A/N: I want to start off by saying that you all had really strong reactions to the last chapter. LOL This story is definitely full of angst, and I imagine it's hard to read at times. I'm angry at Serena and Nate, too, but you have to remember that Chuck and Blair are both victims here. Their reactions to each other may seem cruel or unfair, but they are mostly controlled by their hurt emotions at this point.

I understand that this story may not be for some of you, and that's perfectly okay. There are some stories that are too much for me, and I can't read them. Skipping this one is understandable if you're not really into angst.

For those of you who've enjoyed this story so far and have trusted me with the process, thank you. This chapter is a bit of a turning point for Chuck and Blair, so I look forward to hearing your thoughts. :)

Chapter 8

He hung his head low, hands buried deep in his pockets as the rain pelted down around him, coloring the sidewalk with deep shades of slate gray. When he'd exited the restaurant, a low rumble of thunder offered him a warning about the imminent storm brewing in the distance, but he couldn't face her for another minute – and dragging Caroline away from the table would've surely yielded an even more awkward interaction than had already transpired.

He thought he'd put the past behind him, but nothing tonight had felt right. Watching Blair fumble her way to the restroom after spilling her wine, seeing her eyes glistening with tears she refused to let fall, sensing the tension in her muscles any time his engagement was brought into the conversation – all of it felt like an invisible force had a tight grip around his throat, squeezing harder with each of her emotional responses.

She had tried to hide herself from him, of course, but he knew her. Even if he wished he couldn't, he could read her body language and hear the subtle change in her inflection. He could tell when she would start to choke up or when she would try to convert her pain to anger or sarcasm. Somehow, he felt like he was a man torn in two – like he was supposed to sit on both sides of the table and support both of these women. He had to consciously remind himself that he owed that part of himself to Caroline, but not to Blair – not anymore.

There were knots of guilt resting heavy in his stomach. He'd hoped that she would do something to piss him off – something to spur his anger so that he could suppress the small part of himself that was still bound to her. Lashing out over her smug comment about veal was undoubtedly his last ditch effort to redirect all of the emotions coiling inside of him to something more useful than sadness and guilt. He had needed her to make him angry, but instead, when she mentioned the last time they'd interacted, it felt like she'd stabbed him straight through the heart with her steak knife.

He wasn't angry about getting caught in a lie with Caroline, which he was certain had been Blair's motive in mentioning their meeting in the park. He was confused, conflicted, and hurt. At the time, he'd felt like that random meeting was their final do-over, their chance to right all of their wrongs. He'd tried to be careful about making promises to her that he knew he might not be able to keep, but he couldn't stop himself from insinuating that there was still hope for them even after so much had passed between them. He had left her penthouse that day, more sure than ever that they would eventually find their way back to each other.

That night had been so bittersweet that every moan and whimper were tattooed on his memory to be randomly replayed at the most inconvenient times. Like now, when he should be finding a way to wash his hands of his past with Blair and move on with Caroline, all he can remember is the way she made him feel that night.

She smiled sweetly over her shoulder as she pulled him by the hand into her bedroom, biting her lip with a mixture of playful flirtation and uncharacteristic shyness. He kicked the door closed behind him, his heart beating an unrecognizable rhythm against his rib cage.

He knew he probably shouldn't be doing this; it was completely reckless to let Blair back in weeks before he moved to the other side of the country. He'd been angry for so long, tried so hard to move forward, convincing himself that they weren't good for each other – that he wasn't good enough for her, and that's why she'd left him time and time again. But, now, when she looked at him through dark lashes with so much affection and tenderness, he couldn't understand how he could've possibly shut her out for so long.

Logically, he knew this was a mistake, but, God, he couldn't bring himself to care about anything except being with her after so long. Nothing ever felt as right as having her in his arms, so he ignored the warning bells and just allowed himself to feel. He would deal with any repercussions later.

His fingers trembled as they lifted her blouse slowly over her head, letting it flutter to the ground next to her bed. He refused to rush through this, instead taking his time reacquainting himself with every inch of her body – every divot, every freckle, the arch of her back and the tiny white scar on her hip bone. By the time they were both undressed, he'd lost all sense of time.

"You're perfect," he whispered as she curled her arms around his neck and pulled him to the bed. There was another, more intimate confession trapped in his throat, but they both knew that the silence didn't mean that those unspeakable words weren't true; it just meant that it wasn't the right time to say them yet. As he'd once told her, timing had never been their strong suit, but it seemed that, now, that could finally change as long as they could hold out hope just a little longer.

