Chapter 7

The day that Chuck Bass ceased to exist was the saddest day of his life because it meant that he had to let go of Blair Waldorf for good. She'd been everything to him for as long as he could remember, but when it came time to prove that truth to her, he'd failed time and time again.

He dealt with the shame as he always did: filling his time with illicit drugs, expensive alcohol, and sexual encounters with women he knew little about. When he saw the hell that he put Blair through - the pain that would likely scar her forever - the only merciful thing he could think to do was leave the country, give her some space without him there as a constant reminder of the turmoil. She owned New York, and he should've been banished alongside Jenny for his crimes against her. He didn't deserve to breathe the same air as her. If he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure that he deserved to be breathing at all. He was an irredeemable failure, and everyone he knew would be better off without him in their lives. All he did was bring heartache and destruction.

Somehow he ended up in Perlovka; he couldn't even recall how he got there. By the time he was wandering the streets, soliciting prostitutes and stumbling down sketchy alleyways, he'd already had a dangerous mixture of hardcore drugs in his system for well over 72 hours. The harsh combination of liquor and narcotics should've been enough to kill him, and truthfully, he was disappointed when it hadn't. Excess was his way of coping when he couldn't handle the cruel reality of life, but what was he to do when he didn't even care to try and cope any longer?

The drugs were supposed to numb the pain, but the alcohol was meant to help him forget - even if only for a few hours. Over the past few years, he'd found that relying on his favorite memories of her - her laughter, her smell, her sighs in the throes of ecstasy - helped him keep the darkness at bay until he could wrap his arms around her and know that everything would be alright. Now, though, the only memory of her tattooed into his mind was the numerous images of the anguish he'd caused her – her tear-streaked face discovering each of his worst betrayals. He couldn't shake the image from his mind no matter how much he indulged in Prague's most sinful offerings.

When the muggers approached him - one holding his arms behind his back, the other searching his pockets for valuables - Chuck wasn't nervous. His drug-addled, despondent state of mind left him indifferent to his own well-being, and he didn't have the emotional capacity left to care what the thieves did to him. He tried to offer them money because at that point, money was worthless outside of funding his bender.

He didn't feel true panic until one of the muggers fumbled with the Harry Winston box resting inside his coat pocket. The 8-carat engagement ring was the only piece that he had left of Blair, of her love and the unmatched happiness that he had felt with her. "Not that, not that," he pleaded. "Just let me keep the box. Just take me to a bank, and I will give you the money."

His frustration grew as the thieves wouldn't listen to him, and he desperately fought to recover the ring. "Just let me keep the box!" he yelled aloud right before a sharp pain ripped through his abdomen and the world went black.

He awoke to a petite figure pulling him to his feet and wrapping small arms around his waist. "You have to walk," he vaguely heard from the unknown stranger, "I can't carry you."

His entire body was flooded with excruciating pain, and he wordlessly implored his savior to leave him to die. She was insistent and relentless in her movements, though, and he found himself acquiescing to her demands as best he could. He limped doggedly in the direction that she tried to guide him. He stumbled and fell back to the ground a few times, but eventually she opened a door and pushed him roughly toward a small bed.

He teetered in and out of consciousness, but he'd never felt anything as physically tormenting as the searing pain of alcohol poured on a fresh bullet wound. He cried out in agony, and his brain considered the torture to be a sort of penance for the hurt he'd caused every single person in his life since the day he was born.

"Get away from my little sister!" Dan's hand connected with his face as Jenny ran to Serena in tears.

"Chuck! Get off of me!" Serena kneed him in the groin to escape his assault.

"Did you sleep with her?" Nate held his lapels, anger blazing in his eyes.

A sharp slap stung his cheek, and it was suddenly Blair's hand punishing him for his betrayal.

Dan punched him for a second time, knocking him to the ground, and Blair screamed, "Don't say her name!"

They say that in a particularly intense moment of fear, your life might flash before your eyes. For Chuck, all he saw was the devastation that he caused to people who didn't deserve it. The sad truth was that other people suffered by simply crossing his path. He was nothing but a curse.

When he awoke hours later, his blurry eyes found a beautiful blonde angel staring back at him. In confusion, he stuttered, "Wh-where am I?"

