Chapter 3

"Blair, what are you doing here?" His voice was understandably filled with surprise at her unexpected presence.

"What are you doing? Is there someone in there?" She questioned skeptically. He was dressed in a robe and slippers, but it was barely past 8 pm. Chuck never removed his suit until the end of the day just before bed; she concluded that he must've given into defeat when he realized she wasn't going to show up for the ultimatum he'd clearly laid out. His typical coping mechanism would be to consume copious amounts of alcohol and hook up with a random call girl to numb his pain for a few hours before reality hit him again. Blair looked past him toward the bedroom door for signs of his characteristic self-destructive tendencies, but his immediate denial distracted her from his initial strange behavior.

"No, nobody," he responded quickly, before walking around her toward the pool table and she turned her attention away from the bedroom to face him. "Excuse my confusion; I didn't expect to see you tonight," he paused momentarily before adding, " or ever again." She held up the bouquet of flowers that she had found left in the trash receptacle atop the Empire State Building. His face slowly softened as realization dawned on him, "You went?" It was more of a statement - a simple observation reflecting his hope - than a question.

"Sorry I was so late," She didn't really owe him an explanation or an apology, but this moment was supposed to be about new beginnings. She had found the will to wholly forgive him, and she made the conscious effort to erase all of the blame that divided them.

"I -" he stuttered, still in awe, "I waited."

"Dorota went into labor. She had her baby," she explained with a sheepish, hopeful grin, "I wasn't going to show up. I was resolved not to. Every bone in my body tried to slow me. Every voice in my head screamed 'Don't.'"

"But?" he questioned impatiently.

"But I didn't listen. I followed my heart because I love you," she placed her hand against his cheek to emphasize the truth behind her words. Overcome with the intensity of his emotions, he grasped her hands and kissed her knuckles. She continued, "I can't deny that our path has been complicated, but in the end, love makes everything simple." It was all he needed - the confession that brought her back into his arms. He crashed his lips roughly against hers, while she wrapped her arms around his back. Their hearts thudded wildly against their chests, and Blair crushed the once-discarded bouquet of peonies against his back in an effort to pull him closer.

He led her to the tall table and offered to make her a drink; she was still reeling from the sudden change of events. She'd tried desperately to convince herself that she would be fine without him, but she'd eventually come to the conclusion that, despite the obstacles they'd faced and the pain they'd caused one another, they belonged together. She believed more in that moment than she ever had that he was her soulmate; they were connected on a level that no one else could understand. She found it endearing when he insisted that they needed music so that the moment would be perfect. Her heart fluttered incessantly against her ribcage, and she just let herself feel. Many would tell her she was wrong for going back to him, for forgiving him so easily, but she had to listen to her heart. She was his and always would be; it was as simple as that. In her state of elation, she'd failed to see that the music and the drink were meant to be a distraction from the dark truth waiting behind closed doors.

After two drinks, Chuck pulled Blair to her feet, whispering against her ear, "Dance with me." She melted into him. It had been nearly two months since she had felt the warmth of his embrace. Her head fell onto his chest and his arms wrapped snugly around her; she thought it felt like home - safe, comfortable, and happy. They would have issues to work out, of course, but that would come in time. For now, it was just him and her, here and now.

Chuck's grip tightened around her, and his back stiffened slightly when "Whatever It Takes" started streaming through the device. It wasn't a song that he particularly liked, and he would typically skip it. The words, though, sliced through the cold tension that still existed between them despite the unspoken forgiveness and hopeful promises that Blair's arrival represented. She listened to the lyrics with new awareness, and she knew that he was once again lost in his mind.

I'll do whatever it takes

To turn this around

I know what's at stake

I know that I've let you down

And if you give me a chance

Believe that I can change

I'll keep us together whatever it takes

"Blair -" he pulled back to look her in the eyes, and something about his expression caused her heart to ache. He looked like he was giving up all over again, and fear crept over her like a dark cloud. His hands slid away from her waist, dropping awkwardly to his sides, and he took a step back. "There's something I need -"

She cut him off by cupping his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his, "It's okay, Chuck. I know you still feel guilty, but I forgive you. It's time we both put our mistakes behind us." She kissed him again, this time more passionately than she had in months. She needed him to understand that she wouldn't hold it against him anymore; he had a clean slate. They would work through their struggles as a team.

Many years later, she would come to the realization that he was trying to make a different confession -one that would cause her even more pain than she could bear - rather than an apology for his inexplicable deal with Jack. At the time, though, her desperate need to be with him trumped her willingness to open raw and bitter wounds, so she never heard the words that he wanted to speak. She stroked his cheek, before trailing her hands to the belt on his robe, and imploring softly, "Make love to me, Chuck. I need to feel you."