Shaking his head free of those memories, he stopped in front of the building that housed the apartment he'd recently purchased with Caroline. She'd insisted that they needed a place that was just theirs, that there were too many memories associated with the Empire. He'd agreed with her, mostly because it felt strange hanging another woman's clothes in his closet and toiletries in his bathroom. She had been right that they needed a fresh start away from all of the history tied to his hotel, so when they found this place, they jumped on it. He'd left her in charge of decorating and any renovations, but, even after months of living together, he still didn't quite feel at home in their penthouse. He figured it would take some time to adjust; he'd spent the better part of his life as a bachelor and learning to share a space was never easy. He'd made note of a few changes he'd like to make, but he had yet to get around to making arrangements with the contractor. For this reason, he only stayed with Caroline a few nights a week, instead opting to keep his penthouse as his primary residence for a while longer. Whenever Caroline brought it up, he brushed her off and told her that sometimes he needed his own space, and he liked his office at the Empire. She didn't push the issue, but he had to admit that she had a point when she explained that having separate residences wouldn't be an option when they were married.

Drenched strands of his hair stuck to his forehead as he stared up at the building, contemplating his next move. Caroline would surely be home shortly, but he wasn't ready to face her or the inevitable topic of their dinner with Blair. With a deep sigh of frustration, he shoved his hands back into his pockets and continued down the street, aimlessly wandering past the building he was supposed to call home.

His mind drifted back to the morning after his final conversation with Blair, the moment he knew that she would wait for him. He'd replayed the moment in his head for months after the fact, but he could never make sense of what could've happened to make her abandon him without a word.

She sighed, settling back into his chest while he massaged shampoo into her scalp in slow, sensual circles. "I wish we could spend the whole day like this."

He watched the suds trail down the slope of her neck to disappear into the warm water surrounding their bodies. He rinsed her hair of the shampoo and tilted her head to the side to kiss her gently. "I'd love nothing more than to stay in this tub with you and forget everything else, but unfortunately I've got back-to-back meetings about my transfer that I can't miss."

She hesitated, waiting for the disappointment to subside before she asked, "Can I see you again before your move?"

"I don't think that's the best idea," he spoke softly, wishing with everything in him that he could give her a different answer. He could see the hurt flicker across her eyes as he helped her stand from the tub and wrapped a large fluffy towel around her shoulders. He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head underneath his chin. "It's not that I don't want to."

"I understand," her voice broke. "But I want to be here for you."

He tilted her chin up with his forefinger so that she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "There's nothing I want more than to forget about the rest of the world and –" He left the words hanging in the air, hoping that she could infer the rest of his sentiment. He chose his words so carefully, knowing that she would hang on to every word. "But before I can even think about…before I can promise you anything, I have to make sure that everything's squared away with Bass Industries and my father's treatment."

She nodded, sniffling lightly as a tear fell from her eye.

"Hey," he murmured, wiping away the tears streaming down her cheek. "The only way this'll ever work is if we're both on the same page. I have to stay focused right now."

"Why does it feel like we've had this same conversation before?" Her lips trembled beneath the weight of her sobs. "It's always just out of reach."

"Look at it this way: two days ago, we weren't even a part of each other's lives anymore. Now we've got 'Maybe' and 'Some day' on our side."

"It's not enough." She gulped, swallowing back the tantrum she wanted to throw at just how unfair it all was.

"I know," he agreed solemnly. "But it's all I can offer you right now."

"I'm not ready for goodbye," she sniffled against his chest, holding onto him as if her grasp around his waist would be strong enough to anchor her to him for eternity. "Not now, not when we just found our way back."

"This time," he pressed his lips to her temple, running a soothing path along her spine with his fingers, "It's temporary. I can't predict what's to come, but I promise that you'll always have a place in my life. It's just going to take a little time to figure out what that means. We've got some work to do…some things we need to talk through, but –"

She smiled through her tears, pushing up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. "Promise you won't find a West Coast Barbie to replace me while you're in California?"

He chuckled, pressing his lips to hers. "I don't want anyone else, Blair."

And in the moment, he'd meant it. He'd forgotten all about his proposition to Caroline twelve hours earlier, and when he left the building and read her text accepting his date, he didn't respond for several days. He knew that he'd hurt her with his silence, but his encounter with Blair had complicated things exponentially.

