A/N: I really don't know how this got to over 6,500 words, but it somehow did. Also, I lied to you, you lovely readers, in one of my author's notes from a previous chapter, and whoever figures out what I lied about gets an extra apology! (Maybe even in poetry?) I hope you will trust me with this and with every other crazy thing I have written in this chapter, because there are a lot of twists and insanities going on here.

Here's to: merriment (hopefully this chapter will keep you on your toes!), anabelle12 (yay for fangirl squeals! your reviews are amazing ;), kauraREX (haha, your review was hilarious! the third person at the end was especially great...I've definitely had my share of crazy sleep deprivation :), RauhlPrincess (she didn't play that at mine either, but she made up for it with all of her amazingness!) Kathrynm37 (thank you so much! hope you keep enjoying the story!), and finally, livelovelaugh9704 (don't worry, we all know I have a twist planned for that ;)

I appreciate you all so much for reviewing! Not only do you read my wacky story, but you also take the extra time to write me with your thoughts about it! Thank you.

And without further ado, here is Chapter 25 (holy crap, have I really written that many?) - one that's full of surprises, the resurrection of familiar characters, and a whole lot of drama. XOXO

Chapter 25: Haunted

Don't cry
There's always a way
Here in November in this house of leaves
We'll pray
Please, I know it's hard to believe
To see a perfect forest
Through so many splintered trees
You and me
And these shadows keep on changing

-"Haunted" Poe

Mike refused the job. Chuck couldn't comprehend why; the starting price had been double Mike's usual rate, and he'd eventually offered to quadruple it, yet Mike was being infuriatingly obstinate, even going so far as to insist that Chuck drop the investigation into Russell's breakout completely. Chuck briefly considered hiring a different PI, but it didn't feel right, so instead he decided to look into the matter himself.

Many men of the law pledged to follow it, swearing to all that they would forever be upheld by morals, but Chuck knew better than to believe this ethical façade. Often, the ones who appeared to have the cleanest hands only did so because of the many times they had washed them of their grime. Their grubby fingers craved money and reached out to it, quivering at the possibility of the green paper being slipped between them, and if money didn't persuade them, there was something money could buy that did. Today, Chuck planned on Detective Thomas Crowley, a recent addition to the team from Kentucky, providing to him what he needed.

"Mr. Bass? Tom Crowley," said the detective, shaking Chuck's hand. "We was expectin' you. But I got to ask, to what do us at the precinct owe this mighty fine pleasure?"

"I'm simply interested in learning of the circumstances by which Russell Thorpe escaped prison," answered Chuck, his hands deep in the pockets of his wool overcoat. The wind was howling this morning, and he'd forgotten his scarf in his haste. The small piece of fabric clearly made a large impact, as Chuck was still warming himself after his brief walk to the police department.

"I see," said Tom Crowley, slightly frowning. "To be honest with ya, Mr. Bass, I'm not sure what I'm allowed to tell. The public ain't s'posed to know nothin' that ain't in the papers." The southern accent might have been endearing if his words had been different. Luckily, Chuck had incentives, and he was willing to place them on the table one by one until Crowley relented.

"Mr. Crowley –"

"Tom," he corrected. "And a man like me don't need the title mister."

"Tom," Chuck amended, his voice smooth and silky and his eyes appealingly genuine. "What can I do to make you change your mind?"

"Shucks, Mr. Bass, you ain't trying to bribe me, are ya?" Tom furrowed his blond brows and tried to look indignant, but after checking the room, he leaned in closer to Chuck and spoke in a whisper. "'Cuz if you was, I'd say I'd like some tickets to the Daytona 500 this year."

"Consider it done," Chuck said, trying to restrain his laughter at the grim nature in which the man had delivered his request.

"Well then, how's about you and me enter the private room and have a little chat?" Tom pointed in the direction of the interrogation room. "That's the only one without mikes," he added.

"Lead the way." Chuck followed as Tom took quick strides toward the room, pausing only to grab a couple of doughnuts and a cup of coffee.