XOXO

Blair hated carnivals. Being so close to people who bathed once a week and tried to cover the stench with the equally repulsive odor of discount body sprays caused stress hives to form across her chest in an angry path. She could almost see the germs such poor hygiene produced, desperately clinging to the strands of unkempt hair, ready to pounce onto her meticulously clean form. The thought that she was within arm's length of disease and infestation made her skin crawl. She wanted long gloves, but the summer heat didn't exactly provide the most reasonable climate for such garments.

The cesspool of bacteria and the unsavory crowds characteristic of such events were enough to make her vow to never attend, but it was made even worse by the food that was basically fried fat on a stick and the poorly-constructed thrill rides that barely met the minimum safety standards. Why anyone of sound mind would willinging go on one of the rides was beyond her understanding. It was like playing Russian Roulette with a death trap and calling it fun.

Yet as she wondered how many prison stints most of the carnies had served, she couldn't help but feel a soft warmth spread through her body as she watched Cora's eyes light up in excitement as she impatiently pulled her mother through the crowd toward the mirror maze. Blair might be a little neurotic, but she wasn't ready to let her five-year-old freely touch such unsanitary glass surfaces; fortunately, she had remembered to pack a few pairs of plastic gloves in her Dionysus. She held Cora's hand tightly, doing her best to choke down the anxiety that the mass of people caused.

She would've preferred to stay home or find a much more leisurely pastime, like the theater or the beach, but as soon as Cora had watched the ferris wheel being erected in the Jardin des Tuileries, it was all over. The little girl's whole demeanor changed when she asked Blair if they could attend the funfair; it was as though she came alive for the first time in weeks. After their discussion about Chuck, Cora, though she never said as much to Blair, radiated the type of sadness only found in a fatherless child. Her eyes were empty, her behavior toward Blair indifferent and unaffectionate; she no longer took joy in her favorite toys or games, and she spent more time alone than a five-year-old should. Blair started to grow increasingly worried, and she was starting to consider setting up some type of therapy sessions for her young daughter.

So, when Cora asked to attend the fair, Blair didn't have the heart to refuse.

"Are you having fun, my love?" Blair asked, leading Cora around a group of teenagers so immersed in their phones that they were unaware of anyone around them.

"Yes! Thank you for bringing me, Mommy," Cora offered her mother a small grin, "I know that you didn't want to come, and that it's incredibly dirty, but -"

"I want you to be happy," Blair explained. "If this makes you happy, then it's worth the tetanus booster I will need later."

A soft chuckle emanated from the girl's lips, and she asked, "Will you go into the mirror maze with me? I don't want to go alone."

"Of course, darling, but, honestly, your sense of direction is probably stronger than mine in one of these things. How about you lead, and I'll follow?"

Cora smiled, easily appeased by her mother's compliment. The line to enter the attraction was long and wound through several rows or roped off sections. Blair tried to keep the scowl from her face at having to wait amongst so many unwashed bodies just to enter a makeshift caravan of mirrors. Quietly admonishing her judgmental nature, she forced herself to really take in the attendees, and her heart constricted at what she found. Upon arrival, all she could see was dirt and germs, but now, she saw families, children holding hands with two parents and laughing with siblings. She watched one particular young family heading toward the ferris wheel; the man lifted his young son, whom she noted appeared to be about Cora's age, onto his shoulders before leaning over to place a chaste kiss against his wife's lips. They were quite the vision of love and happiness - everything she had imagined her marriage would be in her younger years.

She could feel it happening; the anxiety attacks approached quickly and cruelly. She couldn't breathe and sweat beaded across her forehead. Her chest tightened, and she felt like her loose-collared shirt was choking her. With shaky hands and blurred vision, she reached into her bag and discreetly pulled out a Xanax and a bottle of water.

Cora pulled nervously on her mother's skirt, concern dotting her innocent face, "Mommy, are you okay? We don't have to -"

Blair squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before willing herself to look at her daughter, "No, I'm fine, darling, just a little overheated. Just give me a moment."

She could feel the earth spinning around her, and she had to brace herself against the ropes to keep from falling over. Drawing on the breathing techniques that she relied on to cope with her crippling anxiety, she was able to slow her heart rate to a normal speed. Her eyes focused intently on Cora, taking in the little girl and blocking out the world around her. By the time they made it to the front of the line, she had calmed herself enough to enter the maze without triggering another bout of panic.

