A/N: HELLO LOVELY READERS! It's 1 in the morning right now and I didn't proofread, but it's okay, because this is the longest chapter yet for FOWB, so yay! There are lots of twists and Young and Careless, I'm sorry to inform you that Russell does not get run over by a bus. But I haven't ruled it out for another time!
Extra love to: Young and Careless, nics (Not so much NS in this, but I'll have more of them in the next one), Grace (Omg I love Batman but this dilemma doesn't end in the same direction at all...), RauhlPrincess (I love when you say that, haha! And I'm seeing her too - Sept. 21st!), kauraREX (Do you really think I would do that? ;), livelovelaugh9704 (I hope you like the twists and they're surprising!), miracle-dreamer1234 (Omg is what I was going for ;), anabelle12 (Haha, you might have to do that again! This one is pretty crazy too!), merriment (I'm keeping up the intensity, haha!)
I really hope you guys like this one, because I think some parts will shock you... just a little bit. ;)
Chapter 22: The Healing
Calm down, let the world spin round
There ain't no other place to be
Take this lifeline
Skin tears
But the flesh will weave
Back together again
Only scars now
-"The Healing" Bloc Party
Nate hadn't seen it coming. He was leaving Serena's and walking down the street as if he didn't have a care in the world, which was both precise and accurate. He and Serena had spent an incredible night together, and he was feeling happier than he had in months. The sun always shone a little brighter when he and Serena were together, and today was no exception. There was a little bounce to his step, and he bobbed his head to the sounds created by a group of young men banging out various rhythms on buckets and trashcans. Nate tossed a few spare bills in the designated trashcan lid for contributions then continued to the next block, only pausing when he heard the sound of a woman scream. Turning around, he focused on the origin of the high-pitched shriek and began to sprint toward an alley that revealed a woman cowering against a brick wall while two large men, both foreign-looking and blond, were holding a knife and trying to pry a purse from her wrinkled hands.
"No, please!" she was whimpering, clutching her leather pocketbook with all her strength, the strain evident in her throbbing temples and white fingers. "You can't!"
"I think we can," said the taller of the two men, caressing the knife he held in his hand and sneering scathingly at the woman. His accent sounded Russian to Nate, but he couldn't be sure.
"Please, the money for my granddaughter's college fund is in this bag!"
"How touching," the other man said sarcastically, his accent much less defined than his partner's. "Vojtěch , I know you like to play with your prey, but we've got a lot to do today."
"Understood," Vojtěch answered. "Now, lady, we can do this easy way," he gestured to her purse. "Or hard way." He twisted the knife in his hands before gently placing the point over her heart.
"How about no way?" Nate stepped forward and crossed his arms together. He took out his phone. "I'm sure the police would be happy to pick up two more goons today." Vojtech laughed, but the stouter, more muscular blond stayed quiet. "I mean it," Nate warned, dialing numbers into his phone.
"Okay, then, hlupák," Vojtěch replied, narrowing his amused eyes. "Run along, babička, and keep purse close." He chuckled at his own joke as the woman thanked Nate profusely before scampering off.
"What did you just call me?" Nate fumed in spite of himself. He found it obnoxious enough when people used English words he couldn't understand, but for them to be in another language entirely was just too much.
"He says you are a fool, Mr. Archibald," the shorter one spoke, a grim look on his face.
"A fool - wait how do you know my name?" The next second was a flash of motion as Nate felt Vojtěch pin his arms behind his back, forcing Nate to drop his cell, and the other man press a piece of cloth to his face.
"In Czech Republic, we say you a padavka," Vojtěch commented, the alcohol on his breath mixing with the sugary smell of the cloth. "My father, he always say to me, Vojtěch, let no one ever call you a padavka. A real man never lose a fight, even if he no know he a competitor."
"Enough," his cohort said. "Just shut up. He knows too much already." Nate had barely heard the words anyway. He was suddenly feeling queasy, and his mind was getting fuzzy. He felt overcome with a desire to shut his eyes, and he knew what was going on; it was whatever was on the cloth that was making him feel this way. The world was going to black, and while he didn't know what these thugs were going to do to him, he sent out a desperate plea to whoever might hear it. Please, he prayed. Don't let today go down as the last time I ever saw Serena.
