept whirling around in his brain.

This was no dream.

And her.

The ethereal blonde with her thick accent and had a strange affinity for saving her life.

"What's your name?"

"Henry. Henry Prince."

And suddenly he was. Now everything seemed so clear. This was an opportunity. He could be someone else, make amends. And it was easy.

He was this person. He could be a good boyfriend and a good person. She would smile at him and not ask him about what exactly he was doing in that particular red light district of Prague.

For the first time, someone trusted him.

And he had earned that trust.

Finally, everyone was all right.

But then the night came. It was the only time he hated being alone. Because no matter how caring and loving she was and no matter how comforting she was when she slept next to him, it didn't stop the nightmares.

Life was hard.

This was harder.

He never expected to be rid of his demons so easily. But whenever he closed his eyes, her dark ones still stared back at him, heartbroken, more times than he could count.

Her slap still hit him just as hard. Her tears were just as fresh. And just like he was experiencing it again, he couldn't help but feel as though that bullet was something he had earned.

He choked on his own breath as he sat up abruptly in bed. He didn't say her name out loud this time, like he had for the past few nights.

Eva was still slumbering peacefully.

And he hated himself. He didn't deserve a beautiful French girl that saved his life. He should have died on that street. He should have died thinking of dark eyes and betrayal.

He just made it to the bathroom.

His wound had been making him sick, but that was half way to healed. Now all he could do was keep his hyperventilation to a minimum as he locked the door behind him.

"I'm sorry."

He couldn't remember how many times he had whispered this to himself. But it was always behind the bathroom door and always as quietly as he could. This wasn't something that the good Henry Prince would do. This was Chuck Bass.

And Chuck Bass was dead.

"I'm so sorry."

She couldn't hear him. But it was better this way. It was better for everyone. Chuck Bass was dead and he was going to stay that way. She would never see him again. She would never be submitted to his destructive nature. Finally she could be free without him.

"Henry?"

"Blair?"

The door opened and he felt a slight shock.

Eva.

He took a deep breath. It was just instinct.

"What did you just say?" Eva asked.

"Nothing," Chuck said. "It was nothing."

"What did you dream about?"

"What?" Chuck asked. He always felt this confusion. He cursed himself for saying the name he swore to himself he would never say again. It had just been instinct, but he was done with that. He was just a little confused was all.

But he promised himself that he would never be confused again.

"I know you've been having nightmares every night."

"I didn't mean to wake you," Chuck said, limping lightly out of the bathroom.

"Tell me," Eva said.

"It's just about that night," Chuck said. "It'll pass."

Eva smiled sweetly at him.

It had to pass.

It just had to.