"I eat one of these babies every day, but I somehow stay as skinny as a green bean." Tom chuckled and dug into his chocolate doughnut, handing the other to Chuck. "They's the best," he promised between mouthfuls. Chuck reluctantly ate a bite of the sugary breakfast treat and took the opportunity to pursue the issue at hand.

"Tom, what do you know about Russell's escape? Who was behind it? How did he manage to pass by the guards? Where did he get the clothes?"

"Woah there, Mr. Bass." Tom wiped the crumbs off of his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "I can only answer one at a time."

"Okay," Chuck began again. "Let's start with you telling me everything you know. Then I'll ask questions."

"Alrighty," said Tom. "Here's what I know. Old Thorpe was in his cell, just sittin' there, watchin' a little TV, when the guards heard the ringing of the alarm. Somebody was outta his cell, roamin' the halls, and they figured it couldn't do no harm to leave Thorpe alone. He wasn't doin' nothin'. So they left for about six minutes, came back, and he was gone. We checked the cameras but they didn't pick up nothin' durin' those six minutes. Totally blank they was. Whoever was helpin' him must've been real smart, good with computers, ya know? We's not sure how he got outta the jail, but we's a thinkin' it was somebody on the inside, who wouldn't have attracted no suspicion by walkin' Thorpe around. Everybody in the jail's been questioned, but we's not sure of anythin' yet. His sidekick must've given him those clothes. And the briefcase –" Here Tom hesitated.

"What about the briefcase?"

"It had a gun and also some sorta papers in it," said Tom cryptically, scrutinizing his coffee cup.

"Papers?" Chuck pushed. "What kind? What did they say?"

"Well the first one I saw was black, and it had a round, swirly symbol right smack dab in the middle of it. The only other one was a scrap with an address on it." Tom looked down and picked at his stubby fingernails, and Chuck knew he was hoping that Chuck wouldn't ask the next obvious question, but his attempt was futile.

"What was the address?" Chuck asked. Tom gave Chuck a weary look and pulled out his notepad, where he had chronicled the events of the case, along with details, in his nearly unreadable chicken scratch.

"Here." Tom ripped a piece that contained the address of off the notepad and handed it to Chuck, along with an exact copy of the black and silver sheet. "I hope you find what you's a lookin' for, Mr. Bass."

…

"So what did you find out?" Blair sat at the island of the penthouse's kitchen, a pile of books to her right and her laptop to her left.

"I'm not sure exactly." Chuck sunk into the couch and was too dazed to even pour himself a glass of scotch. Thankfully, Blair did it for him.

"Perhaps I can help you decipher it," she suggested, handing him the drink. Chuck agreed and proceeded to relay all of the events of the time he spent with Tom and ended his story by giving her the two papers – the mysterious black and silver one and the one with the address.

"Anything?" asked Chuck, trying not to be too optimistic.

"Well, this address is in Brooklyn," she replied, "but you probably already knew that." At Chuck's nod, she continued. "As for this one, I must say it's going to be a lot harder to figure out."

"It just looks like a swirl to me." Chuck narrowed his eyes and tried to make something out of the shape, but it looked no more telling than it had before, and its tight spirals kept their secrets unrevealed.

"Give me a second," said Blair, rising from the couch and walking to Chuck's closet. Chuck traced her steps and observed her as she opened one of the topmost drawers in the corner of the spacious room and pulled out a pristine white box.

"What is that?" Chuck took a chance and reached for it, but as expected, Blair pressed it tightly to her chest.

"It's not sex toys if that's what you're thinking," she said, her mouth perking up despite the snappiness in her tone. She set it down on the center of the coffee table in the living room and carefully removed the lid. She pulled out binoculars, a cipher, a magnifying glass, a video camera, an audio recorder, and a few other items.

"You keep that in my closet?"

"There's one in my closet at Daddy's in France, Mother's in Paris, and I even keep one at Dorota's. None of them know, but I like to have a set with me at all times." She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and pulled the black and silver paper up to the magnifying class, squinting her eyes as she studied it.

"You can't possibly think that's normal." Blair looked up from the glass to give him a withering glare and he laughed good-naturedly. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. In fact, I think the female spy thing is very sexy."

