TW: sensitive content and discussion of suicide.

Chapter 15

Chuck's alarm blared at 6:02 am signaling it was time to get dressed for the day, and if its annoying chirping wasn't enough to get him moving, Blair's aggressive banging on his door caused him to nearly leap from the bed. If her knocking was any indication, the night had done nothing to dissipate her anger from their argument. Chuck rubbed his eyes and headed into the guest bathroom to splash water on his face. There was no time for a shower because he was not willing to provoke Blair's rage by being even a minute late. He quickly brushed his teeth, dressed, and combed his hair the best he could.

He took one last look in the mirror, noting the bags forming under his eyes and the wrinkles lining his lips. Grogginess and exhaustion defined his features. He didn't sleep more than a few hours the night before, having replayed every one of Blair's words continuously in his mind. Her words hurt, but the look on her face - the resentment in her eyes, the defeat outlined in the crevices of her frown - haunted him every time he closed his eyes. He had been foolish to think he could salvage any part of their former relationship. How she even tolerated his presence in her life, her house, was a mystery to him. When he looked in the mirror all he saw was a worthless, selfish bastard. His only hope for redemption was the legacy he'd unknowingly left behind - his curious, intelligent daughter who, for some reason, saw a hero when she looked at him. It made him feel like a fraud, but it also strengthened his resolve to live up to her expectations. He'd already disappointed Blair; he'd lost her a long time ago, but he could stop himself from making the same mistake twice. He could be the father Cora deserved.

At 6:30 precisely, Blair descended the stairs following her daughter, who took the steps two at a time. Blair's face was set into an expression of unbothered indifference, and she was careful to avoid Chuck's gaze that studied her every movement. Cora, however, ran with arms wide open directly into Chuck's embrace, "I'm so glad you're coming with us, Daddy."

"Me, too," he responded with a wink, as she twirled for him to take in her sky blue dress paired with the Sophia Webster shoes she'd worn to their first meeting. "You look lovely. Are you excited?"

"Oh, I'm so excited," her little smile lit up her entire face. "I've been waiting for this day my entire life."

"Let's go," Blair huffed, trying futilely to suppress her sour mood for her daughter's sake. "Oh, wait, I left my purse upstairs -"

"I'll get it," Cora batted her eyelashes angelically, hitting the stairs before Blair could respond.

When she reached her mother's bedroom, she closed the door softly and grabbed Blair's Lady Dior. She perched herself at her mother's vanity and rifled through the contents of the bag until she pulled out Blair's phone. Scrolling to Louis's name, she tapped out a text message as fast as her small fingers would allow, but she realized that she didn't know how to spell a few of the words correctly. Intent on not causing any unnecessary suspicion, she hit the microphone icon and spoke clearly but quietly: I have a meeting at Cora's school tonight, so you can stay at the consulate. I will see you tomorrow instead. She made sure that the text went through and then promptly deleted it to hide the evidence of her meddling from her mother.

She grinned to herself, pleased with her accomplishment. Before returning to her parents, she found Dorota stripping the guest bedroom of the linens and slipped in behind her. Dorota knelt down to the little girl and said, "Oh, Miss Cora, you look beautiful. You have great first day at school."

Cora nodded politely, and, putting on her best puppy dog expression, replied, "I was thinking, Dorota, Mommy's been so stressed lately, and Louis gets back tonight. Perhaps we should prepare a romantic dinner for them to help Mommy relax?"

"Wonderful idea, Miss Cora," she patted the girl on the head. "Always so thoughtful. I will make preparations."

"Remember the candlelight and music," she called before bouncing back down the stairs, sufficiently satisfied with her fail-proof plan.

She stopped on the landing when neither of her parents looked up at her. They seemed to be caught in a tense discussion, and her curiosity was too strong to resist. She lowered herself between the iron bars on the banister and strained to hear the hushed voices.

"I'm not sorry for what I said," Blair crossed her arms over her chest, "But I'm sorry for how I said it."

"Don't apologize, Blair," Chuck's voice was raspy but even, "You meant what you said, and you needed to get it out. After everything, I -"

"Miss Cora!" Dorota scolded loudly enough for both Chuck and Blair to look up the stairs to find the little girl's eyes trained on them.