"You're safe," she assured him. He felt a stinging pain in his lower abdomen, and everything came flooding back to him - Jenny, Blair, the mugging. She urged gently, "Who are you? What's your name?"

It was at that moment that he decided the man named Chuck Bass no longer existed. He worked his signature CB ring from his pinky finger and searched the room for any inspiration for a new moniker. His eyes landed on several books and he answered quickly, "Henry…Henry Prince."

For all the world knew, Chuck Bass died the death he deserved - that of a lonely man in a dark alleyway at the hands of two low life thieves.

XOXO

Chuck paced back and forth across the small kitchen, running his hands through his hair. He'd known coming to Paris was a bad idea. There was too much history there, too big of a risk of being recognized. He'd been so careful over the years, and he thought the world had all but given up on searching for him. Eva was so excited when she found the small Parisian bakery for sale in a price range that they could afford, and he couldn't come up with a valid excuse to not give it a shot. She'd practically changed her entire life for him after she found him half dead in Prague, and he had to give her this - it had been her lifelong dream. She deserved more; she deserved everything, so he couldn't deny her when she begged him to move to Paris.

He had convinced himself that the pastry shop was far enough off the beaten path, far enough from the more bustling parts of the city that no one would recognize him. The chances were so small, but the possibility was still there. He could've never prepared himself for that moment though - the moment that he looked up and saw his past staring directly at him through a dirty window.

For a moment, he was certain that he was seeing things. For a few years following his departure from Manhattan, he saw her. He saw her everywhere he went - she sat across from him on the train, she served him tea at lunch, she even cut his hair at the barber once. The worst was when he was making love to Eva and he would see her face instead. It was wrong and disturbing, but he didn't know how to stop. Honestly, he didn't know if he wanted it to stop because it was all he had left of her. When he showered, he could still smell her lavender shampoo as if he was still massaging it into her scalp. Eva thought that he had nightmares about the mugging because he would wake up in a cold sweat regularly for months following the incident, but most of the time his dreams were filled with her smile, her soft "I love yous" followed by her blood-curdling scream as she was ripped away from him by some unseen force.

When he got a new cell phone after he recovered, he didn't subscribe to Gossip Girl notifications and blocked the site from his phone. He actively avoided all American newspapers and journals because he knew that if she was in trouble his resolve would weaken, and he would make a terrible mistake. He told Eva that the news reminded him too much of the pain he suffered when he was still living in the United States, and he would like to avoid reading it at all costs. He explained that he didn't like social media for the same reason. When she admitted that she would like to include a picture of the two of them on her Instagram account, he apologized and told her that there were too many people who hurt him in the past that he didn't want to find him. She knew that he had experienced something really painful his life, so she didn't push the subject further.

Eva didn't drink often, so Chuck found it quite easy to quit, too. He stopped doing drugs, but he really missed weed. He wanted to be a better person than he used to be, and he followed her lead in discovering what that meant. When she told him that he was a good man, it felt like the best compliment he'd ever received. But it also felt like a lie, and he found that he never actually believed her when she praised him. He couldn't help but compare it to the way that Blair had built him up; she never sugar-coated anything, but she still made him feel capable of conquering the world. She believed in him, and that was the only reason that he believed in himself. In the end, it wasn't enough, though; he wasn't enough.

He and Eva didn't argue; on the surface, they seemed to be the perfect couple. He catered to her every whim, but she was so soft and easy that she never asked for much. It was nice and simple, but it was empty. He was empty. He felt like he was living in some form of a purgatory where he was no longer punished for the sins of his past but he would never truly find happiness either. It made him feel so guilty because Eva was the kindest woman he'd ever met. He wasn't worthy of her, but she thought he was. She treated him like royalty.

One particularly dark night, he gave into his basest desires, and he left Eva sleeping in their small bed. He headed to the nearest bar and ordered a scotch, and then another and another. This continued until he was intoxicated to the point that he forgot he was supposed to be Henry Prince. He was Chuck Bass again, if just for a moment. He missed Blair. It had been two years, and he missed her so damn much that he couldn't breathe.