"Do you?" she asked, largely ignoring him. Chuck, not liking the lack of attention, sunk to his knees and came up behind Blair's seated body, pressing his hot mouth on her neck and trailing slow kisses down the length of it.

"Yes," he answered softly, inwardly smiling at the slight tremble Blair gave when he touched her.

"And I thought you loved me for my brains," she remarked with smirk, holding up the paper.

"You know what it is?"

"I know it's made up of coded letters and numbers." She grabbed the cipher and magnifying glass and rotated the paper around in order to decode the cryptic message. "November 28th," she read. "9 P.M. at the usual place. Remember, Arcanum is king."

"What the hell?" Chuck finished off his scotch and got up to make another.

"Well the 28th is tomorrow night, and I'm going to assume that the address we were given is the 'usual place' the invitation mentioned."

"And 'Arcanum is king'? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Arcanum is Latin, and I'm almost positive it means a secret known to a select few. Wherever Thorpe was going, it must have been some sort of secret meeting," Blair deduced, already knowing that Chuck would want to go and nervous that he would get himself hurt or worse.

"I have to go, Blair," Chuck said, as if reading her thoughts.

"Then I'm going with you." She stuck up her chin and dared him to disagree.

"No."

"Yes! Who else would you take? You're not going alone!"

"Nate will go with me," Chuck answered decisively, coming up with a name on the spot. He knew he could trust Nate with anything, but then again…

"Nate has a bigger mouth than Perez Hilton after he's knocked back a few Cosmos," said Blair with a derisive snort. "And besides, he isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, is he?"

"Blair –"

"If you're going, so am I. We're in this together Chuck," she told him seriously. "It's you and me, okay?" Chuck was silent for a few moments.

"Okay," he eventually said. "So long as you never leave my side."

"I wouldn't even if you asked me to," she answered.

…

"Serena, please listen to reason!" Nate pleaded, tugging on Serena's hand and leading her away from her closet. "Stop packing for a minute and listen to me!"

"So you're the voice of reason now?" she asked skeptically, continuing to fold a tunic into a neat square.

"Yeah, I guess I am, considering I'm not the one who wants to go to fucking Africa!"

"Nate, I have to do this, okay? I just do." Serena threw open her suitcase and began stuffing airy shirts and cutoffs into it.

"No you don't. You belong in New York, at school, with your friends and your family. And most of all, you belong with me." Nate took her hand again, this time more lovingly.

"Nate, it's done. The plane's booked, and I've already signed up with an organization in Kenya, where I'm going to work on building a water system through remote villages."

"Serena, this is insane," he said, wishing she could see what a big mistake she was making. Dropping out of school was bad enough, but sacrificing the best years of her life, years that she should be spending with the people who loved her? It was far too much for a nineteen year old who was frankly not responsible enough to handle going to Africa on her own, no matter how noble her intentions. But that was the issue Nate suffered the most umbrage by. Serena's intentions really weren't all that noble, and she was primarily going for the purpose of feeling better about herself.

"If Blair's already resigned herself to my going, I think you should understand that you are going to have to too." She held up a cheetah print maxi dress to her frame and frowned. "I think this might be too much," she muttered to herself, hanging it back up.

"I'm begging you; think about what you're actually doing and why you're doing it. Do you really want to sleep in huts or tents, surrounded by bugs and wild animals? Do you really want to go days without bathing or eat foods like rice and yams for every single meal?"

"See, this is exactly why I'm going!" shouted Serena. "Because people think I can't handle it, that I can't do anything meaningful for other people without worrying about myself the whole time!"

"Listen to yourself," said Nate quietly. "Consider what you just said."

"Get out, Nate. I want you out," she ordered coldly. "I have a lot of packing to do, and I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Fine, but, Serena, I have one more thing to say."

"What's that? That you love me and you really want me to stay?" she jeered, despite her qualms about being this harsh to Nate. It's just that she had continuously worried that if she didn't concentrate her energy on being horrible to him, then he really would convince her to stay.

"No. That you need to grow up," said Nate, stomping out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

"That's what I'm doing!" she yelled after him. After her ears were met with only silence, she asked herself a deceivingly simply-phrased question.

"Isn't it?"