Blair was horrified, and Chuck's expression held pure regret. Suddenly, Cora felt intensely guilty, and she didn't know why. She didn't really understand what her parents were talking about, but it was clear that it wasn't meant for her to hear. "I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I just -"

Blair donned a sugary smile and beckoned her daughter to her. "It's fine, darling. I was just apologizing to Chuck for not being a proper hostess last night. I was so tired that I went to bed early."

Cora looked doubtful, but she slowly nodded and handed Blair her purse. The trio entered the elevator shaft, and no words were spoken the entire awkward journey to the lobby.

XOXO

They walked into the school, each holding one of Cora's hands because she had insisted that they provided her with confidence to make it through the first day. Blair led them to a line set up in the lobby to sign each student in and receive necessary materials and paperwork. Chuck looked around anxiously, feeling entirely out of his element surrounded by dozens of parents and children. It was all so new to him, and he felt like an imposter once again. Cora squeezed his hand reassuringly, and when he looked down at her, his eyes caught a somewhat familiar set staring back at him. It took him several moments to recognize the face that the eyes belonged to, and when he finally did, he couldn't pretend he hadn't seen her. The woman from the park was standing directly in front of them holding onto the hand of her son.

He glanced at Blair and back to the woman, before extending his hand courteously, "Liz, right?"

"That's right," she smiled coyly and slipped her hand into his, her eyes cutting to Blair and back. "I didn't catch your name yesterday."

"Chuck Bass," he responded uncomfortably, feeling the heat of both Cora and Blair's glares on their joined hands. He pulled back and cleared his throat, gesturing to the two of them, "This is my daughter, Cora, and this is my, um -"

"Blair Waldorf," she snapped impatiently with a sardonic smirk. "Cora's mother." She reached forward to shake the woman's hand, gripping a little too tightly.

Liz could sense the tension between the two, and the different last names didn't go unnoticed. She was certainly interested in getting to know this handsome, sophisticated man, but she wasn't trying to get entangled in a love triangle. As Blair pulled her hand back, Liz saw the light reflecting off the massive canary yellow diamond on her finger, and she realized that she had made a mistake in assuming that this man was single just because he didn't wear a wedding ring. "Your ring is beautiful," she complimented, hoping to thaw some of the ice emanating from Blair. "Congratulations."

Blair's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Chuck would've found the image comical if it wasn't so insulting that she was outraged that someone would draw that conclusion. Blair quickly shook her head, "Oh, no, no, no," she cleared her throat, "We aren't -"

Chuck furrowed his brows and snarked, "Blair's engaged to a prince. She traded up after I impreg -"

She stomped on his foot as hard as she could, gesturing toward two sets of little eyes focused on the awkward discussion between the adults.

Liz looked back and forth between the two of them wearily and muttered, "Yes, well, perhaps I'll see you around." Mercifully, she had reached the front of the line and could remove herself from the uncomfortable situation that she'd unwittingly found herself in.

Blair narrowed her eyes at Chuck and hissed, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You didn't have to act like it's such an outlandish idea," he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "If I remember correctly, at one point it was all you wanted."

"Oh, so I hurt your delicate feelings," she mocked, rolling her eyes.

"Just saying that it's not a surprise that people think -"

Cora tugged on Blair's arm, "Mommy, it's our turn." She still didn't quite understand their conversation, but she was beginning to sense unresolved hostility between them.

Blair exhaled slowly and smiled down, ignoring the scowl that still rested on Chuck's face. After receiving their paperwork, they were directed into the classroom where they would have a few minutes to meet the teacher before leaving Cora for the day.

Miss Morales was young and energetic, not straight out of college but definitely a fairly recent graduate. She was probably close to their age, maybe a year or two younger. Blair studied her carefully, sizing up her worthiness to educate her young daughter. She would have to research this woman's credentials because she seemed too inexperienced to provide Cora with the quality education that she was funding at a substantial cost.

The teacher's raven-colored hair fell over her shoulders in thick waves, and Blair couldn't help but admire how shiny it was against the overhead lights. She was a beautiful woman, undeniably so, and she commanded the attention of every man in the room. She glanced over at Chuck, positive that he, too, had noticed the woman's above-average attractiveness. She felt uneasy when she saw his eyes linger too long on the woman's curves, outlined tastefully in a knee length pencil skirt. If he tried to bed Cora's teacher, she would castrate him herself, she decided.

