Chapter 9

Chuck squeezed his eyes closed, throwing his arm over his face with a groan when torturous rays of light sliced through the previously dark room. He grumbled, rolling to his stomach and yanking the comforter over his head only to be met with an unknown force ripping it from his grasp.

"What the fuck?!" he snarled, blinking his eyes rapidly at the figure standing over his bed.

"It's two o'clock in the afternoon," a familiar voice responded. "I've been calling you for hours."

Slowly the form came into focus and he recognized his fiancé standing in front of him with her arms propped atop her hips, clearly aggravated by his incoherence. He sat up slowly, raking his hands over his face in an attempt to shield himself from the brightness beaming through the windows where she'd pulled back the curtains.

"I had too much to drink," he explained irritably, willing her to leave him alone.

"I can see that." The typically sweet cadence to her voice held sharp notes of hurt and frustration instead of the understanding and patience that he'd come to expect from her. "Why?" He could hear the accusation in the question without looking at her.

"You know why." He couldn't find any gentleness in his response. Somewhere inside his pounding mind, he knew that he would regret being so short with her, but, at this moment, he let his need to be alone outweigh her desire for an explanation.

"This is about last night? This has something to do with Bart –" She stopped herself, drawing an anxious breath. She looked down at Chuck and could see that there were demons plaguing him in a way that she'd never quite been able to understand. Bringing up his past – particularly as it related to his father – when he was in this state of mind was not only reckless; it was also cruel. She gave herself a second to gather her thoughts before lowering herself to the edge of the bed. "I know that something happened with her, or that she said something that affected you in a way that I don't get, but…" She swallowed, letting him see the hurt reflecting in her eyes. "You can't treat me like this just because you're having a hard time."

"Can you just give me five minutes before you start laying on the guilt?" he snapped.

"Laying on the guilt?" Her eyes narrowed and anger stirred in her chest. "I've been nothing but supportive and understanding. I'm just asking that you talk to me like a human being, that you don't shut me out when –"

He let out a low huff of frustration. "Do I look like I'm in any state to have a conversation right now? Sorry I'm not in the mood for a heart-to-heart when my head is pounding out of my fucking skull."

She flinched as if he'd slapped her. He never spoke to her so harshly, but, then again, she'd always been cognizant enough to give him space when he was in one of his particularly dark moods. In truth, she was having a hard time waiting for him to come to her, for him to be ready to talk because, last night, she'd truly been shaken by his reaction to Blair. She'd never seen him so deeply affected by another person, and he'd certainly never blown her off for so long. When she couldn't reach him the night before, her mind played every possible scenario, her fears refusing to allow her even a minute of restful sleep, so now she felt both a twinge of guilt for pushing him and outrage for the anxiety he'd inflicted upon her. She'd spent her evening worrying about him and his wellbeing, but he hadn't seemed to give hers a second thought.

Her voice was soft when she whispered, "I'm your fiancé."

Chuck glared at her from beneath disheveled strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes were dull and empty, and the aching in her heart pierced deeper at the realization that none of her words moved him.

"And as my fiancé," he emphasized the title as if it were a curse, "I would hope that you would know to give me space when I need it."

She inhaled sharply, biting back the tears that threatened to spill over her eyes. "As you wish."

Chuck pushed himself from the bed, cursing himself for taking his issues out on Caroline. She was right; she'd never been anything other than perfectly supportive. He was an asshole. "Caroline," he called out. "Car –"

But the only response he received was the door slamming behind her as she quickly left his suite.

"Dammit," he cursed, throwing himself back onto the bed and pulling a pillow over his face.

A few hours later, he stood under the scalding spray of the showerhead, his right palm pressed against the cold tile, water droplets dripping from his face and shoulders to circle the drain before slowly slipping away. It had taken every ounce of strength he had left to get up and get dressed. The pounding in his head had been replaced with the incessant anguish in Blair's voice when she spoke aloud the words of their mutual revelation.

"Chuck, things were supposed to be different."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this."

The absolute despair that he could see written in her eyes nearly broke him. Drinking away the memory, pretending like it had only been another hallucination meant to torment him had been his only recourse from the truth that was staring both of them in the face. When she'd turned him away, there was nowhere else to go.