…

Eric didn't know how he got himself into these situations. Well, he supposed he did, in the moments when he was completely honest with himself. It was Jonathon's fault, Jonathon, with whom he had reconnected over the summer and who was now the cause of Eric's plight in the acting studio to which he had been dragged. While he was all for Jonathon pursuing his interest in television and film, he found Jonathon's reasoning that he should come along and participate as well ("just for the fun of it" Jonathon had said) quite flimsy. This wasn't fun. It wasn't even close to fun, and Eric was spending the vast majority of his time shooting daggers at Jonathon, threatening looks that told him he would pay for this.

"Next," said the instructor, a woman by the name of Judy Jennings. Eric didn't realize it was him she was referring to until he was given a gentle nudge by one of the other actors. "Name?"

"Eric van der Woodsen."

"Age?"

"Eighteen."

"You're young," she said, appraising him. "Good looks, too, and I believe the van der Woodsen name is well known in the entertainment industry because of the donations you all give to the theatre."

"My mom's a big fan of opera, and my sister likes going to Broadway shows sometimes." Eric wasn't sure she wanted an answer from him, but he was the kind of person who liked to fill uncomfortable silence.

"And you, Eric? What do you enjoy?"

"Movies," said Eric honestly. "Especially the classics and my favorite is Casablanca." She gave him what Eric interpreted as an approving glance.

"Next."

"Charlie Rhodes, twenty," said the girl to Eric's left. He briefly wondered whether she could be related to him before remembering that Aunt Carol had never mentioned a daughter before, and it was highly unlikely that she could be a member of the family if even his grandmother hadn't spoken of her.

"Rhodes? Are you by any chance related to Ms. van der Woodsen, well Humphrey now I suppose?"

"Yes, actually," she responded, astonishing Eric with her answer and explanation. "Eric, I'm Carol's daughter, and I know we've never met before, and honestly when we did, I thought it would be with my mom, but yeah. We're cousins, and I'm now relieved to have met you first knowing that you're an actor too." She grinned at Eric when she was done, and after mumbling an excuse to the instructor, he pulled her aside to find some answers about this secret cousin of his.

"I don't understand how you can be my cousin, yet I've never heard of you." He kept his tone light, hoping that a warm reception might be beneficial in getting her to open up more.

"My mom wanted to protect me from you all," she said. "She never even told me about you until about a month ago, and she only mentioned bad things." Charlie's eyes were apologetic.

"Okay, so I guess I understand why she would want to keep you from us. The van der Woodsen / Bass / Humphrey family isn't exactly the Brady bunch of Manhattan, not to mention your mom and mine can't stand each other, but why did she choose to tell you when she did?"

"I don't know." Charlie chewed her thumbnail, contemplating the question. "I really don't."

…

Vanessa was in much better spirits than she had been in a long time. Not only was Dan's book about to be published (he'd already been sent the first copy), but also, she felt immense pride in knowing that she was the catalyst who rolled everything into place. She may not have kept a penny of the money from the sale of the manuscript, but the manager of the agency offered her a job, which she gratefully accepted, eager to get out of unemployment and help her sister pay rent. Besides, she loved to read, almost as much as she loved making movies, and as if that wasn't incentive enough, she would get to pan all of the ones she despised, mercilessly cutting them down in the rejection letters she would send to disappointed authors. For once, she felt powerful, powerful enough to venture out of the Brooklyn boroughs and into Manhattan. She should have known better than to assume she wouldn't see anyone she knew.

"Vanessa, is that you?"

"Hi, Rufus," she said, feigning a smile. It's not that she didn't want to see Rufus; it was that she didn't want to see anyone connected to Rufus. "And Jenny, hi."

"Hello Vanessa." Jenny put a polite smile on her face as well, but Vanessa could see through it. Jenny was no more pleased to see her than she was to see Jenny.

"So, what brings you to town?" Vanessa asked, noticing Rufus' expectant look. He apparently had no idea that she and Jenny hadn't been close in a long time.

"I'm checking out design schools," she answered, genuinely looking forward to it. "I have a tour at Parson's tomorrow."