Most days, he tried to push memories of those conversations from his mind because it left him full of resentment, but the worst part was the never-ending questions that remained unanswered. Blair'd been so sincere; he'd had no doubt that she was being honest when she told him that she would always be there for him.

So what changed? What happened in the three weeks between that encounter and Bart's death that had caused her to abandon him?

At dinner tonight, her eyes had been wild at the mention of Bart's death – like there was something she wanted to say but didn't know how to. The tone with which she'd called his name was full of desperation, but he had tried to convince himself that it was guilt instead. None of it made any sense.

Despite all of their arguments over the years, he'd never once doubted that she would be there for him. His senior year after Bart's 'death,' he'd done everything possible to push her away, but she refused to give up on him - no matter how much he deserved it. She held him, loved him when no one else in the world did, and then she saved him after he humiliated her. She understood him in a way that no one else ever has - not Nate, not Bart, not Caroline. There was a dark side to him that only she could uncover because she was the only person who'd ever fully witnessed it and still accepted him for who he is in spite of it.

When Caroline showed up at his door after Bart's real funeral, he mourned the fact that she wasn't Blair. He was torn between two emotions of hatred and heartbreak. He couldn't come to terms with the fact that Blair would desert him at that moment, not after their night together. If Caroline hadn't convinced him to board a plane with her back to Los Angeles, then he would've probably found himself camped out on Blair's doorstep like a pathetic lost puppy. In many ways, Caroline became his rock, the barrier that kept him from falling back on old habits.

It scared him how close he had been to returning to his self-destructive ways, to letting Blair dictate his behavior and his mood. He'd overcome all of those urges years earlier, but he hadn't felt that level of pain since he'd lost Blair for good. This time, it was like he buried Bart, his future with Blair, and his sanity in the same grave. If it hadn't been for Caroline, Bass Industries would've become his life – and he would bet his inheritance that he would've become his father: cold, calculated, and alone.

He'd never expected to fall in love again after Blair. In fact, after years of tumult, he had no desire to ever enter into another serious relationship. He wanted to credit Caroline with showing him that love didn't have to be painful and that they didn't have to play games to keep things interesting, but, deep down, he knew that that was unfair to Blair. They'd been so young when they first gave their relationship a shot, but, even then, she'd been an incredible partner. She'd taught him all of the things that he'd only recently learned to apply. Blair had given him all of herself, and he destroyed it.

He blamed himself wholly for that disaster, but it was the two years that came after that that had broken him. He couldn't say that he completely blamed her, but their continuous back and forth, the broken hearts and broken promises should've been proof enough that love wasn't enough. They weren't good for each other.

With Caroline, it was different. Whenever they argued, he never felt like they were on the brink of breaking up. Perhaps that was maturity that came with age and experience, but perhaps part of it was the nature of their love for each other. It had developed slowly over their friendship, instead of igniting a fire during one night of passion. His love for Caroline was steadfast and constant; everything about his relationship with Blair had been volatile and unpredictable.

The rain let up so that only a light sprinkle misted the air. He'd been walking aimlessly for longer than he realized, and, for the first time since he'd chosen not to go home, he recognized where his wandering feet had carried him. He hesitated for only a moment and entered the building, heading straight to the elevator bank at the rear of the lobby.

He swiped his hair out of his eyes, second guessing the rash decision to get into the elevator. Before he could change his mind, the doors slid open with a ding, and he was face to face with her in her foyer.

She blinked slowly, confusion settling into her features as her mind tried to reconcile the image in front of her. "Chuck?" she furrowed her brows, drawing his name out in the form of a question.

His gaze remained focused on the floor as small droplets of water dripped against the marble tile off of his drenched suit jacket. When he still didn't respond, she added, "What are you doing here?"

His eyes shot to hers, and she could see that his guard was down. Heaviness weighed on his shoulders, and she read the question in his eyes before he asked it. She took a step closer but he held up his hand to stop her. He let out a slow breath, drawing on everything inside him to maintain his composure, unsure if anything could've prepared him to seek the answers he'd needed for two years. He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders back with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Why -" he husked, swallowing back the lump lodging itself in his throat, "Why weren't you there?"

"I -" Her mouth fell open, and her eyes softened. "I wanted to be."