He'd never believed in soulmates. He had certainly believed that Blair was his most closely-aligned match, that they had fit each other more perfectly than even the most intricate puzzle pieces, but he'd never chalked their connection up to fate. Certainly human error had eroded their relationship; their choices had led them down a dark and lonely path in the opposite direction from each other, but there was no greater power at work directing their lives. It was through self-destruction and pride that their relationship had ended – nothing more, nothing less.

But, now, he knew for a fact that it was something far more sinister than fate: it was pure betrayal and manipulation. Someone had played them both like a set of puppets and changed the entire trajectory of their lives in the process.

Someone had ripped away his entire future, and, while he had built a new one with a wonderful woman, his heart yearned to exact revenge upon whomever had stolen his last chance at the only future he'd ever truly wanted.

He turned off the faucet, patting himself dry and wrapping a large towel around his waist. Studying his reflection in the mirror, he saw shadows of the man he used to be - the man who would risk anything and everything, deny everything he was to his very core, just for a mere chance to make Blair happy. The man hidden in the creases around his eyes and the corners of his mouth where the frown lines faded into his stubble tried to remind him that vengeance is second nature to him, that whomever had dared meddle in his business deserved whatever hell he could rain on them. But, the other man – the one who'd fallen in love with an auburn-haired beauty and no longer had to hide pill bottles and drown himself in liquor – implored him to remember what he had to lose.

Seeking out answers would do nothing but open old wounds that would never heal and for what? The benefits couldn't outweigh the risks. Nothing good could come of it, and, now that that was settled, he had two courses of action laid out in front of him: he needed to apologize to Caroline and keep Blair from stoking a fire that was sure to consume them all.

XOXO

Around six, Chuck headed to the penthouse he'd purchased with Caroline. Clutching a cliché bouquet of red roses in his right hand, he anxiously entered the code to the top floor, hoping that a sincere apology and the garish flowers would be enough to earn her forgiveness. He wished she had a favorite flower; the roses felt impersonal, but she'd always just said to him: "Flowers are flowers."

He walked into the expansive foyer, flipping the lights on as he entered. He wasn't entirely surprised that she wasn't home yet, so he put the roses in a crystal vase and poured a glass of scotch.

He felt like a stranger in his own home; there was no television (not that he'd watch it anyway), and none of the boho-chic decor fit his style. He lowered himself awkwardly to a stool at the kitchen island and opened Caroline's laptop, more as a means to occupy himself than any other reason.

As the screen powered on, he realized that Caroline hadn't closed out her most recent tabs. It felt like an invasion of privacy, and he immediately hovered over the exit button before his eyes caught the words typed into the search bar at the top of the Google page. Curiosity won over, and he pulled up her search history.

Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf

Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf + relationship

Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf + Empire Hotel

Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf + Bart Bass funeral

What happened between Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf?

Why did Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf break up?

Ice swooshed through veins. Caroline was a staunchly confident and independent woman, and she'd always maintained that she wasn't threatened in any way by his past.

More than anything, he felt a mixture of outrage and disbelief. He'd tried to respect her right to privacy, and this almost certainly felt like a violation of his trust. His relationship with Blair was theirs alone, and he didn't owe anyone an explanation.

A low knock sounded at the door, shaking him from the onslaught of emotions coursing through his mind. He quickly closed the laptop and made his way to the front door. Before realizing that Caroline wouldn't knock to enter her own penthouse, he threw open the door, ready to confront her for her transgressions.

Instead when he found himself face-to-face with Blair, all of his anger dissipated as the breath was knocked from his lungs. Her eyes widened, and she shuffled nervously from foot-to-foot. "Um," she smiled sheepishly, "I have an appointment with Caroline at 6:30. I'm a little early. I wasn't expecting you; I can come back -"

His face softened, and he opened the door wider to invite her inside. "Come in, Blair."

She hesitated. "I don't want to -"

"I wanted to talk to you anyway."

"Okay," she nodded, entering the penthouse cautiously, as if there were landmines planted throughout.

He led her to the kitchen, and she couldn't help observing, "I didn't realize that you lived with…that you also live here."

He noticed that she chose her words carefully, not quite able to verbalize the seriousness of his relationship with Caroline. "I don't." He watched several emotions cross her features and he quickly amended, "I mean, I do, but not always."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a meek laugh squeaking out between her words. "You do live here, but you don't live here."

"Exactly," he smirked, shoving his hands in his pants pockets, "I stay at the Empire most nights." He wasn't sure why he wanted her to know that. It was perfectly acceptable for him to live with his fiancé, and it was none of Blair's business anyway.