"Cool." Vanessa looked down at her high tops and wished they would leave, but with Rufus, she knew that was unlikely to occur.

"You know, Vanessa, I think Dan misses you," Rufus said.

"Probably about as much as he misses getting wedgies from the lacrosse team his freshman year of high school," said Vanessa bitterly. She had pledged to love Dan no more, yet she was finding it much more difficult than she anticipated. You couldn't just stop loving someone by saying the words.

"I'm sure whatever act he's pulling, he'll eventually come around," Jenny put in. "We all know Dan can be a real dick sometimes."

"Jenny!" Rufus looked surprised that his darling daughter would say such a thing about his equally precious son, but Vanessa just chuckled in agreement.

"Thanks, Jen. I hope you're right. So are you avoiding the Upper East Side like I am?" she asked, not knowing how touchy the subject was with Jenny but curious to know how she was feeling about being in the same city as Chuck and Blair.

"On the contrary, I've decided to go speak with Chuck and Blair about what happened. I've come to terms with it, and I hope that they will too if they haven't already." Vanessa hadn't noticed it before, but she did now. Jenny was carrying herself with more confidence than she had ever seen, and her face was no longer caked in makeup, her eyes were coated with only a bit of mascara, and her hair was all natural and reached just below her shoulders. She looked like an older version of the freshman Jenny.

"Wow that takes some guts," said Vanessa. "You look really good by the way, Jenny. Hudson served you well."

"It did," Jenny agreed. "I feel more myself than I have since the beginning of high school. I'm a lot stronger than I used to be."

"That's great." Vanessa smiled for real this time. She did miss having a friend, and maybe being a loner wasn't what she wanted after all. "Hey, Jen, do you think you might want to hang out one day while you're here?"

"Yeah, sure." At Rufus' insistence that they were going to miss their reservation for lunch, Jenny left, but she waved goodbye with a pleasant smile on her face.

Things kept looking up for Vanessa.

…

For all her talk about being stronger now, Jenny was still a bit nervous about going to The Empire, where everything had happened and where she knew Chuck and Blair would be. She hadn't talked to Serena yet, but Eric informed her that Chuck and Blair weren't exactly in a relationship at the moment, but that they had never needed labels for what they had. They were just as in love as ever, he said, and Jenny was genuinely pleased to hear it. She couldn't bear the idea of the mistake she made with Chuck being what ended the epic saga that was and always had been Chuck and Blair. She took a deep breath as the elevator opened and she entered the penthouse.

"Chuck?" she called out apprehensively. "Blair?"

"Jenny?" Blair took in Jenny's appearance and nodded slightly. "God, you look so much better than you did before. Those raccoon eyes were dreadful." Jenny couldn't help but giggle at Blair, who never seemed to change.

"Yeah, I figured that out. It just took me a little while."

"Jenny, I didn't know you were in town." Chuck entered the room and immediately stood next to Blair, putting an arm around her delicate waist. "What's the occasion?" His tone wasn't unfriendly by any means, just more formal than she was accustomed to.

"School shopping," she answered. "Parson's is my number one at the moment, and I'm touring there tomorrow."

"With your talent, I'm sure you'll get in, but if you're worried, my mother is friends with Tim Gunn, and she can probably pull some strings." Blair's offer was unexpected to say the least, and Jenny would have doubted it if it wasn't for the complete lack of frostiness in Blair's brown eyes.

"Oh my God, Blair, thank you so much."

"It's no burden. So, anyway, now we know what you're doing in the city, but what are you doing here?" asked Blair gently. She didn't like the reminders of the past, but she figured that was the cause of Jenny's visit. She could remember how shattered she'd felt when she learned of what happened in the short time during her chase from the hospital to the Empire State Building and finally the penthouse.

The look of guilt on Chuck's face and the tears on Jenny's horrified and devastated her, breaking her into bits and pieces of rage and depression and shock. Chuck was trying to explain, to make an excuse for his actions like he always did. She couldn't bear to listen, but she recognized "Jenny" in a portion of his pathetic apology.

"Don't say her name!" Blair screamed. "Or anything else to me ever again!"