…
Blair had been in the elevator on her way to lunch when they took her. She knew something was off as soon as it stopped; living in the penthouse of her building had its perks, and a private elevator was one of them, so its progress being halted meant something was clearly amiss. At first she presumed it was mechanical issues, but when two staid-faced, blond men entered the suddenly cramped confinements of the elevator, she felt her heart quicken, and her mind discounted the possibility of technical difficulties. Before she could scream, they covered her nose and mouth with a damp cloth that she soon realized was coated in a colorless liquid, and it was making her mind hazy. Her eyes began to flutter, and her body was teetering off balance. The pair each took an elbow in their enormous arms to steady her while keeping the white cotton stuffed steadfastly to her nostrils and mouth. Chloroform, she thought, the sweet scent vaguely familiar from a high school chemistry experiment. CHCl3. Formerly utilized as an anesthetic especially during the 1800s, it was used on Queen Victoria during the birth of her last two children. Blair became aware of the pathetic nature of the thoughts that could be her last. She could be killed, and she was thinking about science definitions? Spots were coming in and out of her line of vision, and she figured she may as well make her final coherent thought count. Chuck, I love you.
…
Chuck didn't know whether it was a heavenly blessing or an unbearable burden that he was wearing a wristwatch. Sometimes he would be grateful for the little face of the clock, holding on to the seconds like a lifeline, the steady ticking keeping him sane, but then the minute hand would be the one to move, and he would feel his chest tighten in a fear unlike anything he had ever experienced. The first hour, all he had managed to do was lie curled up into the fetal position, ball his eyes out, and occasionally peek at his watch, a vision that Blair no doubt would have laughed hysterically at if it weren't so tragic. But she wasn't there to laugh, and that was what forced Chuck to sit up and attempt to think logically about the situation. Determined that succumbing to Russell's ultimatum was not an option, Chuck understood that the only possible way to save Blair and Nate would be escaping the building. He scanned the office, because while it was dark, there was still a fraction of light coming from the two small windows that Chuck now knew were too tight to climb out of. The building was too high regardless. The email made available to him from the laptop had seemed like a viable opportunity; that is until he checked the Internet connection and found it password protected. He sighed and kept up his search, pulling out drawers until he bumped into a low table against the right wall. A small, black printer was placed on top of it, its buttons glowing in the darkness of the room. He picked the laptop back up and noticed a small printer button in the corner of the screen. The plan came together immediately.
Fifteen minutes later, Chuck held a hundred sheets of paper in his hands. "CHUCK BASS TRAPPED IN THORPE BUILDING ON 49TH FLOOR," they read. "REWARD OF TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS TO RESCUER." Chuck unwound the locks on the windows and released the fluttering white sheets onto the busy streets below hoping the combined incentives of fame and money would be enough to bring him freedom. Who was he kidding? This was New York. Those were the reasons people came to New York in the first place.
He didn't have to wait long. He heard the shouting outside the office and pressed his ear to the door to try to discern what was being said. Preparing to make a quick exit, he grabbed the disc of the surveillance video and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
"You can't go in there!" Thorpe's secretary was screeching angrily.
"Too bad!" a woman's voice answered. He heard a crash followed by the lock clicking open. When the door opened, he spied the secretary in a heap of papers, knick-knacks, and office supplies on the floor, and a young blond stood in front of him, hands on her hips. "So when do I get my money?" she asked with a purse of her lips.
"Who are you?" Chuck responded hurriedly. He needed to get her name and then get out of there.
"Charlie," she answered. "Charlie Rhodes."
…
Blair was tied to a wooden chair in the middle of what appeared to be an apartment or hotel room. She couldn't tell. It seemed like she was alone, but again, she was uncertain. The ropes that bound her restricted the movement of her head, and all she could see was the span of a single wall and the shadows of the chair and other furniture behind her. I'm like the slave from Book VII that left the Cave, saw the wonders of the sun, and then returned to the darkness, she imagined, assuming that an academic train of thought would be most successful in keeping her calm. Going back to uncertain truth, a blindness in itself, tied up with only shadows to see. Will I ever know reality again? She shuddered as a chill ran through her body. Perhaps academics weren't as safe as she thought.