"Well," she nodded, "I'm not surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that…I don't know, Chuck." She exhaled in exasperation. "It's just that you've always needed your own space."

"I could live here," he defended. "I'd be perfectly content to live here."

"Of course," she bit her tongue to keep from noting that there wasn't a single element that reminded her of him. There was nothing here that resembled Chuck Bass, and that broke her heart at the same time that a strange sense of smugness settled into her chest.

"Anyway, would you like a glass of wine while you wait?"

"That'd be great."

He busied himself with the wine, mostly to give himself a chance to settle the thoughts swirling through his mind. He had entered this new strange reality with Blair where they were some strange combination of acquaintances, colleagues, and friends. They knew too much about each other to be friends, but there was too much history to be mere acquaintances. They were stuck in this weird limbo where neither one of them seemed to know exactly how to interact with the other, leading to an eerie familiarity interspersed with tension and awkward conversation.

When he handed her the wine glass, he ventured upon a topic that both intrigued and scared him. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," came her automatic canned response.

"No, Blair." Her name spoken firmly from his lips caused her eyes to meet his. "I mean, after last night. How are you after last night?"

"I -" She studied him for a minute, finding the creases a little deeper around his mouth and the darkness outlining his eyes a clear indication that he was struggling just as much as she was. She knew in that moment that she needed to be honest. Secrecy and half-truths wouldn't get them anywhere anymore. "I'm struggling, Chuck. I didn't sleep last night. I couldn't shut off my mind."

"I'm sorry," he rasped.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." She brought the wine to her lips while he spun his tumbler in a circle between his fingers. Her eyes fell to the gashes cutting across his knuckles. Gently, as if on their own accord, she reached out and brushed her fingers over his. Her voice was a soft plea when she said, "Chuck."

The corner of his lip curled up in a slight half-smirk, and he nearly subconsciously turned his hand to link his fingers with hers. "I guess it hit me hard, too."

She basked in the warmth of his hand on hers, and a new wave of emotions overcame her. She closed her eyes, but it wasn't enough to keep the tears from pushing past the barrier.

"Blair -" Chuck's deep, raspy voice carried so much weight that she wasn't capable of holding back anymore.

"I'm so sad, Chuck," she sniffed. "But at the same time I'm so damn angry and bitter."

"I know, but we can't –"

"I don't know how to hold it all in. It's like I'm drowning so slowly that I'll never actually die." The tears tumbled from her eyes, and she dared not hide herself from him. "I need to know that I'm not alone, that –"

Her voice cracked, and his earlier resolve wavered. He immediately stood, going to her side and pulling her from her seat to wrap his arms around her shoulders. At first, she resisted, but it was all too much and the familiarity of his embrace won out over logic.

"You're not alone, Blair," he whispered against her temple.

She didn't respond for a long while, instead resting her head against his shoulder, letting her tears melt into the material of his suit jacket, an invisible connection bonding them together for a short moment – a vapor in time that would vanish the second either one of them snapped back to reality.

He closed his eyes, resting his chin atop her head. A silent battle waged in his mind; he was aware enough that this was wrong - that he was skirting some level of inappropriate contact, maybe even borderline betrayal or infidelity. But, his mind rationalized, Caroline had encouraged him to pursue a friendship with Blair, and a friend would undoubtedly comfort the other.

Still, he refused to let his hands explore her back or run up and down her arms, instead opting to clasp them tightly together around her waist. Constricting his own movements was the only surefire way to resist the temptation that came from touching Blair.

The front door creaked quietly as pressure from the turning knob on the other side released the latch. Chuck instinctively released Blair, jumping back and distancing himself from the crying woman in front of him, guilt rushing through him for a multitude of reasons.

When Caroline darkened the entryway into the kitchen, she froze, her eyes bouncing between Chuck and Blair. Tension mounted between the three until she finally cleared her throat, directing her attention to Chuck. "Hey," she greeted icily, "I didn't think you were coming over tonight."

"I -" His eyes darted from Blair to the bouquet of roses on the island. Picking them up, he offered them to his girlfriend. "I'm sorry for this morning. I was out of line."

Caroline's gaze fell to the roses and back to Blair, whose eyes were fixed on her fingernails. She felt like she'd just interrupted something. From what she could tell, Blair's eyes were red and puffy, and, in the pendant lights above the kitchen island, she could see the wounds outlining Chuck's knuckles - a detail she'd missed this morning. She wasn't quite sure what was going on, but she certainly didn't want Blair to be privy to the issues between her and Chuck.