When Miss Morales approached them, she immediately recognized Chuck Bass as the real estate mogul from the various articles she helped edit during her internship at the Times when she still thought she wanted to be a journalist. Fate had intervened, and somehow she ended up falling into the field of education instead. She had to divert her eyes before she could thoroughly appreciate the way his expensive suit fit his frame. He was handsome, but she was a professional. She reached out her hand to Blair first and greeted, "Mr. and Mrs. Bass, I presume?"

Blair sighed and muttered, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Chuck could hardly conceal his snicker when he politely corrected her, "No, Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf. We are simply co-parents."

XOXO

Blair's phone chirped in her purse as she and Chuck exited the school building after saying their goodbyes to Cora. She was surprised to find a message from Louis: Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Love you. She checked her previous message to see what he might be responding to. All she had written was that her week had been exhausting. It was a strange response, but she was relieved that he wasn't returning tonight. She knew as soon as he did, she would have to explain everything about Chuck and Cora, and she just didn't have the energy to deal with his reaction. Tomorrow was better; she could prepare for tomorrow.

Chuck's raspy voice from beside her sent a chill down her spine as he pulled her from her thoughts and back to reality. She genuinely hated that his naturally seductive voice still had that effect on her. "Hey," he turned his head toward her as they approached the sidewalk, "I'm really sorry about my behavior in there. It was childish. Let me buy you a cup of coffee."

"I don't know," she sighed, returning her phone to her purse.

"C'mon, Blair," he urged, "We have to talk without it turning awkward or into some kind of argument."

"Okay," she agreed reluctantly. "But it doesn't change anything I said last night."

"I know," he hung his head low, letting her see the shame that he still wore from their argument.

He led her into the small cafe on the corner that they used to visit every Monday morning after waking up wrapped in each other's arms. It hadn't changed much, and the moment they walked through the door, they were transported to a time long past. Chuck approached the counter and glanced at Blair as he ordered two macchiatos – one nonfat, one with an extra shot of espresso. She nodded and rolled her eyes at his smarmy grin when he remembered her typical order.

They took a booth toward the back of the cafe, isolated from the other tables scattered throughout the restaurant. Blair insisted she wanted privacy in case any wandering eyes were around to send word back to Louis, but to the average observer, they looked like a couple, seeking an intimate moment before they start their day apart from one another.

Blair took a tentative sip from her coffee, testing the temperature on her lips lest she burn herself. Chuck watched her intently, mesmerized by the slow swipe of her tongue against the sugary foam clinging to the corner of her mouth. She looked back at him and a light flush spread through her cheeks under the weight of his gaze. "What?" she asked self-consciously.

"Nothing," he looked away, dropping his eyes to his own cup. "You've always done that with your coffee, ever since I've known you. It just felt like we were in another time. That's all."

She blinked for a few minutes and took another sip. "Oh."

"Don't worry," he laughed in an attempt to lessen the tension, "I won't try to lick it off this time." Her eyes widened for a split second before she burst out laughing. It was her first genuine laugh since Chuck's return, and it felt good. He couldn't help but laugh along with her. Before he could censor himself, his eyes softened and he said, "I missed that laugh. You should always be laughing."

Her expression changed, clouds rolled across her features, and she stiffened in her seat. He didn't get to do this. He didn't get to use his charm on her to try and make her forget everything. She wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin and shot, "Well, I haven't had a whole lot to laugh about lately. Haven't really in a couple of years."

"Fair enough." He knew what she meant, and he wasn't willing to agitate her more by rebutting, so he changed the subject, "Can we talk about Cora?"

Her voice felt weak when she asked, "What do you want to talk about, Chuck? Haven't we talked enough?"

"I don't want to cause you any more pain or stress, Blair," he explained cautiously. He could see the weariness marring her beautiful face, and he knew that it was mostly his fault. "But I want to know her story. I will regret missing the first five years of her life for the rest of mine. I want to hear about her from the person who knows - and loves - her the most."

