A/N: I remember the few weeks when I was on a roll with the updating and think: 'We win some, we lose some.' The thing with writing is we are a slave to the inspiration. Writing when you are not moved to do so can suck the love you feel for your work right out of you and make it so dreadfully awful that you want to throw in the towel permanently. I'm sorry that this process kept this chapter from you for so long, but here finally is. Please remember this is un-beta'd because you waited too damn long and I wasn't about to make you wait longer.

THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO MY DARLING ISA. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! -kiss-

SPECIAL THANKS to Leona for trying to help me jump-start my process!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Gossip Girl's Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf, I just want to prove they can stand by each other through anything.

Chapter 29

"Silent Night"

It was hard to believe that war could be this quiet.

Following the picture she'd received from Chuck on Christmas day, Blair had found an e-mail in her In-box, outlining Chuck's demands for keeping his silence. According to the note, if she didn't stop seeing Nate publicly, if he caught wind of them spending time together privately, or if she spoke one word to Nate and someone witnessed it then he would blow their cover.

The hit could have been a crippling one if she actually cared about keeping the secret. It was baffling that Chuck didn't know that she couldn't care less if he told Nate. In fact, if the truth came out, then maybe life would start to make a little bit more sense. Maybe Chuck would finally believe that there was nothing between her and his best friend.

The tersely worded e-mail was the last she'd heard from him. It was odd, especially since she had purposefully been breaking his rules at every possible opportunity.

So why wasn't he retaliating?

It was four days after Christmas when Nate stepped off the plane and back into Blair's confused world. She was shocked and heartbroken that he'd come back alone, but there was also that tiny part of her that was a bit relieved that Chuck had not accompanied him.

It meant she a little more time to prepare herself.

His return was inevitable; she would have to face him and survive the moment his eyes met hers. And then she would have to live past that moment to the next. Every instance that she had to live through where he looked at her and didn't see her truths, the one hidden inside of her heart or the one concealed beneath her still taught stomach, would be a hopeless battle.

A war of indifference she would try to fight, but had no chance to win.

Telling her father had helped ease the burden from her shoulders slightly, but by the time Blair would actually be able to breath deeply again, she may have forgotten how. When she could be free of the secret, when Chuck woke up from his delusions regarding her feelings Nate, she would no longer feel so alone. Maybe when that happened, she wouldn't be.

In the mean time, Nate asked her to attend a New Years Eve party with him and she hadn't seen the harm in accepting. There was no one else currently in town she'd rather go with and the alternative was ringing in the New Year alone with Dorota and a box of Godiva's finest. Chuck was still on an other continent, across an ocean, and the threat of blackmail wasn't really all that scary...

In fact, she was hoping he would react.

Actually, she was more than hoping: she was absolutely desperate for a reaction from him. The silence from his side was making her yearning for something, anything that would show he was paying attention. A sign that she wasn't the only one who was unable to forget.

So caught up in the longing, she decided to launch a preemptive strike in the easiest, most obvious way possible.

When the clock struck midnight to bring in the New Year, she gave her date Nate a quick, friendly peck on the lips. The kind of harmless kiss a girl could give her childhood love without allowing the meaning to be construed as something deeper. Of course, it only took minutes for a picture of that kiss to be plastered across Gossip Girl. Technology would circle the globe and deliver that message to the one person meant to see it.

Except there was still no satisfying result. No angry words or secrets spilled to let her know Chuck paid attention to the blast. No Gossip Girl blast of his own acting as return fire.

Nothing.

She was starting to think she would have to make the attempt to contact him to disentangle herself from the crushing depression of disconnection. Though she knew that she couldn't risk calling him, the thought was ever present in her mind, as were the consequences of giving in to the urge. The silence may be terrifying, but opening herself up to attack again would be suicide. She was coping with her heartbreak little by little and knew it would completely set her back to hear his voice.

But she couldn't stop her attempts at attracting his wrath; it was all a matter of pushing the right button and he would end the communications blackout. He promised to be watching so she was going to do everything in her power to make him keep his word.

Even if all that came was another perfunctory e-mail.

This meant that Blair spent all of her free time with Nate, on Nate's arm. She took every opportunity to be seen with him by the public eye so that Gossip Girl could report their every move. She would smile at him and dote on him and allow him to hold her hand in the hopes that there would be a scathing text message or monotone voice mail.

The disappointment when none came was so heavy it threatened to shatter her.

She was starting to believe that he had he given up. If it were any other boy, it could have been a possibility. Everyone knew that Chuck Bass never admits defeat, but maybe that's because he was clever enough to let his failures fade into to the background or allowed people to forget there was a game in the first place. Maybe she just wasn't as fun to play with as he'd thought she'd be.