Now Blair felt as if her reaction had stemmed mostly from her residual anger and resentment at Chuck for the debacle with Jack. She hadn't been ready to move forward, and Jenny gave her an excuse to run away in the opposite direction, covering her eyes and ears and not looking back. Yes, she was hurt by it, but upon reflection, she understood that Jenny and Chuck were both so broken and alone that they believed only additional hurt could cure their pain. Chuck loved her, and Jenny loved Nate, and neither thought that the object of their love felt the same way. It was rather tragic, looking at it that way.

"I just wanted to apologize," said Jenny, confirming Blair's prediction but in an unexpected manner. "I was, like, totally depressed and drugged up, but I still should have known better, and what's worse is I acted like it was all Chuck's fault, even though I knew that wasn't true."

"Jenny –" Chuck started to cut her off, but she wasn't finished.

"I'm sorry that I helped tear you guys apart when you should have been coming back together, and I would take it back if I could. It took me a while, but I've forgiven you and myself, and I hope you can forgive me too."

"I know I have," said Blair, pulling Jenny into an embrace. "I understand it was no one's fault."

"I'm sorry too, Jenny." Chuck stood back as the girls hugged and kept his eyes downcast. "I was older, and I shouldn't have let it happen."

"Neither of us should feel guilty." Chuck looked up and saw that Jenny seemed to be sincere. "Seriously, Chuck. I've moved past it."

Chuck nodded, and the three managed to have a better-than-decent night. Blair and Jenny talked about fashion and what had happened to all of the bitches in Jenny's grade, and Jenny told them about her time in Hudson and how much she was enjoying it. Chuck didn't say much, but he was glad of the warmness and mutual respect he saw Blair and Jenny had for each other. He knew what it meant to have forgiveness, to atone for past errors. He knew that people's biggest mistakes, the moments when they least deserved forgiveness, were the ones they most needed forgiveness for. But most of all, he knew what it was like to be loved by Blair, and if Jenny could manage to cultivate sisterly affection, her life would be much better. Life was always better with Blair's love.

…

The next morning, Nate was anxious. He hadn't heard a thing from Serena, and he didn't know what to think. Was she still furious with him because of what he said, and she didn't want to give him the courtesy of saying a proper goodbye? Or had she not called because she knew he was right, and she didn't want to admit it? Would he never see her again, or would he see her walking around the next street over tomorrow, pretending like she didn't see him when he knew she did? It was all too much for his brain to handle.

"Hey Nate," Eric said tiredly, entering Nate's office at a sluggish pace.

"Eric, I don't mean to be rude, and you know I love when you visit, but –"

"What am I doing here?"

"Well yeah." Nate sat back in his soft, leather chair and put his legs on his desk, crossing them comfortably.

"It's my long-lost cousin, Charlie. Now that she's been found, she won't leave me the heck alone!" Eric sighed in frustration and took the seat in front of Nate's desk. Before Nate could answer, there was a knock on the door.

"Yeah?" called Nate, annoyed that his intercom hadn't been fixed yet.

"It's Charlie. Is Eric in there? Lily told me he might be here." Eric, after hearing the voice, vigorously shook his head mouthing an order that Nate needed to answer in the negative, but Nate, in dire need of entertainment, didn't listen.

"Come on in." Nate was surprised when he saw Charlie. He wasn't surprised that she was beautiful, she was related to Serena after all, but she looked pretty different from what he remembered of Carol. "So you're Charlie?"

"The one and only," she said with a laugh. "And you're Nate, Serena's boyfriend."

"The one and only Nate, and hopefully the one and only Serena's boyfriend," quipped Nate. He had no idea whether he was her boyfriend anymore, but he definitely wasn't going to be the first to deny it.

"I only saw Serena for like three seconds, but she seems nice," said Charlie. "As is her brother, my fellow actor here." She elbowed Eric and laughed again. Eric tried to smile and looked only vaguely annoyed with his cousin. Maybe he should be an actor, thought Nate.

"I'm not really an actor, Charlie, like I said before."

"So what's going on with Serena?" Charlie asked, either not hearing or not paying attention to Eric's remark.

"She's going to Africa," Nate managed to answer, knowing his voice sounded strained.