Blair carefully placed the plastic gloves on both of their hands, and led her daughter into the maze. Cora giggled when she saw dozens of her own images staring back at her, causing Blair to smile at the sight of her daughter taking pleasure in simply being a child. Before Blair could stop her, Cora dashed to the left, dodging the many strangers who were also working their way through the optical illusion. Blair tried to rein in her over-protective nature and allow her to explore, but as she watched the reflected image of her daughter get lost in the throng of people, she felt a renewed sense of panic.

"Cora?" she called out into the maze, "Stay right there and wait on Mommy."

There was no answer. She pushed past a man, crouched down in a position to trick his toddler into running in the wrong direction and nearly toppled over the little boy before continuing her frenzied search.

"Cora?" she yelled out again, fear evident in her desperate voice. Several mirrors down, she saw a mess of chocolate curls adorned with a red ribbon. She would recognize the bow anywhere. "Cora!" she called louder, slightly relieved that she could at least see the girl.

Her voice was no match for the chatter echoing throughout the overcrowded maze, though, and she lost sight of her once again. She shoved her way impatiently past people to be met with huffs, insults, and a few frustrated elbow jabs, but she ignored them all. Within a few moments, she reached the end of the maze without finding Cora.

One grouchy man snarled at Blair, and growled, "If you're claustrophobic, get the hell out of everybody else's way. You're holding up the line."

She glared at him for half a second, and glanced back into the crowded maze, but she couldn't see Cora anywhere among the taller bodies. She took a chance and exited the attraction. Just as she was about to approach the attendant with a desperate plea to put out a BOLO for her missing child, she heard the most glorious sound that had ever graced her ears. "Mommy!" a little voice called. "There she is!"

Blair turned to see her daughter running straight toward her, tears streaming down her face. The little girl wrapped her arms tightly around her mother's legs, and Blair leaned down to scoop her into her arms. She stroked her hair and shushed her with gentle kisses. "It's okay, sweetheart," Blair soothed, "I'm here."

Cora sniffled and pulled back, "I thought I lost you forever, Mommy."

"Oh, baby," Blair offered her a soft smile and wiped the tears from her face, "Mommy would never let that happen."

A blonde woman appeared by their side and clasped her hand over heart, "Oh, Cora, I told you we would find her."

Blair looked up to find Eva starting down at them, her cheeks reddened from the excitement of the moment. Cora explained, "Eva helped me find you, Mommy. I was so scared until I saw her."

"Thank you," Blair whispered softly, forcing back her own tears as she stood to her feet.

"Oh, please," Eva smiled kindly, "Cora helped me because I got separated from my boyfriend in there, too," she patted the child's head, and added, "In fact, I better go find him before he thinks I've disappeared."

After once again offering Eva her sincere gratitude, Blair turned back to Cora and asked sternly but gently, "Why did you run off from me? I've taught you how important it is to stay right with Mommy."

Cora's eyes filled once again with tears, and this time she didn't stop them from falling. She didn't care about propriety at that moment. Her emotions were too powerful for her to control. "I -" she stammered, and paused for a long moment, considering whether she should actually speak the truth aloud. With a whisper so quiet Blair barely understood her, she confessed, "I thought I saw my daddy in there."

This was the moment Blair had feared the most when she agreed to tell Cora the truth. As intelligent and mature as her daughter was, she was still a child without a father. When weeks had passed without Cora "seeing" Chuck in every store, through every car window, and on every street corner, she had foolishly thought that maybe it was a good sign that Cora would bypass the haunting images of an imaginary man that had plagued Blair for years after his disappearance. If she were honest, on days when she was too exhausted to think or nights when she never went to sleep, she would still see him. He stood behind her when she kissed Cora goodnight; he sank into the bed beside her and whispered 'Goodnight, Waldorf.' When she closed her eyes, she could feel his breath tickle her neck and his lips press softly against her shoulder. He was always there, whether she acknowledged him or not.

Now, though, she had a little girl seeing ghosts, seeing images that her mind created and convinced herself that they were reality. Blair felt a lump form in her throat, as she ran through the pros and cons of scheduling an appointment with a child psychiatrist for her daughter. She shook her head as her thoughts ran so quickly she couldn't keep up and made a mental note to discuss the possibility with her own therapist.

She leaned down and grasped Cora's shoulders. "Cora, you didn't see your daddy," she explained firmly with a newfound terror and desperation hidden behind her eyes, "You must know that. No one has seen him in years. He's not at a random funfair; he's not in Paris. Darling, you can't do this to yourself. You can't get your hopes up like that."

The little girl nodded sadly and turned away from her mother, tears still glinting in her brown eyes. She dropped her head and said, "I want to go home now, Mommy. I'm through with the carnival."