"No need to apologize." She plastered a soft smile on her lips, and pressed herself into Chuck, kissing him deeply and sighing contentedly when she pulled away. "I understand completely." She brought the bouquet to her nose and inhaled their scent. "Thank you for the flowers. Roses are my favorites; you know me so well."

All he could do was grin stupidly because it was achingly obvious that her show was solely for Blair's benefit – and perhaps a warning for him to tread carefully.

"Well," Chuck started, "I'll leave you all to it."

"Nonsense," Caroline waved her hand. "Stay for dinner. We're just finalizing the details of the campaign. I'd love for you to hear it."

"I'll just be in the way -"

"I'm sure Blair would love to have you here," Caroline smiled sweetly. "Wouldn't you, Blair?"

Blair immediately nodded. "Of course. Please stay, Chuck."

"Two tense dinners in a row," Chuck muttered under his breath. "Lucky me."

"What's that?" Caroline asked.

"Oh, I was just saying that I'll order dinner while you two get settled."

The kicker was that he could easily order from any restaurant for either of these women without inquiring about their preferences.

An hour and a half later, Chuck was four scotches deep, and he finally felt the effects engulfing him. He sat back quietly in his chair, having long-since finished his dinner, and watched these two women grow lost in planning. To Blair's credit, she had gracefully transitioned into her most professional persona as soon as the conversation turned to work. And Caroline, for all of the jealousy that seemed to seep out around the edges when she first entered the penthouse, seemed perfectly at ease here discussing runway techniques and taglines with his ex-girlfriend.

That feeling from dinner the night before returned, and this time the alcohol made it harder to ignore. He felt like he owed himself to both of these women – that each of them owned a different piece of him, and he didn't know how to separate himself from them. While he quite generously gave himself to Caroline, he didn't know how to rip the scarred pieces of himself away from Blair so that Caroline could complete the puzzle.

By the time they finished outlining their plans, each of the three had consumed enough alcohol that the inhibitions that had crafted their initial conversation faded, giving way to more candid discussion. Blair found that she genuinely liked Caroline, and that revelation annoyed her more than she cared to admit.

"So," Caroline snorted, "There we were in Milan at the Max Mara show, and he elbowed Gemma Chan in the ribs trying to sneak a picture of me on the catwalk. She yelped so loud that I almost fell off the runway."

Blair laughed alongside the couple, imagining the absolute mortification she would've felt on Chuck's behalf. She swallowed back the pang that stabbed at her chest, and arched an eyebrow at Chuck, "You know they have multiple photographers they hired just for that purpose, right?"

"What can I say?" Chuck smirked, massaging Caroline's shoulder. "I was proud." He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I still am."

Blair forced a tight-lipped grin to spread across her face. "And for good reason. She's incredible."

Caroline rolled her eyes playfully. "What about you, Blair? I'm sure you have a million stories about Chuck making an ass of himself. I'd love to hear some of those."

Blair's mind flashed with several memories in such quick succession that she could hardly focus on one before it was replaced with another. Then, she landed on one memory that overshadowed all of the others, and she felt her heart plummet into her stomach.

"You proved you can score a prince. Okay, I admit, you made me jealous. Now let's go back to my place so you can collect your prize."

"Stop this. You're embarrassing me."

"It's not me who's disrespecting these fine people. It's you, pretending you're going to marry this French phony. It's a joke."

"I'm not going anywhere without you. Tell your prince where your heart truly lies. Tell him. Tell me."

Initially, the utter humiliation she'd felt had made her want to ring his neck, to slap him first and then wash her hands of him for good. But that last statement, the desperation in his voice when he pleaded "Tell me," shattered her heart into a thousand fragments.

Her eyes caught Caroline's questioning gaze and that pathetic plea resonated so deeply that it ached. For the first time, she could truly empathize with Chuck's plight that night. She cut her attention to Chuck and found his eyes fixed firmly on hers. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she swallowed, a silent invocation hidden behind her eyes.

Tell your model where your heart truly lies. Tell her. Tell me.

As if he could read the pitiful message in her countenance, his eyes fell to the table, tracing the designs in the woodwork with his index finger.

She realized she'd remained quiet for far too long. "Um, actually," she cleared her throat, "Chuck saved me from embarrassing myself more often than he caused it. One time, I was so drunk he practically dragged me off stage during a terrible off-key karaoke performance."

