Hi, you gorgeous readers! I have an early Christmas/late Hanukkah/another holiday that I have not mentioned present for you: Chapter 27 of FOWB! (FINALLY.) And this one is full of twists, so get excited.
An extra present (AKA my gratitude/love) goes out to: anabelle12 (your reviews never fail to make my day and make me smile xo :), RauhlPrincess (i just got a twitter, and i followed you! #techtimewithbecca = hilarioussss), kauraREX (i hope this chap keeps you on the edge ;), Chairytale Ending (no chair sex in this chapter, but there may be some in the future. i am so mad we only got one scene this whole season! wtf? i miss season 2...), & pLei4fun (your review pushed me to write this chapter today, so thank you! i needed that!)
I want to know what everyone thought of the finale! I'm so sad it's over, but except for the Derena ending (I will always be a Serenate gal), I thought the finale was fantastic! We got our chairytale ending, and we got Henry! 3
Feel free to leave me a review as MY Christmas present ;) Without further ado, Chapter 27...
Chapter 27: Breathing Underwater
I'm the blade, you're a knife
I'm the weight, you're the kite
They were right when they said
We were breathing underwater
Out of place all the time
In a world that wasn't mine to take;
I'll wait
-"Breathing Underwater" Metric
"Dorota! Dorota!"
"Yes, Miss Blair. I coming." Dorota stuck her head in Blair's bedroom and was greeted with the sight of cascading fuchsia ruffles. "Oh, Miss Blair, you look like princess!"
Blair smiled slightly at Dorota before returning her eyes to the mirror, where she was anxiously studying her reflection.
"Thank you, Dorota, but I don't think this one is right either. I can't wear fuchsia to a holiday party! That's like wearing yellow to a funeral."
"People wear yellow to Michael Jackson funeral."
"And you think that's a convincing point?"
"But, Miss Blair, this dress number twenty-four," sighed Dorota. "We not have all night. Mr. Chuck will be here - "
"Mr. Chuck will wait if I ask him to," cut in Blair, with a wave of dismissal. "Right now, I'm concerned with impressing everyone at the Hamilton House party."
"First of all," drawled another voice. "Chuck Bass waits for no one, and second, you impress everyone no matter what you're wearing."
"What's in your hands?" asked Blair, immediately noticing the large, patterned box he had with him. "Is that for me?"
"What, no response? No greeting at all?" teased Chuck, gently pulling on one of Blair's spiral curls. "That's not the way to treat a date, especially one who, yes, did bring a gift for you."
"I'm sorry," Blair huffed quickly, relaxing her face. "Hi, Chuck. Can I have it now?"
"Not a chance."
"Bass!" she whined. "I'm not in the mood for a game."
"And I'm not in the mood to be verbally or physically assaulted, Waldorf," he chuckled, catching her small, white hand as it headed for his shoulder. Blair nodded, realizing her frustrations were not Chuck's fault, and they should not be released on him.
"I'm sorry." It had more meaning this time. "Hi, Chuck." She kissed his forehead, his cheek, his nose, his jaw. "I love you, and I'm glad you're here."
"I love you too, which is why I brought this for you." He handed her the box, which she managed not to snatch out of his possession. Blair untied the silky bow and fingered the name underneath it.
"Elie Saab?" she breathed. "You shouldn't have, but I'm so happy you did!" A wide grin spread on her face as she threw off the lid and saw sparkling, gilded fabric.
"I buy you things for this," he said, gently brushing his finger across her lips. "I love seeing you smile your couture smile."
"My couture smile?" She unzipped the fuchsia mess and lifted the impeccable gold creation over her head. "I didn't know I had one."
"Well it's more of a fashion appreciation smile. You use it all the time at Bergdorf's."
"Must be similar to your smile when you see a scarf," she said, eyeing the pop of red wool around his neck before disappearing into her closet.