"Blair?" she knew that voice, but all she could see was a shadow of the figure of a man. She didn't trust it to be real yet. The gag in her mouth kept her from speaking, but she tried to make noise, hoping to draw him to her side. Her muffles must have been somewhat effective, because he was suddenly close to her, untying the knots and taking out her gag. "Are you all right? Tell me how you're feeling," he whispered, his eyes wide.
"Can we please go first?" she asked, wanting to escape this place, wherever and whatever it was.
"Of course." He picked her up and carried her, and she didn't have the strength or desire to protest. "I hope you're not mad at me," he said quietly.
"Mad?" she balked. "You just saved my life! How could I ever be mad?"
"You haven't asked me how I knew where to find you," he pointed out.
"Okay, how did you find me?"
"Let's wait until I know you're safe," he answered, carefully setting her down on the soft seat of the car.
"I'm safe with you," she said.
"I'm glad you think so," he said, smiling. "You're really strong, did you know that?"
"Yes," she replied simply with a nod. "And you're my hero."
"I don't know about that."
"Yes you are, Louis. And I'll owe you the rest of my life."
…
Chuck managed to get out of the Thorpe building, the Charlie person seemingly satisfied by the business card he gave her and assurances that he would contact her soon. The first thing he did was call Nate and Blair, but he was unsurprised that neither answered. He would have gone back to The Empire or The Palace, but he figured they would be the first places Thorpe would check. There was also Victrola, but his love of the place wasn't exactly uncommon knowledge. And Blair and Serena's… Serena. He had to make sure she, Lily, and Eric were safe. She picked up after the second ring.
"Serena?" he asked, breathless.
"Yeah?" she answered. "Why do you sound so weird?"
"I - I'm fine," Chuck lied, caught off guard by a perceptiveness that was rare in his sister. "Just do me a favor and go to The Palace."
"What? Why?" she asked, confused by his request.
"Serena, I really can't tell you at the moment, but believe me when I say I need you to go and stay with your mom and Eric. Don't leave the penthouse or open the door for anyone, got it? And block access to the elevator after you get there."
"Oh my God, Chuck, what is it? You're really scaring me."
"Just, please," he said, his voice low and dangerously close to a sob.
"O - Okay," she agreed, the pain coming across the line. "I'm leaving now."
"Good," he sighed. "I'll call later."
"Or sooner, if you need me," she added before hanging up.
Chuck turned his thoughts back to Blair and Nate and the disaster he had dragged them into. If things went horribly awry, Russell had been right about one thing - it would be his fault. The problem was, he had only a few ideas of where they could be, and since he knew about them, Russell would never risk putting Blair or Nate there. On the other hand, Russell had thought Chuck would be stuck in his office for the duration of the day, unable to breathe outside air, let alone rescue anyone. Making a decision, Chuck headed for the site of his new hotel project. If Russell really wanted to destroy Chuck's past, present, and future, that would be one of the best places to do it, and with all of the construction that had been taking place, a fire could easily be blamed on faulty wiring or some other excuse. Then it would be Chuck's seemingly deranged words against Russell's, and Thorpe had a reputation as a respectable, truthful businessman.
On the ride, Chuck took out the disc and slid it into the computer he had picked up before calling Arthur. There was more to this, and he knew it. It was why he'd used a favor from a computer whiz whose software company Chuck had paid to launch. In the seat beside him, the man adjusted his thick glasses and began working, pulling up garbled codes that Chuck couldn't begin to comprehend. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably closer to ten minutes, the man grinned in satisfaction.
"Not the challenge I was hoping for," he said, "but it would have taken you ages."