Chuck's eyes shot back to hers in disbelief, and he offered her a nearly imperceptible smile – a note of gratitude for willingly succumbing to self-deprecation instead of exposing him for the mess that he is. She nodded softly, ending their wordless conversation to which Caroline was none-the-wiser.

"Oh, my God," Caroline giggled, downing another gulp of her Chardonnay, "I cannot picture you singing karaoke."

Blair smiled. "That was the one and only occurrence. Thank God."

"Thank Chuck, you mean." He winked, and tingles shot down her spine, electrifying her from the inside out.

"Well," Blair stood from her chair, turning to Caroline, ignoring the feeling of Chuck's eyes boring into her back. "I should be going. Early day at the atelier tomorrow."

"Of course," Caroline reached her hand out to shake Blair's. "Thank you so much for coming over tonight. I have a much better idea about the direction we're heading with this campaign. I'm so excited to work with you and Waldorf Designs, truly."

Chuck reached for Blair's coat and purse, subtly dropping the first item he could reach – her wallet – onto the ground and kicking it underneath the table.

Blair inhaled as she released Caroline's hand and said earnestly, "Thank you for being so cool about all of…" She gestured between herself and Chuck. "...this. It's so good to be able to hang out with one of my closest friends again."

Caroline's lips spread into a tight smile and she nodded, though she couldn't completely conceal the tension pulling at her cheeks. "Absolutely. I think it means a lot to Chuck, too, to have you back in his life."

"Well," Blair turned to Chuck, unsure of how to appropriately say goodbye. "See you around, Chuck."

"Goodnight, Waldorf," he husked.

A minute or so after Blair had departed, while Caroline deposited the wine glasses into the sink, Chuck leaned down and picked up the strategically-placed wallet. "Oh." He held it in the air. "Blair left her wallet."

"Oh, I'll take it to -" But he was out the door before she could finish the sentiment that she could just drop it by the atelier in the morning.

On the sidewalk, the crisp night air cut through Blair as she made her way to her town car. She pulled her coat tighter around her waist, trying to reconcile all of the many thoughts swirling through her mind. Just as she reached the sleek vehicle, a hand came down on her shoulder, startling her from her thoughts.

"Jesus," she jumped.

He smiled. "I called your name, but you didn't hear me."

"What are you doing out here, Chuck?"

"You left your wallet." He opened her bag while it rested in the crook of her arm and slipped the wallet inside before zipping it back and settling it on her shoulder.

"How…" She stopped, realization dawning on her at the smug look crossing his features. "I didn't actually forget my wallet, did I?"

He shrugged. "It may have had some help getting out of your purse and falling under the table."

"Why'd you do that?"

"I needed to talk to you without Caroline hearing."

"This is not a good idea, Chuck."

"I know."

"Then what do you need to say?" She was exhausted, and the alcohol was quickly leaving her system. She didn't have the patience for whatever mindgame Semi-Drunk Chuck was playing.

"There's so much to say, Blair."

"I'm tired."

"So am I."

"Chuck –"

He looked up at the building and could almost swear that he saw a flicker come from the top floor. Caroline was already suspicious, and he didn't have much time to waste. "I need to get my thoughts together. I've already been out here for too long. Caroline has a photoshoot out west this weekend. Meet me at the Empire Saturday?"

Blair remained quiet before shaking her head. "No, Chuck."

He furrowed his brows. "Why not?"

"This is a slippery slope. You're engaged. You can't start keeping secrets from your fiancé and sneaking around. It's dangerous, and it's cruel. I did that with Louis and look where we ended up."

"Blair." He reached out, gently cupping her chin so that she would look at him. "Listen to me when I say this: I love Caroline. I'm not looking to hurt her or betray her in any way. This is not the same situation as we had with Louis. I'm going to marry Caroline, and I'm going to do it with a clear conscience."

"Then what is all this about?" she asked, exasperated.

"You were right. Whoever did this to us needs to pay. We deserve revenge, even if it doesn't change anything."

Before she could respond, he opened the door to the town car and ushered her inside. "Just meet me on Saturday."

A/N: I didn't expect to update this story today, honestly. I've tried for weeks to update other stories, and I've run into severe writer's block. I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but at least I was able to finally write something. Not sure if anyone's still reading, but, if you are, I would love to hear your thoughts. :)