"Really?" Charlie's eyes were wide. "It didn't sound like she was going to Africa when I saw her this morning."

"What are you talking about?" Eric asked. "I haven't seen her at all today."

"Well, it was super early, about five," said Charlie, then noting Nate and Eric's expressions, she clarified. "I'm used to waking up early for my job, so I happened to be awake when Serena came into the kitchen. She looked surprised to see me, but she didn't really say anything, then some guy came to get her and they left together."

"Some guy?" Nate tried to sound less panicky than he felt.

"Yeah, I'm trying to remember his name. He had brown hair, and they hugged and seemed fairly close."

"What was it? What was his name, Charlie?"

"Oh, I remember!" she exclaimed, pleased with herself. "His name was Carter!"

…

Vanessa was angry; no, angry didn't begin to cover it. She was furious, livid even. Jenny had promised to meet her for brunch, but she'd bailed at the last minute, offering up some lame excuse about being tired and needing to rest before her tour at Parson's. Vanessa was completely understanding about it until she saw the Gossip Girl blast.

Gossip Girl: Looks like Little J has returned to NYC, and she's already back on top. Breakfasting with the resident King and Queen of the UES? My, my, Little J, you're no court jester anymore. Let's see how long this lady will stay in royal favor. You know you love me.

Every time she received a blast, Vanessa wondered why she subscribed to that ridiculous website, one that served no purpose other than inflating the egos of the already egotistical by dedicating itself to reporting about their lives, but this time, she was glad. She was glad to know that Jenny was still a liar, glad to know that Jenny still wanted to be a part of the elite crowd. Vanessa obviously still wasn't good enough for her, and while it hurt, it was better than a lie.

"Is this seat taken?" Vanessa looked up and was actually pleased with who she saw.

"Scott, hey! How long have you been in town?"

"Not long," he said, smiling at the girl he once dated. He might have been Lily and Rufus' child, but he didn't regret his decision to leave the Upper East Side.

"Are you here visiting your parents?" She wasn't sure if they had been communicating at all since Scott left to return to his adoptive parents, and she couldn't recall Rufus or Lily ever mentioning him in the few months she had been dating Dan this year.

"No, I'm visiting my girlfriend," he explained. "She goes to Columbia."

"Columbia, really? That's awesome," said Vanessa.

"Yeah, she loves it there. I met her at an environmental protection rally over the summer, and we spent a couple weeks building for Habitat for Humanity after that."

"Sounds like my kind of girl." Vanessa was happy to see that Scott seemed to be in a good place. She knew that with parents like Rufus and Lily, who didn't know him for the first two decades of his life, and also with his crazy adoptive parents, who lied about who he was, it must be difficult to feel familial love. If Scott could find bliss with his girlfriend, she was all for it.

"She's amazing," he said. "I'm thinking of moving to the city just to be with her."

"Nice," said Vanessa. "So are you working or would you have to transfer schools?"

"I graduated in three years, and now I'm working as an accountant. It's not a dream job, but it pays for my apartment." His phone rang and he immediately pulled it out of his pocket to answer. "Hi, Juliet. Sure, I'll be there in ten."

"So her name is Juliet?" asked Vanessa when Scott hung up.

"Juliet Sharpe," answered Scott proudly. "And she's perfect."

…

"Are you ready for this?" Blair's heart was beating uncomfortably fast, and she didn't like that her palms were sweaty. It wasn't like her to be afraid; she was Blair Waldorf, for God's sake, and she had Chuck Bass by her side, but she couldn't help it. She was scared.

"No, but we're going anyway." At least he'd said we. Blair, after making sure her palm was wiped dry, slipped her hand into Chuck's, and both knocked on the door of the extremely grand brownstone in Brooklyn. A portion, only large enough for a pair of eyes to see through, slid open.

"Invitation?" the eyes asked. Chuck held it up, and the door opened. As soon as they entered, they saw that this was no meeting, or if it was, it was the kind of business Blair wanted no part of. Girls were clad in skimpy, identical black dresses, lounging in the laps of men, young and old, who were dressed in sharp suits.