"Thanks a lot, Richie," Chuck answered. Arthur pulled over, and Richie stepped out of the limo to catch a cab home. They were about a third of the way to the hotel, and Chuck didn't want company, not now, and not when he reached it. When he pressed play, the scene was different than the one he had seen previously. His father was still with Raina's mother, but Bart appeared to be pleading with her, not arguing. He hugged her and kissed her, but she kept shaking her head. She then said something that caused him to get angry, and that was when the video Chuck recognized appeared. He waited, saw his father rush away like before, but this time, the street didn't stay clear before the building went up in smoke. A man in dark clothing was running from the building, a container of accelerant in his arms. He kept his face turned from the camera until the last few moments he was in view, and Chuck would have recognized him anywhere. Bart wasn't responsible for anything.
Russell Thorpe had murdered his own wife.
…
"Are you ready to tell me now?" asked Blair from the couch in Louis' hotel room as Louis sat beside her and handed her a drink.
"I suppose so," he said. "You might think I'm a little crazy though."
"Never," she said confidently.
"When you did not show for lunch, I was concerned," he explained. "You are always early and text or call to make sure the plans are still intact. So when you were not there and did not answer your phone, I knew something bad happened."
"Makes sense," said Blair with a thoughtful look. "Go on."
"So I went to your building and they said they had not seen you all day. I went to your room and you were not there, but I then noticed something on the elevator on the way down. There was a strange white rag left, along with one of your headbands." Blair touched her hair, just noticing it was missing. "I looked at the security tapes after bribing one of the guards, and I saw those two horrible men attack you and drag you into an emergency stairwell. Following those tapes, I saw as they took you out the exit in a laundry basket and loaded you into a truck."
"My God," breathed Blair, not remembering a thing Louis was describing.
"After that, I had to go through traffic cameras at the police station, under false pretenses, of course. I came as soon as I could."
"Oh Louis," she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you."
"Do not thank me," he said. "It was partly selfish. I do not wish to live without you Blair. I am afraid I cannot."
"That's very sweet."
"It is true. Blair, I am in love with you."
…
"He did what?" Russell growled.
Chuck stayed back, hiding behind an unfinished wall. He didn't know which room Nate or Blair was in, and he figured Russell could unknowingly lead him there. "That wasn't in the plan! First Bass escapes and now this!"
Chuck's ears perked up. Something else had happened?
"I thought I could trust him to keep her where she was supposed to be, but then she's rescued instead? Damn him."
He could hear Russell pacing back and forth and shooting out puffs of air, but his footsteps took a turn toward one of the rooms and he threw open the door.
"I'll just have to guard the other one myself. I'm sure we'll be getting a visitor eventually, and he won't know that the girl is safe."
Chuck nearly fainted with an overwhelming sense of joy in that moment. Blair was safe, Blair was safe, Blair was safe… It would have been too good to be true had it not come from Russell's mouth.
"You're this close to losing your job. I already fired that idiot excuse for a secretary, and I won't hesitate to kick your ass to the curb too."
Chuck followed Russell's steps and slipped in the room behind him, placing a brick in the doorway so they didn't get stuck. He saw Nate's backside and nearly gave away his position in order to get to him. His friend was roped to a column.
"Hope you enjoy your next few hours, Archibald, because they're all you have. Your little friend, Waldorf, got herself saved by a prince, so you're the only sacrificial lamb left." Thorpe laughed mirthlessly. "And you know what the funny part is?" he asked, looking less than amused. "It was my own damn man that rescued her. That's right, that Louis of Monaco was the one who supplied me with the Czechs and the girl's location, said all he wanted in return was a billion dollars. The royal family's pretty deep in debt, and they needed money fast." Russell pounded his fist against the column. "But it turns out it was a ruse the whole time. He wanted her for himself and figured he could play the heroic Prince Charming he's not. Well, at least I have you to fall back on, isn't that right?"
"Not exactly," Chuck announced, making his presence known. "Stand back, Thorpe."
"Or what? You'll strangle me with your scarf?"
Nate couldn't make a sound, but if he could, Chuck knew he'd be laughing, despite their circumstances.
"I've actually been asked that before, and I'm thinking it may be time to test it."
"Whatever," Russell scoffed. "You play with silk, but I play with fire." He held up a match. "This will make this place go up in flames."