"Everything?"

"Everything, Blair. I need to know," his eyes lightened to that caramel color that usually meant his emotions were growing heavy. "Please."

"It's five years of her life, Chuck," she sighed, his desperation wearing on her, "That's more than a thirty-minute coffee date."

He felt his insides twist at the word 'date', but he didn't dare mention it. It was just a meaningless expression, anyway. "In case you haven't noticed," he smirked at her, "I don't have a girlfriend or a job at the moment, so I've got the time."

"In case you haven't noticed," she returned, narrowing her eyes, "I have a fiancé, a career, and a life."

"We'll do it on your time. Monday mornings like old times? Here, after you drop Cora off each day? I'll create a standing reservation for this exact table. I don't want to impose on your life, Blair; I just want to be a part of my daughter's, and that includes knowing the parts that I wasn't there for."

"Okay," she agreed, a large lump forming in her throat without logical explanation. She checked her watch and offered, "I've got a little bit of time before my morning meeting at the atelier. Where do you want to start?"

"The beginning," he closed his eyes, and admitted, "I know that's asking a lot. I know I'm asking you to relive some not-so-happy memories."

"I'm a big girl, Chuck. I lived through it once. I can talk about it now," her voice was cold, but her eyes were challenging. He could see the Blair he fell in love with - the Blair who is strong, fierce, and smart. She would meet him point-for-point; she didn't need his sympathy.

He nodded, "When did you find out you were pregnant?"

"Late September."

His brows furrowed in confusion, "September? That's months after -"

"After you slept with me hours after sleeping with Jenny and then skipped town, leaving me to think you were dead?" she mocked sarcastically, her right eyebrow quirking higher than the left, "Yeah, I was a little preoccupied to notice my missed period. Stress will do that to a girl."

"Blair, there's something I want you to know about that night -"

"Do we really need to rehash this, Chuck? Can't we just focus on Cora?"

"Blair, please," he lowered his voice, imploring her to listen, "I tried to tell you...I mean, I shouldn't have, but I wanted -" He swallowed hard, trying to figure out the words to explain himself without it sounding like an excuse for inexcusable behavior, "I tried to tell you about Jenny, but I wanted to make up with you so badly that I couldn't find the words. I'm so sorry. I should've never slept with you, especially without protection. I thought you were still on birth control -" He was rambling, and it wasn't coming out the way he wanted it to. Six years later, and he still couldn't say the right words.

She released an exasperated breath and held up her hand to stop him, "I know you tried to tell me, Chuck. I figured that part out a little while after you disappeared, but it doesn't change anything."

"I know. I just wanted you to know, not to alleviate my own guilt but maybe to relieve some of the pain you carry from that night, the pain I caused you."

She tried not to roll her eyes, as if the knowledge that he tried to confess that he had screwed another girl an hour after failing to propose to her could lessen any of her pain. They were at an impasse. She refused to offer him any form of reassurance, so she continued Cora's story. "Anyway, I took seven tests because I didn't believe it at first. I felt so alone and scared. I felt like no one would understand."

He reached for her hand, but he stopped short, dropping his back to the table. "I'm -"

"Please don't," she whispered. "I can't handle another apology from you right now. I just want you to know what I went through, so shut up and listen." He inhaled and nodded as she continued, "I went to the doctor alone, and at first, I wanted to terminate," she said the words so quietly, her head hung low, "But I quickly realized that - God help me - I couldn't." A single tear fell from her eye, trailing down her cheek until it dropped to the table in front of her, "I couldn't because she was the last piece of you I had left."

Their eyes met, and like so many times before, they could read each other's thoughts through facial expressions and body language. His entire being spoke of guilt and regret, and hers communicated nothing but anguish and heartache. Together, they could feel the cruelty of a mutual desire for another time, a wish for a different outcome - for wiser choices and unbroken promises. In another reality, they were sitting here as lovers, maybe even as spouses, discussing their hopes for their daughter's future, reminiscing about the early days of their relationship, and sneaking sweet kisses when no one was looking. The pull was still there, and they could see it in each other's gaze. They both silently acknowledged that no matter what had happened, there was still a thread connecting them to one another. Cora was the tangible proof of their bond, but the real evidence wasn't visible - it was simply felt by the two of them. It only existed to them, and neither one was able or willing to put it into words.