"No," he shook his head, a new surge of anger coursing through him. "If you wanted to be, you would've been."

"What -"

"You weren't there." He hated how vulnerable he felt, how much he was exposing himself to the woman who'd toyed with his emotions and only chose him when it was convenient for her. His voice was full of desperation, but he couldn't hold it back any longer. "I needed you, and you weren't there."

He should've expected it. She'd defaulted on her promises before – just like when she said she'd always be his family only to turn him away when he came to her in need of a friend. After the wreck, she had never been the same; she wasn't the same Blair who'd promised to always be there for him and never give up on him. She'd proven that with both her words and actions, but he hadn't allowed himself to believe the proof that was right in front of him.

"Chuck," She approached him this time, slowly as if any sudden movements would scare him away. Her voice, which had started gentle, grew shriller with each word, willing him to believe her. "I tried to be there, I wanted to be there, but you wouldn't let me."

"That's bullshit, Blair," he retorted, exasperated by her denial. "I called you, texted you, begging you to -"

"No," She shook her head vehemently. "I was in Paris, and I didn't find out until…" She paused, softening her voice when she realized what she was about to say. "I didn't find out until after the funeral, and I got on a plane as soon as I could. I left you a voicemail, but when I got back to New York, you were gone and you wouldn't answer my calls."

"What calls?!" He threw his arms out, his voice straining beneath his emotions. "I waited for you, and you weren't there."

"This doesn't make sense," she said, closing her eyes to gain her bearings. "I didn't get any calls or texts from you. I thought you didn't want to see me –"

"I was desperate for you." His words were so quiet that she barely heard them, and, when she registered their meaning, a sharp ache sliced through her chest. She studied his face, her heart breaking at the moisture she saw reflecting in his dark eyes. There were so many emotions etched into his features, but the hurt staring back at her was almost crushing.

"Chuck -" She reached her hand forward, stopping short when she remembered that he'd actively avoided touching her earlier. "I would've been there. I dropped everything, but I didn't want to make things harder for you if you didn't want to see me. Nate said -"

His brows knit themselves together. "Nate?"

"He was the one who told me that Bart died." She lowered her eyes to fiddle with the charm on her bracelet, uncertain if she should continue. "He told me that it was best to give you some space and let you heal on your own."

Chuck stiffened, a sense of strange dread coming over him. "He told you that?"

She nodded. "Serena, too, but I thought she was still mad at me…" She trailed off; no need to bring up the whole Dan Humphrey fiasco again. "But Nate said that last time…that you almost…"

He swallowed hard, locking his jaws as the anger bubbling inside of him found a new target. "He told you about that?"

Her face fell, tears pooling in her eyes as she whispered, "I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me."

"Blair -" he sighed.

"I…" She looked back up at him, taking in the water droplets clinging to his forehead and the damp material of his jacket. "Let me get you a towel. Take off your jacket."

As she headed for the linen closet down the hall, he shrugged out of his jacket, resting it on the back of a chair. He combed his fingers through his hair in exasperation, trying to make some sense of their conversation. Neither Nate nor Serena knew about his night with Blair, but he had no doubt that they damned well knew that he'd want her there as he mourned – that she was the only person he'd want there.

Blair handed a towel to Chuck and guided him to the chaise. She turned her body slightly toward his, crossing her legs at her ankles. This was completely foreign territory for both of them; they weren't even sure exactly what they were trying to discuss, but it seemed to be a long overdue conversation.

"Start from the beginning," Chuck prompted her. "What did Nate tell you about…that night?"

She bit her lip, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt with the palm of her hand. When she looked up at him after several beats passed, he was studying her, patiently waiting for her to continue. There was a gentleness in his eyes that she hadn't expected, and she found comfort that, for the moment at least, he wasn't staring daggers into her. "After I didn't hear back from you, and you'd moved to California, I was out of my mind with worry. I wanted to fly to L.A. and track you down, but Nate said that you were doing well and my showing up might cause a spiral like 2012."

Chuck's nostrils flared with that confession. "What did he say happened in 2012?"

Her eyes were bright, pleading for something from him that he couldn't quite discern. "That you tried to…that you were suicidal after -"

"Dammit," Chuck cursed quietly under his breath, causing Blair to recoil. He immediately softened and shook his head. "He had no right to tell you that."

"It hurts that you didn't want me to know," she whispered, ignoring the lone tear that spilled onto her cheek.