He opened his phone and typed "Gossip Girl" into the web browser, feeling frustrated when he couldn't find the site. Several moments later, he remembered that he had blacklisted it. He opened the Incognito browser and repeated his search. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was a reckless move, and it would undo years of progress. Once he opened the website, he was surprised to find that the entire layout had changed, and it took him a moment to figure out how to navigate the new design. He eventually found a search bar, and he clumsily tapped out "Blair Waldorf."

The first photo that appeared showed her trying on a formal gown at Bergdorf. She looked radiant, and his heart constricted in his chest. A lump formed in his throat, and he took a screenshot to hide in a secret folder that Eva could never know about. The dress hugged her every curve, and he longed to unzip it to see what tantalizing lingerie she wore underneath. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail that he rarely saw her wear, and her exposed neck beckoned to him to taste her. He felt himself growing embarrassingly aroused from a candid photo, so he quickly scrolled away to the next post.

He nearly dropped his phone when he read the next headline: Blair Reunites with Her White Knight After Dark Prince's Departure. His mouth fell open, and he felt anger surge through his veins as he stared at the image of Nate enveloping Blair in his arms, shielding her face from the onslaught of paparazzi. He kissed her forehead, and she snuggled closely into his embrace. Chuck smashed his phone so hard against the bar top that the screen shattered, and he ordered another drink. "Make it strong," he commanded roughly.

That night, he did something incredibly shameful, only serving to remind himself that he wasn't the upstanding man he pretended to be when he was with Eva. He stumbled into a brothel and found a petite, brunette prostitute. He held up a wad of cash - the cash he and Eva had saved for moving expenses - and he declared arrogantly, "I'll pay double if you let me call you Blair."

He bought Eva flowers the next day, and she pondered aloud how she'd gotten so lucky to find a man like him. He realized then that he was a piece of shit, no matter what name he went by.

Now, that realization hit him hard because his first instinct was to run, to leave the life that he had built with Eva and get the hell out of Paris. He couldn't face his past; he'd finally, after years of torment, found peace. He wasn't a rich man anymore; he wasn't an alcoholic or a drug addict. He was a simple man living a simple life. He didn't have an epic love story, but he had a good and faithful woman. He felt like he was standing at a crossroad and both directions were unpredictable and dangerous.

He had stayed long enough to hear the paramedics say that she would be fine, and she only needed to go to the hospital as a precaution. He had to know that she was okay, so he eavesdropped from the kitchen; he propped the door open with a chair and slumped against an interior wall to avoid being seen by anyone else. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard that she wasn't in any real danger because for a moment he thought that he was once again responsible for her suffering.

XOXO

"We have to leave," Blair declared as she and Serena entered Harold's chateau after the doctor released her with a warning to watch her food consumption when she took her medication. "Immediately."

"What?" Serena's jaw dropped.

"I can't risk seeing him again," Blair nearly screeched, "I can't risk Cora seeing him. We leave for New York tonight."

Serena saw the resolve written in her eyes, and she knew that there was no convincing her otherwise. With a sigh, she said, "Let me take Cora to the park. She's confused and she doesn't understand what's happening. Let her have some fun, and it'll give you some time to pack and get your thoughts together without her questioning your every move. God knows she's the most observant child I've ever met."

Blair agreed reluctantly but not without warning, "Don't say a word to her about him, Serena. Not a word."

Serena nodded, trying to suppress the irritation that Blair would even consider the possibility that she could be so dense as to bring up Chuck to Cora now, "Of course not, B. We'll talk about princesses and unicorns. No discussion of resurrected fathers will take place, I promise."

Blair entered her daughter's room quietly, and Cora immediately shot up from her bed and ran to her mother. "Mommy, you scared me!"

"I know, darling," Blair soothed, running her hand over Cora's head, "I'm so sorry. Mommy's fine, though."

"I don't know what I would do without you," the small child whispered softly, unshed tears shining in her eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart," Blair lowered herself to the ground in front of her, "You don't have to worry about that. Mommy's not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Blair forced a smile, "Listen, Aunt Serena felt bad that we never made it to the park, so she wants to take you now. Does that sound good?"

"Oh, yes!" Cora squealed in excitement, her earlier anxiety forgotten.

"She's in the foyer waiting for you," Blair hugged her one last time and sent her on her way.