"Interested in a friend, sir?" asked one of the skanks, fluttering her eyelashes.

"He's got a friend," snapped Blair, moving closer to Chuck to assert her ownership.

"Perhaps you'd like to be seen to a room then? Somewhere nice and private?"

"Yes, we'd love to see the rooms, all of them in fact," said Chuck.

"This way, please." They followed the tall brunette through half a dozen rooms, coming up with a reason to say no every time, since none were able to give them any answers as to why Russell would be interested in going to a place like this.

"You know what? I think we need to check out the occupied ones." Their hostess barely reacted, and Blair assumed she was used to strange requests considering her industry.

"She likes to watch," added Chuck, observing Blair as she strut away and opened doors at random whenever she paused.

When their inspection of the second floor proved fruitless, the hostess said she had to return to the main floor and left them to their own devices.

"You take this floor, and I'll take the fourth?" Blair proposed. After Chuck agreed, she climbed the staircase, taking quiet steps. Perhaps that was why they hadn't found anything yet. They were being too obvious about looking.

"I'm not running some low class escort service here," Blair heard a British voice say. "This is how I make a living, and you're not going to give me any less than I deserve!"

"Chill, Diana. You'll get your money." She knew that voice. It was no shock to her that Jack was at a place like this, but why was he offering the owner money? "We appreciate your cooperation and the discreetness with which you've handled this delicate situation." Now Blair was even more confused. Who was the 'we' Jack spoke of, and what was the 'delicate situation' he had gotten himself into?

"Yes, well, for that reason, I expect double the rate we discussed."

"Jesus, are you trying to bankrupt me?"

"No, and I believe what I'm asking is reasonable compensation for what I've done."

"You're ridiculous, woman, but I suppose I can't deny a lady anything." Blair heard a third voice murmur something, but she couldn't make out the words, and it wasn't loud enough for her to place the voice.

"But Thorpe's dead now. I don't see what the rush is."

"She's just saying that because she wants more money, but she does have a point. Why do you have to go out on a boat tomorrow?" After Jack's question, the voice spoke again, but she still couldn't hear it properly.

"Yeah, Chuck's been digging, but he's not going to find anything. We've been too careful for that to happen." Whatever Diana, Jack, and the third voice were discussing, it involved Chuck.

"You have nothing to worry about," seconded Diana.

"Yes I do, damn it!"

Blair had to stop herself from crying out. It was Bart's voice. But that wasn't possible, she reasoned. He was dead and had been for almost two years, yet she knew it was him, and Jack's answer confirmed it.

"Whoa there, brother, calm down. Your son may be a chip off the old block, but he would never be warped enough to connect anything to you."

"Russell escaped after finding out I was alive. Who's to say the same person that informed him won't inform Chuck too?"

"Because if what happened to Russell is any indication, they won't have the guts."

"Jack, that was an accident," countered Bart. "Albeit a convenient one."

"But the squealer doesn't know that."

"I'm going, regardless," Bart declared, leaving no room for argument. It was a tone Blair occasionally heard from Chuck.

"Let's go to my office then," said Diana. "It's on the third floor, so we'll have to be alert going down." Blair then realized that if they left the room, they would see her, and she began to backtrack toward the staircase. When she reached the third floor, she snatched Chuck's arm and pulled him into a small room, locking the door behind them.

"Chuck, you've got to see something," she said breathlessly.

"What is it? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Heard one, in fact," she said with a strange, alien laugh.

"Blair, what happened?" She covered Chuck's mouth with her hand and signaled for him to stay quiet as three sets of footsteps went by. When they were gone, she spoke.

"Come on." Without explaining any of her words or actions, Blair dragged Chuck along to the just-closed door on the third floor. "Kick it open," she said.

"Are you sure it's locked?"

"I heard it click."

Chuck took a deep breath and kicked with all his strength. The door was flung open by the force, and all three inhabitants of the room gasped, as did Chuck, who looked unsteady on his feet.

"Dad?"

"Oh my God."

Come here
No I won't say please
One more look at the ghost
Before I'm gonna make it leave
Come here
I've got the pieces here
Time to gather up the splinters
Build a casket for my tears

Until next time – xoxo