"It wasn't like that." He exhaled slowly. "I didn't try to kill myself; he knows that, and I have no idea why he told you that I did."

"Then what happened?" Her words caught in her throat on a whimper.

"I…I was struggling after Bart cut me out of Bass Industries and you…" He pinched the bridge of his nose, too many thoughts swirling through his mind to form coherent sentences. "I went on a bender – mixed the wrong pills with too much alcohol and landed in the hospital. Nate and Serena found me and initially thought that I had purposely overdosed. I just wanted to escape for a while."

"God, Chuck," She reached to the center of the seat, placing her hand lightly on top of his.

"It was years ago," he groused. "I don't need your sympathy now, Blair."

Her chest tightened. "You know I would've been there."

He yanked his hand back from hers, his eyes narrowing angrily. "Do I? Do I know that you would've been there for me when I needed you?"

"Of course I would have," she answered defensively.

"If you remember back to 2012, Blair, your track record didn't exactly give me much of a reason to have faith in that statement." His eyes darkened, his mood changing so quickly that she had trouble following him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Forget it," he snapped. "I don't even know why we're doing this. What does it help to rehash the past now?"

"No," she said firmly. "You can't drop something like that on me and expect me to just let it go."

"Okay, you want a list of all the times you went back on your promise? Remember 'I'll always be your family' and 'You're always there for the ones you love'? All those broken promises to be there when I needed you?" He stood to his feet, his voice growing louder with every word. "Tell me how you were there for me when I came to you in need of a friend when I thought Elizabeth donated the blood that saved my life? Or how about when you shut me out after the wreck without so much as an explanation? I lost you and our hope of a future, and you wouldn't even explain to me why. Maybe when you told me to wait for you, and then chose Dan after everything we had been through? You made a mockery of my therapy sessions when you used them to try to change your fiancé. You went to Europe with Humphrey as soon as my life was turned upside down after accusing me of paying your dowry just to get close to you."

Knots of guilt settled heavy into her chest, but another emotion – something akin to frustration or anger – bubbled to the surface. She knew she had hurt him, that she had messed up several times that year, but she was sick and tired of being blamed for everything. "I know I screwed up, Chuck," she struggled to maintain an even temper. "But don't forget that my world was turned upside down during that year, too. I went through hell, and…maybe I acted irrationally, but, you know what, I'm starting to realize that I deserve a little grace. I lost my baby, and I very nearly lost the lov…" She stopped, her chin trembling as she realized what she almost said. "I nearly lost you. I was humiliated at my wedding, trapped in a loveless marriage, terrified about what every day would hold, so, yeah, I made a mistake by choosing a man who had been my shoulder to cry on, a man who offered a safe space. I didn't love him, but, for that season of my life, I needed him, if only for a little while. I was so lost and so utterly heartbroken, and, for a moment, I needed easy." Her eyes fell, her shoulders slumping forward in defeat. "In the end, it wasn't easy, though, because I ended up losing you anyway."

For a moment, he just let the silence stretch between them, let her words wash through him. When she shut him out, he wanted nothing more than to be there for her through one of the most difficult times in her life the way she had done for him. At the time, he couldn't reconcile the pain that came with being cut out of her life so abruptly, and even after he found out about her asinine pact with God, he couldn't understand her treatment of him. He knew that she was going through a tough time, but with no communication, he'd stupidly convinced himself that he was the only one still suffering months after the accident.

He hung his own head in shame at his selfishness. He knew Blair, and, yet, he'd blamed her for something that was hurting her more than he could even fathom. His own pain was nothing compared to what she had gone through, and, while it still hurt, the truth was that his years of resentment had been misdirected – at least to an extent.

Quietly, he sat back down next to her, not quite touching her, but close enough to serve as a white flag. He didn't know what to say. If it was years ago, maybe he would have the words, but too much had happened. They weren't the same people, and time had created a chasm between them that neither one could jump over.

"How'd we get here?" she asked softly, sniffling as she looked up at him through blurry vision.

"I don't know," he shook his head. "I'm sorry for what it's worth." 'Sorry' didn't seem adequate, but he couldn't conjure up the right words to convey the regret he felt. Too many years had passed and too many angry words had been spewed for any act of contrition to absolve either of their many sins against each other.

"Me, too," she offered him a sad smile. "Where do we go from here?"