Chuck cleared his throat and turned his attention to the pastry counter. "Would you like a scone? I'm kind of hungry."

"Yes, please. I'm going to the restroom." She was thankful for the break in their conversation. In a way, it was therapeutic to lay it all out to Chuck, but, God, it was draining considering she was still so emotionally depleted from the night before. Opening her purse, she searched out her bottle of Xanax. Her hands were shaky, and her mind was unsettled. She splashed water on her face and washed her hands, carefully scrubbing around her engagement ring. Her mind wandered to a time shortly after her final meeting with Detective Chevalier when he told her that he was convinced that Chuck was dead and that he was officially calling off the search for him.

She sat on the bed in her father's chateau, fresh tear streaks on her cheeks, her stomach tender from the aggressive bout of vomiting that followed her meltdown at the police station. Chuck was dead, along with her hope for the future. She didn't know who she was without him, and she didn't want to find out.

She reached for the nightstand and retrieved the Harry Winston box that Serena had returned to her. She'd only allowed herself to look at the ring once before; it was too painful and she was too weak to think about the what-ifs, but now she was at an all-time low. Nothing could feel worse or hurt more than she already did. All of the possibilities she thought her life held had been ripped away from her. Chuck's story was so tragic, and she couldn't help but blame herself for not being able to save him. She loved him more than it should even be possible to love another person, and the only thing equal to the love that she still felt was the pure agony that crushed her spirit.

She opened the box and slipped the ring onto her finger. Reclining back on her bed, sobs wracking her body, she studied the way the ring fit her flawlessly. He knew her so well; it was exactly what she would have picked out, down to the cut of the diamonds. It was perfect, and it was a waste. It would never see the light of day, never be worn on the finger of a young newlywed hopelessly in love with her husband. It would never be entwined with a wedding band carefully placed on her finger in front of friends and family as he promised himself to her for all eternity. It was simply a piece of expensive metal that held empty promises that would never be fulfilled.

That night, the baby in her womb saved her life because those tiny little kicks were the only thing that made her realize that she could live without him, no matter how hard it was. She had no other choice.

When she returned to the table, a blueberry scone waited for her, and she bit into it without hesitation. She looked up at Chuck and muttered a quiet thank you as they both sat in silence for a few moments while she finished the pastry in several large bites. As she wiped her mouth with a napkin, Chuck asked, "Good?"

"Not as good as yours," she smirked, "But it was delicious."

She wasn't as pale, he had noticed when she sat back down. She must have reapplied make-up in the bathroom, but her eyes were brighter. She seemed to be in better spirits, or she was just faking. He was certain that he would be able to see through her facade, though, and he was sure that her entire demeanor had changed in the few minutes that she was gone. He remembered the bottle of pills that she'd fumbled with the night he learned the truth about Cora, and he wondered if that had something to do with it. Serena had mentioned something about panic attacks, and his face dropped with concern. How long had she been medicating her anxiety? He looked at her bag and saw a prescription bottle sticking out from the open zipper. He nodded toward it and risked the question that could enrage her all over again, "What's that for?"

She glanced down at her purse to see what he was talking about and realized that she hadn't tucked the bottle of Xanax as deep as she thought. At first, she was angry that he was prying into her business, but when she looked back at him, she could see that there was no judgment or pity in his eyes. His features were soft and understanding, concerned without sympathy. It was one of the things she'd always loved about Chuck when they were together. He didn't feel sorry for her. In that moment, she decided she could trust him. She wasn't really sure why, but she didn't fight it. "It's how I cope," she answered. "It's how I get through the dark days. It's how I can be a strong mother for Cora."

"How long?" It wasn't much of a question, but she understood exactly what he was asking.

"A month or so after she was born," she inhaled and looked back at him, gathering her strength, "I was having suicidal thoughts, and I knew I had to get help. Turns out I had postpartum depression. I was able to work through the depression with medication and therapy, so now I'm no longer on a regular antidepressant. These are just for my panic attacks, my darkest days. I don't take them that often, but they help when I need them."