Maybe he'd gotten over her and no longer cared what she did.

His absence had turned her thoughts into a never-ending wheel of despair. Coupled with the nightmares she'd been having, she was becoming more and more anxious for Chuck to return. Even if his arrival only brought strife... at least it would bring something to break the cycle she was caught in.

The hell where every thought had an undertone pertaining to the two months since her last period. Where she spent her days longing for the touch of the one responsible.

Something would have to give eventually; if nothing else, he would have to come back for school or his dad or his best friend. Of course, the closer school came, the more she couldn't ignore the worry that he was never coming back.

And that she truly was alone in the bed they'd made.

The week before school started, Blair was on her way over to meet Serena at the Palace. It was dusk, the lights of building casting a dim glow over her as she walked across the courtyard. Just as she was about to open the door, a low, wry drawl came from the shadows. Suddenly the hot ache that had taken residence in her chest since he left was healed by a whiff of his scent as he passed her shoulder.

"Hello to you too, lover." Chuck's tone was a caress, one that gave her goosebumps and sent a luscious chill down her spine. "You're not here to see me?"

Blair's hand fell slowly as she released the door handle and lifted her eyes to his, trying to ignore that brief flash of joy threatening to knock her off balance. As always, his impassive face could attempt to hide the thoughts whirling through his head, but she could read the depths of his emotions through his eyes. At this moment, those eyes were warm, deep pools of churning copper liquid, melted with the inherent heat between them. Blair had only enough time to read her own joy reflected in them before his eyes hardened and cooled into a harsh bronze.

There was anger in them violent enough to make her break eye contact.

When her eyes dropped from his face, she noticed that his suitcase was at his feet. Typical Chuck, stopping for a smoke in the open air where anyone could see before going upstairs. It was probably a fair bet that his father didn't even know he was back yet. And he definitely wouldn't have his bag with him if he'd been to his room already. So he hadn't even seen...

Taking a steadying breath, Blair lifted a her face up, her armor a bored expression to combat his facade of indifference. "I was only here to meet Serena," she stated coolly, "It's not a crime."

One eyebrow lifted toward his hairline. "I'm surprised you have time for her," he replied, his tone stoic as his eyes left hers. He directed the rest of his thought over her shoulder with a halfhearted smirk: "You've been busy."

Her heart lurched in her chest: this was a reaction, a clear-cut sign that he had been watching, that he had noticed her behavior. It didn't matter that it was buried beneath the hardened concrete of the disguise he thought he needed to wear, it was something. Hard evidence of his heartache, something that she could hold onto that wasn't just the mess he'd left in his wake.

She'd been putting herself on display on Nate's arm, waiting for proof from Chuck that he still belonged to her. And now she finally had it.

Stepping forward slightly, Blair took his hand in hers and held it loosely. This action startled him and the flash in his eyes at the touch was the crack in his glossy mask. It was encouraging to see, so she closed her hand tighter, even though the crack quickly mended. All that mattered was it's brief existence and the courage she felt because of it.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you, Chuck." He didn't react, so she breathed deeply, staring steadily into his cold eyes. "I'm sorry that you were gone by the time I came to my senses. Don't forget: I know your heart now, Chuck. You can't fool me into thinking you don't have one anymore. I saw the evidence that I broke it."

He stood stock still the entire time she talked, unblinking, not backing down from the discomfort she knew he felt at being so exposed. Part of her felt for him in his vulnerability; the sight of how much she had hurt, the damage he'd done in the aftershock of heartbreak, wasn't something that would be easily erased from her memory. She wondered if he remembered the sight with as much painstaking detail as she did.

After a moment, Chuck slowly pulled his hand from hers; she watched him clench it at his side before releasing it. "I wasn't playing a game," he pronounced the words precisely, as if they required great concentration and it seemed that he could no longer meet her eyes. "I will tell Nate if you don't stop seeing him."

It was as if she hadn't spoken a word.

She had just apologized more sincerely than she would have thought possible and he was choosing to rewrite the scene, crossing out all her lines.

Feeling just a little bit exasperated, Blair sighed impatiently and spat, "It's so good to have you back Chuck." Then she added sweetly: "I hope you enjoy sleeping in your own bed tonight. And that you find your room just as you left it." Then Blair turned her back on him as fast as she could and strode into the hotel.

She allowed herself one backward glance to see if he'd understood her parting words.

Watching her walk away from him, Chuck was stunned. Not at her audacity or the way that the confrontation he'd been dreading had gone, but at the pure joy he'd felt when she touched his hand. It was like he'd been walking around in a large room in the pitch dark, and that touched had switched on the light. She'd thrown him off with that simple gesture and his resolve started to crumble.