After they left, Blair made her way into her bedroom and pulled out her oversized suitcase. She hadn't quite accomplished all that she needed to in Paris, but she had to protect her daughter at all costs, no matter what that meant for Waldorf Designs.

She hadn't given herself time to consider what Chuck's appearance meant; she was an expert at compartmentalizing her emotions, and she tucked her anxiety in the very back of her mind. Tasks - like packing her closet in the most organized fashion possible - kept her focused and kept her thoughts from wandering to dangerous territory. Emotions were a weakness; any reaction right now would be a weakness. She had spent years becoming a strong and powerful force, and she wasn't going to let this derail her.

She was also excellent at lying to herself, and she knew it. She had to give herself time to fall apart - to grieve, to be hurt, to feel angry - but right now, she had no choice but to prepare to leave the country as soon as possible. There was no other option that didn't risk exposing Cora to a harsh reality that she wouldn't be able to handle.

A sudden loud chiming of the front doorbell startled her from her thoughts. She sighed, in no mood for company. Her father was still out of town, and she had sent the maid, Amelie, home the moment that she and Serena had arrived from the hospital. She slumped onto the bed at the second chime, hoping that whoever it was would give up and leave. Unfortunately, the unknown visitor was impatient and insistent, and a third chime rang throughout the large home.

With a dramatic groan, she made her way down the stairs and swung open the door in frustration without checking the cameras. "What?" she screeched in clear irritation.

Her eyes widened at the figure in front of her, and she felt sweat bead on the back of her neck as her heart thudded wildly against her chest. No, no. He can't do this.

"Blair," the soft rasp of a familiar voice cut into her ears. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, unmoving, shoulders slumped forward. His shaggy hair fell over his forehead in disarray, and he lowered his gaze to his feet, unable to meet her eyes. "I -"

She shook her head vigorously, tears brimming in her eyes, her chin quivering with uncontrolled emotions. She felt dizzy, as though all of the oxygen had been immediately sucked from her lungs. "No, no," she whispered, backing away from him, "You can't be here."

"Blair, please," he took a tentative step forward and reached a hand toward her, but he dropped it when she flinched before he actually touched her.

"I can't do this," her voice was so quiet that he could barely make out her words. A thousand shards of glass pierced her chest, and the pain was nearly unbearable. "Please just leave."

"Blair, just -" he didn't know what to say to her; there were no words that could possibly justify his actions to her, "Just let me -"

"No!" her voice grew louder; the sadness dissipated and rage took over. He'd let her believe that he was dead, leaving her to suffer crippling anxiety for years. This was his fault, and she wouldn't dare listen to what he has to say. "Leave me alone!" she screamed. She watched his eyes fall in defeat, and she lowered her voice in a desperate plea, "Please, Chuck. Please go."

Hearing his given name spoken aloud, from her lips, for the first time in six years sent a jolt of panic and terror through him. He shouldn't have come here; he had no business trying to explain anything to her. She didn't owe him an audience, and he was only causing more pain by being there. He would always hurt her; it's just who he was. He lowered his head and muttered, "I'm sorry."

He turned to leave, shame weighing heavily on his shoulders once again.

"Chuck, wait -"

He stopped in his tracks but didn't turn back around to face her again. He couldn't stand seeing the devastation on her beautiful face. It was like reliving his worst nightmare all over again.

"Why'd you do it, Chuck?" she choked out before she could stop herself.

"For you. Because you deserved better," he answered truthfully and walked off before she could respond, quickly climbing into the car parked at the end of the drive.

A gut-wrenching sob escaped Blair's mouth, and she sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself as she cried more forcefully than she had in years. She was broken to an irreparable degree, but she wouldn't let her daughter suffer the same fate. Cora would never know the man who'd caused her so much anguish; she would protect her at all costs.

Many ghosts resided in New York, but the cruelest of them all now lived in Paris. She resolved to do all she could to make sure he stayed buried in her past.

A/N: So I felt bad for leaving you guys hanging on the last two chapters, so I worked hard to try to get this update out. It was honestly a little difficult trying to convey their emotions here, so I hope I did it justice. Eva is a factor in this story, and she's good to Chuck, but I want it to be clear that she will never be a replacement for Blair.