"I already have to remind Nathaniel not to mock my scarves. Not you too." He picked a stray piece of lint off of the attention-grabbing cherry color.
"Why, are they back to being your signature?" she called, searching out the perfect pair of shoes as she successfully slid the dress over her hips.
"I told him that in confidence!"
"You should know by now that anything said around Nate is not said in confidence." Finally ready, Blair emerged from her closet in gold heels concealed by the floor-length dress.
"God, Blair. It looks even better on you than I imagined. I could be considered a hedonist for buying that for you." The glimmering, ornate beads were striking without being ostentatious, and the dress looked made for her.
"Thank you, Chuck. You're quite winsome yourself. You're wearing a gold bowtie, aren't you?"
"Is that even a question? Now, come on. Arthur's waiting."
…
"B! You look like a goddess!" Serena threw her arms around her best friend as soon as she got close enough.
"Thanks, S. And you look like a supermodel, as always."
Serena ran her hands down her shimmering silver gown, which featured chains in loops around the bodice. Versace never failed a van der Woodsen woman.
"Naomi Campbell, right?" joked Serena.
"Yes. In both appearance and insanity level." The girls laughed until an unwelcome voice interrupted them.
"I always pegged you for a Claudia Schiffer," said Carter Baizen, staring at Serena unabashedly. "Tall and blonde with a banging body."
"Carter, what the hell are you doing here?" whispered Serena angrily, her eyes darting around the room. "This is a formal event. You can't just show up."
"I didn't. I'm some lame junior's plus one. She's at the bar, trying to drink until she turns pretty and skinny."
"Oh my God," moaned Blair. "Of all the things that could have happened tonight…"
"Get used to the undesirable guests," said Serena, pointing her finger. Jack and Diana had entered the party, both in flamboyant garb, and were heading in Blair's direction. "Carter, I want you to go to the east corner of this room, text me when you're there, and I will speak with you for a total of two minutes."
Carter said nothing, only lurked off, grabbing a cocktail as he went.
"You've got to be kidding me," groaned Blair, as Jack, in a 70s-style suit and neon shirt, and Diana, in a skin-tight zebra dress, reached her.
"Blair, old pal. Is someone telling a bad joke again?" asked Jack, the twinkle of alcohol in his eye.
"No, just looking at one," she sniped, narrowing her eyes. "Why are you here?"
"Crashing parties is a Bass specialty."
"So essentially, what you're saying is you're here to drink and dance," she clarified.
"Correct, Miss Waldorf."
Diana nodded in agreement with Jack's words.
"That's a relief," she sighed. "Now, listen. I don't want you upchucking either one your crappy one-liners or the pound of cocktail shrimp I know you're planning to consume on any of the guests, so let's not go overboard with the alcohol, yes?"
"Whatever you say."
"Good answer. Now run along."
"You look ravishing by the way," Jack added over his shoulder.
"What is it with Basses and that word?" she muttered, hoping that Serena would successfully manage Carter and there would not be any more issues. But then again, the party was only twenty minutes in, so she wasn't going to get her hopes up.
…
"Hey, Eric, Jonathon. How are you guys?"
"Pretty good. How about you, Nate?" asked Eric, who looked dapper in Tom Ford.
"Much better now that your sister and I are solid again," Nate assured him, remembering that Eric did not enjoy being his babysitter when Serena left with Carter.
"Listen, Nate. About that," Eric began. He wasn't quite sure how to phrase "I just saw Carter Baizen talking to Serena," without A) causing Nate pain or B) causing Nate to punch someone. Luckily, he didn't have to finish.
"Baizen's here," Chuck announced to the group. "Serena tried talking him into leaving, but that didn't work, so Blair got security on it. I didn't ask what he wanted. You better ask Serena."
"He's here? Where exactly?"
Chuck recognized the dangers within the eagerness of Nate's query.
"Not telling you, man. We all know what happens when you and Baizen interact at parties. He gets punched, and you get thrown out."