Suddenly he was transported back to his suite that very first morning after and he was again contemplating the necklace with the heart charm. He was again thinking about how he'd never really had a choice in giving her his heart and how one distinct touch had easily made it her possession.

Even a few weeks in Monaco couldn't change the fact that he was in love with her, that he was defenseless when it came to her. She hadn't just broken through his protections or climbed the walls, she'd obliterated them with the tiniest brush of her fingers.

Now he was stuck in this completely screwed up situation, unable to take back what had broken them and unable to move forward.

The blackmail wasn't to torture her as most would think, he was doing it to save his sanity. Seeing the pictures of her and Nate arm in arm all over Gossip Girl was one thing, but hanging out with his best friend and hearing about spending the night with his girlfriend... walking past the courtyard at school to see them connected at the mouth... hearing her laugh at something Nate had said... it was overwhelming. The thought of being there to witness any of those moments when they should have been his was a knife pressing against his gut, just waiting for a little more pressure to puncture the skin.

Chuck wasn't trying to torture her with his threats, he was just trying to survive.

He supposed that he could just tell her that, but it would mean that she had all the power. Even if he knew it was a fact, there was no way he could let her be aware of it. Yes, she'd seen what his pain had driven him to do to his suite before he left. Yes, she knew that he had feelings for her. What she didn't know was that he still did.

And he was going to cling to that last shred of dignity as long as he could; begging her to stop seeing Nate would not help him to maintain it.

So he was going to study her every move closely, let her know that he was always watching, and make her stay way from Nate. It was the only way Chuck could stay sane and get on with living the rest of his life. Keeping her on her toes was one way that he knew to distract her from what was really going on.

Unless, of course, she'd been paying close enough attention to notice his loss of control earlier. The twitch in his stance when his skin met hers was uncontrollable and potentially damaging to his whole strategy. If she detected it and interpreted it for the sign of weakness that it was, then she'd already won.

Throwing down the butt of his forgotten cigarette, Chuck decided to he'd given her a wide enough head start. He grabbed his suitcase and entered the building, striding through the lobby and into the elevator. As he rode upwards, his eyes, his eyes rested on the button that led to Serena's floor, the one that would take him to Blair. His finger hovered over it for the slightest second before depressing the button marked eighteen, which would take him to the floor where he lived.

Once he'd exited the car, he walked down the hallway to reach the door of his home and unlocked the door to let himself in...

The suite still looked like a disaster area.

Looking down at the door, he noticed the 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging on the knob. He'd missed it in his post-Blair daze, but now it's meaning was clear: she'd left the room just as it was for him to see. She'd probably taken pictures of it to cherish or as fuel for her very own blackmail scheme.

His eyes swept the room. There were still clothes were everywhere, the mirror shattered, chairs and bar stools upended and laying on their sides. He noticed with a pang that she'd removed her few things from his room: the change of clothes and shoes in the closet, her toothbrush and hairbrush on the bathroom sink.

All that was left of her was the headband on the nightstand.

Walking closer to the bed due to the item she'd left, he noticed the two, dark splotches; they marred the blue of his pillowcases, but only on the right side of his bed. They were just tiny slashes of charcoal, nothing really, but they were highly noticeable on the expensive material. Little black dashes with darkened areas around them where the material had been damped and then dried.

The realization hit him hard: she hadn't left the room like this so that he could see the damage he'd done or so that he'd be in town when his father discovered the destruction, she'd done it so he'd see that pillowcase. She wanted him to see that she'd spent tears and time crying into it.

Hanging the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door was the only way to keep the sheets from being changed.

Before he knew it, his fingers were brushing the marked pillowcase, smoothing over the evidence that her words from earlier were true. She was sorry that she hurt him and that contrition caused her enough pain to induce these tears.

As soon as he remembered himself, he snatched his hand back. He couldn't let this have power over him; she had so much already and he'd had to flee the country just to take a little of it back. He allow her to cool his anger and turn it into pity for himself or for her. He had to be strong; he had to be impenetrable.

He wasn't allowed to have a heart.

It was partly true: he didn't have one because she owned it. That didn't mean he had to give up the fight, though, if anything, it meant that he had to fight harder to change the truth as she saw it. He had to make her believe that he was his former care-free self, the one that cared for nothing and no one any further than the pleasures they could bring him.

When it came to love, matters of the heart, she would eat him alive if she could. Her knowledge of his feelings shed light on things he preferred hidden... so she had to remain in the dark.

A/N: This has been a long time coming. I hope I made the wait worth it.