Chuck felt his entire body stiffen and the only sound he could hear was the blood whooshing through his veins to his pounding heart. Blair had been suicidal? He didn't know much about postpartum depression, but he was positive this was his fault. His throat went dry, his vision blurry. He deserved to have such dark thoughts; he didn't even know if he deserved to be alive even now, but Blair? She was vibrant and beautiful, everything that this world needed. She had once saved his life when he teetered on the edge of a building. She convinced him to come down because she had begged "Whatever you want to do to yourself, please don't do that to me." And two years later, he did it to her anyway: he pushed her so far that she didn't see the value in her own life. He thought he hated himself before this moment, but now? Now he wished he had died when that bullet pierced through his abdomen.

He muttered, "I have to go. I'll see you back at your place when Cora gets home from school." Pushing himself up from the table, he exited the restaurant without looking back. He ran around the corner into an abandoned alleyway and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the pavement. Sinking to the ground against the stone wall, he buried his head in his hands and let the tears fall. He never cried, not really - not when Bart died, not when he lost Blair, not when he was shot - but in this moment, there was no controlling the gut-wrenching sobs that he could barely choke out between ragged breaths.

Blair stood to her feet and ran out of the cafe. She'd never seen that look on Chuck's face, not even in his darkest, most vulnerable moments, and she was terrified of what his mind was doing to him. She lied to herself that she didn't care about him or his well-being; she told herself that she was only chasing him down for Cora's sake, but when she reached the street without finding him, panic settled into the pit of her stomach. She reached into her bag and tried to call him, but it went straight to his voicemail. Chuck wasn't stable enough to deal with his feelings; heavy emotions were the cause of every spiral he'd fallen into. Her only thought was that she had to find him; she couldn't let him do that to himself again.

She heard a muffled noise coming from somewhere behind her, and she turned around desperately seeking out the source of the sound. Her heart sped and slowed at the same time when she saw him slumped on the ground. She drew a deep breath, arming herself against the many emotions coursing through her body and approached him quietly. He didn't look up; in fact, he didn't seem to notice her at all. He was clearly lost in deep thought - thoughts that she was certain were busy shaming him for every single sin he'd committed against her since that first night in his limo.

Eight hours earlier, she'd told him how much she hates him, and she really did. She hated him so much, but she couldn't deny that it broke a piece of her to see him so broken. The connection was still there, and she knew, on some level, she would always care about him. So for the first time in six years, she reached over slowly and took his hand in hers. He looked up at her, shock written all over his face, his eyes swollen from the onslaught of tears. She offered him a small smile and squeezed his hand. "You didn't make me suicidal, Chuck," she responded softly, "At least not in the way you think. It wasn't because of how you hurt me; it was because of how much I missed you, how afraid I was of a life without you."

His chin quivered, and he clenched his jaw tightly in an attempt to control it. His eyes closed for a moment as another tear slipped from beneath his lashes. When he looked up at her with raw pain reflecting behind his eyes, she reached out tentatively and wiped his face with the back of her hand – a gesture that was far too compassionate, way more than he deserved. "I'm so sorry," he rasped out.

"I know," she acknowledged, dropping her own head back against the brick. It was the first apology that felt like he actually got it, that he actually understood what he was apologizing for instead of some blanket sorry for all of his wrongdoing over the years. This was a specific apology, and she fully accepted it. It wasn't forgiveness, but maybe acceptance was a step in the right direction.

"You shouldn't be the one comforting me," he sighed.

She shook her head, "Just because you've hurt me doesn't mean you aren't facing your own demons, Chuck."

"I wish I could change -"

"Let's not go there," she stopped him. "Let's just leave it at this. A mutual understanding, empathy even, for Cora's sake. I can't offer anything else."

"Thank you," he husked, standing to his feet and offering his hand to pull her up. "I don't deserve any of this, Blair."

"No, you don't," she agreed with a raise of her eyebrows, "But Cora does, and we agreed that we'll do whatever's in her best interest."

They parted ways without a goodbye, knowing that Chuck would be back at her penthouse within a few hours for Cora's return. They weren't friends, but they weren't enemies, either. It was a small breakthrough, and they both felt like the dark clouds that hung over them were finally clearing out. Brighter days were on the horizon.