"Hey, I think I've matured since cotillion in the 11th grade," Nate argued. Chuck and Eric shared a skeptical look.
"I believe you, Nate," said Jonathon. "But I think I may be the only one."
"You are," Chuck and Eric answered immediately.
"You must not spend enough time around him to know that he has the maturity of a twelve-year-old," added Chuck.
"I'd say eleven," Eric said with a chuckle.
"He said he thinks he's matured since 11th grade," Jonathon explained. "And I believe he thinks that. I'd probably side with you on the question of his maturity development, though." Chuck, Eric, and Jonathon shared a laugh as Nate looked on darkly.
"Oh, don't pout, man. Serena's at about the third-grade level, which makes you perfect for each other."
"Why are Nate and I perfect for each other?" interrupted Serena, walking to Nate's side.
"You're immature," Eric said bluntly. "But in a cute way."
"Gee, thanks, little bro," replied Serena mordantly. "Love you too."
"We're going to dance now," said Jonathon, taking Eric's hand and pulling him to the dance floor. "Catch you all later."
"Listen, Serena," said Nate, as soon as the pair left. "What did Carter want?"
"Me." She rolled her eyes. "He's a complete lunatic, but he thinks it's some sort of turn on."
"He didn't threaten you with anything, right?" asked Chuck.
"Nope," Serena said. "Can we please have a drink now?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
…
"Do you think he suspects anyone in particular yet?" a female voice asked, far away from the Hamilton House party.
"No," the male responded shortly. "Neither Bass does."
"You'd think they would be cleverer."
"Or at least pay someone else to be," a third person chimed in.
"Bart may after tonight."
"Are you sure it's a good idea to go through with this?" asked the woman.
"It's not your job to ask questions," he said harshly. "We don't ask, we just do."
"And if I'm not comfortable with what we're doing?"
"Honey, you're in way too deep to get out now."
…
"Blair, have you had a drink yet tonight?"
"Are you kidding, Maggie? When would I have had time to have a drink?" Her eyes were frantic and she looked ready to shove Maggie's drink up a place Maggie didn't want it shoved. But all Maggie could do was laugh at Blair's visible anxiety.
"Come on, loosen up. It's a party, for God's sake!"
"The party I'm supposed to be in charge of. And it's full of crashers, and did you know that they sent Gouda cheese to go with the bruschetta? Gouda?"
"Blair, chill," cackled Maggie. "I like Gouda. And no one cares what cheese is served anyway. If they have a few drinks, they won't even be able to tell if it's that processed, orange kind."
"You mean American?" asked Blair. Maggie nodded. "The fact that people actually eat that is revolting."
"Well, it's not that terrible on grilled cheese."
"Take that back or we're not friends anymore."
"You're willing to sacrifice our friendship based on cheese preference?" questioned Maggie with an amused smirk.
"I once dropped a minion in the ninth grade because she brought a Twinkie to lunch." Blair's face was deadly serious. "A Twinkie to lunch at Constance."
"Well, then," said Maggie, throwing up her hands. "No more American cheese for me!"
"Good. Now let's go find Chuck and that loser Joe Shmoe you brought along and dance."
"Loser Joe Shmoe? I'm offended you think my taste in men is truly so horrendous!" exclaimed Maggie.
"Mags, you waited until three nights ago to even RSVP, so you asked the guy who takes your order at Starbucks," Blair said, grimacing. "He has dreadlocks."
"I'm making his life tonight, and besides, he's kind of cute. Just look past the dreads, and kind of frame his face with your hands like this," instructed Maggie, holding up her hands and squinting slightly.
"It's the California in you," sighed Blair. "I'm afraid I can't entirely extract it."
"You don't really want to. You secretly find it enchanting."
"I really do. I mean, those dreads are probably full of things like diseases or dead animals!"
"Or secrets," Maggie said with a wink. "You know what they say about big hair."