"You'll die too," Chuck said, unknotting Nate's binds as he spoke. Nate said a quick thank you when he finished.
"Does it matter?" asked Russell, stretching out his arms. "What do I have? Your father took away my wife."
"No, you did," said Chuck. "And the police will know about it if I don't come out of this building in twenty minutes. My driver has the DVD and instructions." Russell's face morphed into one of shock. "I had a friend decode it, and you were the one to light the building. Don't try to deny it, but I have to know. Why did you do it?"
"Be - because," sputtered Russell. "She was still in love with him! She didn't want me; she wanted him! The reason they were fighting was because she wanted to take Raina and run away, and Bart wanted to make it legal so they wouldn't get in trouble." Russell shook with rage at the memory. "She loved him, and she was going to leave."
"So you didn't let her."
"How could I? I loved her and she was going to go away and take our daughter with her."
"If you really loved her, you would have put her happiness above yours," said Chuck.
"Don't tell me I didn't love Avery!" Russell bellowed. "And I hate that Raina doesn't have her mother."
"She won't have her father, either, unless you put down the matches and come with us," responded Chuck calmly.
"You'll let me go?" Russell wondered skeptically.
"Back to Chicago where you came from, so long as you never return to this island under any circumstances."
"And - and Raina?"
"We won't tell her," said Chuck. "But I think you should. After all, I'm of the opinion she should know who Russell Thorpe really is," he sneered, using Thorpe's own words to spite him.
"Fine." Russell let the unlit matches drop. "I'll go quietly."
…
Chuck stayed true to his word, but Nate hadn't been so easily convinced. He called the police as soon as he returned, and while he was at the station, Chuck went to find Blair, telling the police he would gladly share his side of the story after dealing with a personal issue. Blair was probably still with the prince, and now Chuck knew that his initial instincts had been right. He hadn't taken Louis for a lunatic, but he disliked him from the start. He recalled Blair mentioning that he was staying at The Plaza, and he headed there, hoping she was safe. He ran onto the elevator, ignoring the stares he attracted, and punched the button for the top floor. He swiped a key from the cart of a maid and entered the room as quietly as possible.
"It is true. Blair, I am in love with you," Louis was saying.
"Louis, I - I don't know what to think," Blair replied hesitantly. "How can you know that? We've only known each other a couple months."
"I just know," he said confidently. "You are my soul mate, Blair. And there is something I must ask you. Will you - "
"Blair!" Chuck ran in, ignored the appalled look on a kneeling Louis' face, and practically threw himself on Blair.
"Chuck!" She squeezed him back, her eyes filling with tears. How had she not thought to call him? He needed to know what happened.
"Excuse me," interjected Louis. "But I must ask that you let me finish my conversation with Blair."
"Louis, it's fine. I need to tell Chuck everything, and we can talk later."
"No, Blair, I really feel - "
"Louis," she said again, a note of definitiveness in her tone. "I need to speak with Chuck right now."
"Blair, I want you to marry me!" yelled Louis, patience evaporating.
"Wha - what?" Blair wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.
"Are you insane?" Chuck all but screamed before Louis answered her question. "You're a psycho who deserves to be in a jail cell, not on a throne, and definitely not with Blair by your side!"
"I don't know what you are talking about," scoffed Louis. "And it is not your place to answer."
"What are you talking about, Chuck?" asked Blair. "Louis saved my life today."
"No, that's what he wants you to think. He was one of the orchestrators of it!"
"You know what happened to me?"
"Yes," answered Chuck, "considering it was Russell Thorpe's idea. He wanted to get back at Bart for stealing his wife and building a better company, but since he couldn't do that, I was his second choice. He was using you to get to me."
"Are you okay?" she asked, inspecting him anxiously. "Did he hurt you?"
"I'm fine," he promised. "But you're not going to be when I'm done with you," he growled, turning his gaze to the retreating prince. "You're not going anywhere."
Go easy, just be
As life gets longer
Got all the time you need
Stay with me my dear
As life gets harder
Whatever strikes, you'll heal
You will heal
Until next time - xoxo