He shrugged, raking his hand down his face before resting his elbows on his knees. "Friends," he answered. "Maybe we can try to be friends again."

"Well," Blair raised her eyebrows, smirking. "If we're going to be friends again, could you at least lift my ban from the Empire?"

He let out a wry chuckle. "You know, I meant to lift it after we…after the park, but, with the move and Bart's condition, it just got away from me. I never meant for it to be permanent."

"Sure." Blair nodded her head teasingly. "There's one thing that I'm still a little confused about." She pursed her lips together in thought. "You said that you didn't get my calls, and I certainly didn't get yours."

Chuck pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and scrolled to the contacts. "Have you changed your number?"

"No," she shook her head.

He hit send to initiate a call, and she fished her phone from her clutch. After several rings without the call connecting, Chuck hung up and said, "Try me."

She called him and immediately his voicemail picked up. "Do you have me blocked?" she asked, sadness evident in her voice.

He scrolled to his settings to view his blocked numbers and furrowed his brows when he found her number listed there. "I never blocked you, Blair."

"Maybe you just don't remember. Maybe it was during one of your benders." She tried to reason. "Let me see your contact info for my number." He held up his phone, and she squinted her eyes in confusion. "That's not my number, Chuck. That '2' should be a '3'. I don't know who you were calling, but it wasn't me."

"This doesn't make any sense."

Chuck corrected her contact information and unblocked her number. When their eyes met, it hit them both at the same time. Everything over the past two years had been a lie, what they believed about each other and the state of their relationship was based on fallacy. Something or someone had intervened in their ever-after, and the reality of everything they'd lost crashed down on top of them.

Blair's hand flew to her mouth, her body trembling with the weight of such a realization. "Oh, my God," she glanced up at him, pleading for some explanation that would ease the pain beginning to spread through her chest. "Chuck?"

He fixed his eyes on her, mouth slightly agape as the same thoughts rippled through his mind. He shook his head, but didn't speak for a long time. He let out an unsteady breath, tension coiling itself together in his stomach at the implications of their discovery. Quietly, he said, "I don't understand how this happened."

"This means…" Her voice quaked, and he closed his eyes, willing her to not finish her thought because then it would mean that it was true – that some cruel joke had altered the course of their lives. "Chuck, things were supposed to be different." Her eyes were full of emotion, and he couldn't bear the pain he saw reflecting there. Her words broke off into a whimper. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

He didn't have time to process the what-could've-beens. What good could come of this conversation now? More anger and resentment? "We can't think about it like that." He raked his hand down his face, her quiet sobs echoing in his head like a bullet's ricochet. "It doesn't change anything."

"But…" She didn't know what to say. She knew he was right, but she wanted him to find a way to fix it – to fix them.

"All this will do, Blair," He swallowed, looking at her with so much desperation that she felt as if she would crumble to the floor if she didn't grasp onto the table beside her. "All that can possibly come from this is more pain. We need to just let it go."

"But someone -"

"I know!" He cut her off sharply, his voice softening when she flinched at his tone. "I know, but it's too late. Nothing can change now." He sighed slowly and closed his eyes. "Please just -"

"You don't want to know what happened?"

"I don't know," he answered, lowering his voice with the only statement he knew could quieten her. "I…I'm getting married, Blair."

She froze. He was right. Finding out the truth wouldn't change anything about their current situation or Chuck's relationship status. Her chest clenched, and she felt her body beginning to rebel against her defeated state of mind. She felt queasy, and her vision was starting to blur. "I…" she exhaled, clutching her stomach tightly. "I need some time to process everything, Chuck."

She didn't miss the concern in his eyes as he reached out for her, trying to steady her arm as she wobbled on her heels. "Are you okay? Let me help you upstairs."

"No," she shook her head, shoving his hand away. "I'm fine. I just…tonight's been a lot."

Chuck nodded, reluctantly making his way toward the elevator. He looked back at her, but she crossed her arms over her chest and hurried up the stairs. As the elevator doors closed, he clenched his fists together angrily. "Fuck," he shredded his knuckles against the steel wall with each curse, "Fuck!"

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and he knew who it was without looking. He powered off the device and headed for the nearest bar to drown his thoughts in expensive alcohol.

Just a shameless and humble request: If you feel so inclined, please leave a review. It's seemed that there has been a decline in readership recently, and hearing the thoughts of readers really does help writers stay motivated. :)