…
"Have you told Blair yet?" Diana asked Jack, crossing her legs. They were seated at the bar and both were nursing glasses of scotch. Chuck wasn't the only Bass who enjoyed it.
"No."
"And are you going to?" Diana pressed, sipping her drink. "This is serious for that poor girl."
"You think I don't know that?" Jack ran a hand through his hair. "Eleanor told me to wait until the right time."
"Is there a right time?"
Jack thought about it.
"I guess not," he answered. "I feel sorry for her. She's tough on the outside, but on the inside, she's just as screwed up as my nephew."
"Why isn't Eleanor here, telling Blair herself?" asked Diana, a slight frown on her face. "Why leave it to you?"
"She's enjoying her travels with Cyrus. If she came to tell Blair, Blair wouldn't let her leave," explained Jack. "It's one of the things I admire about that girl. When she cares about you, she stops at nothing to save you."
"Physically or emotionally?"
"Both, I suppose," he said, chuckling humorlessly as he remembered a rooftop night a couple years back. "You know, she saved Chuck in more ways than one."
"You have to tell her. Do you know how long Eleanor has?"
"I will. And no, I don't know, but after tonight, I'll tell Blair that her mother is sick."
…
"You ready to go?" asked Chuck, grabbing Blair's hand.
"Mm-hm." She smiled at him, couldn't stop smiling at him.
"What?"
"What do mean, what?"
"Why are you smiling?"
"I just love you is all."
He smiled at her, couldn't stop smiling at her.
"I love you too."
Still holding hands, they walked to the garage where their limo awaited.
"Bye, losers!" called Nate, climbing into his own.
"Later, freak!"
The driver pressed the gas. The leather felt chilly on their backs, but their cheeks were still flushed from dancing.
"I love every part of you."
"Even the scarves?"
She took a deep breath, because it was a simple question, really, but she had a lot to say.
"Yes, immensely. And the scotch and bowties and schemes and laughs…The way you pinch your nose when you're frustrated, the way you laugh around just me, the way you hold me when you know I've had a bad day…And the fact that you're a romantic and I'm the only one who knows it. You, Chuck Bass, are the love of my life. You're the one I never want to leave."
And I won't ever leave you, is what she didn't have to say. Because he already knew.
"Are you sure?"
But he asked just in case, because even though he despised it about himself, he still thought that she deserved someone like Nate Archibald, never understood how he got so lucky, how he got Blair Waldorf.
Instead of answering in words, she kissed him like she did when she was sixteen and he was sixteen and butterflies the color of peonies flew into their stomachs in swarms.
Then, out of nowhere, they heard an "Oh, shit!" and felt the force of something (a car? a truck? a railing?) hit the limo.
Everything went black. But the butterflies weren't quite ready to stop stirring.
…
"It's done."
"Done? Are they, are they - " she couldn't say the word out loud.
"Dead? No. Not yet, at least."
"But they will be?" she asked, hating herself as her lip began quivering.
"The girl will most likely make it. Bass, on the other hand, doesn't have much of a shot."
"It should be a considered a success then."
The woman scowled at the stentorian and loathed voice.
"We shouldn't call it that."
"Women are too sensitive for this, I'm telling you." Lackadaisical eyes met hers pointedly. "Can't take the death."
"Maybe because the death isn't necessary. Chuck didn't do anything wrong."
"I don't care if he's the pope," the cold voice cut in, putting an end to the squabbling between the belligerents. "Like I said, we just do."
…
"No, no, no…" Bart said into the receiver, hardly breathing. "This can't be true."
It was. And he knew it, which is why it was so very difficult to supply oxygen to his lungs.
"Where? Where are they?"
The limo was there within seconds. The breathing became more difficult as he looked at it in all its shiny black grandeur. Getting in it felt like a betrayal, because his son had believed he would be kept safe in his. And now Chuck was in a hospital bed, not safe at all.
…
"Eleanor's coming."
Six heads looked up.
"She is?"
"She has to."
"Of course. If it were Serena or Eric - "
"Or Dan or Jenny - "
"Please stop." Bart still wasn't breathing right. "The reality is bad enough, we don't need the hypothetical too."
"You're right."
"I'm so sorry, Bart."
"We all are."
"And they're going to be fine."
"I hope so." Small breath in, small breath out. "God, I hope so."
…
Hours passed. Darkness turned to light, and it seemed to mean something more than just the natural workings of the world because of the news the crowd received with the first, soft yellow rays of sunlight.
"Miss Waldorf is awake."
"Can we see her?" Eleanor had arrived during the night after taking a jet from Napa Valley. "Can I see my daughter?"
"Of course, Mrs. Rose. But first, the doctor needs to speak with her privately. She may not wish to disclose all of her procedure, as she is legally an adult."
"Is something going on? I demand to know!" Eleanor was gravely ill, but she wasn't feeble. Never feeble, never compliant. Always powerful, always commanding.
"Eleanor, sweetie, let's just calm down. It's completely normal for her doctor to speak to her, and I'm sure Blair will tell you everything that happened last night."
Eleanor nodded, sinking back into her chair.
"Fine. But I won't wait forever."
…
"Miss Waldorf? How are you feeling?"
"It's Blair, please. And not so great, actually." She opened her eyes, looked around the room. "What - wait where - and who - oh my God!"
"Blair, I need you to relax. Take deep breaths, close your eyes if you have to. I'm here to explain what happened last night."
"I - I'm in the hospital!"
"Yes."
"Chuck! Where is Chuck? Oh my God, tell me he's okay!"
"He's alive."
Blair clenched at the sheets, because even she knew those words were deceiving.
"But?" she asked, her voice already breaking like thin ice.
"But he's in critical condition."
Blair didn't know how long she sobbed, just that the doctor let her. It could have been five minutes, hours, days. Time ceased to matter if Chuck was at a standstill.
"What are you doing to help him? I'll pay whatever it takes to get him healthy."
"He's in the best care, Blair." The doctor sat down in the bulky, cream armchair beside her bed. "My name is Dr. Lisa Ravindran. Now, there are two ways we can do this. Either I can answer all of your questions as I talk, or I can tell you everything and you can ask questions at the end. It's your choice."
"I would say the end, but I know I'll end up interrupting you anyway," said Blair, wiping her eyes.
"Okay, well let me ask you a question first. What do you remember?"
"I remember…Telling Chuck I love him, and we were kissing, and then I felt the limo slam into something. That's honestly the last thing I remember."
"Well," said Ravindran, scribbling something illegible into her notepad. "Then I have some filling in to do. I wasn't in the group that came to the scene of the accident, but I was told that the limo ran into a rail on the side of the road. The driver didn't brake in time to make a sharp turn."
"Hold on, what happened to him? It wasn't Arthur driving, was it?"
"No, it was someone with the last name Stevens. He was pronounced dead on the scene."
"Oh my God." She clenched the sheets again. "Did he have a family?" she whispered, unsure if she really wanted to know. But she had to, even if she didn't entirely want to.
"A wife," answered Ravindran. "And twin girls, age three."
Blair was silent for a moment. "Keep going," she said, her voice still a whisper, her eyes still stinging.
"You and Chuck were brought to the E.R., where both of you were immediately sent to me. He was in worse condition, but I ended up operating on you first, for obvious reasons."
"Why would you do that? What reasons?" Blair could feel the resentment mounting. Why would they work on her first if Chuck was clearly worse off?
"You don't know?" Ravindran looked a bit shocked, or maybe it was alarm.
"Know what?"
"Blair… you're pregnant."
…
Nights are days
We beat a path through the mirrored maze
I can see the end
But it hasn't happened yet
I can see the end
But it hasn't happened yet
Is this my life?
Am I breathing underwater?
Until next time - xoxo