Chapter 1 of Castaways

Author: Isabelle

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl, its characters, or anything.

Summary: Before they kissed, before the night at Victrola, they were going to meet Nate at St. Croix. That is, before their plane crashed, and they were left the only two survivors on an island with no other inhabitants. Chuck/Blair, of course.

Rating: Mostly PG-13, maybe R at one point

A/N – I know, I can't help myself with these crazy plots. Always thanking my BETA, Tati, because she totally deserves a medal.


"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone."
Orson Welles

She glared at the message on her phone. She sighed dramatically, as if part of a performance.

Her companion shifted, studying her, and she could feel the smirk on his face. The smirk she usually liked wiping off.

"Where's fair Nathaniel?" He leered.

Ugh. She disliked him at times like these. Oftentimes, she asked herself why she put up for him and for so long. Perhaps it was out of habit. I mean, she had known him since he used to cry and hold onto his nanny's skirts.

She remembered the first time she saw him. Pink-faced and sobbing. His nanny had attempted to pry him off her skirts, but Charles held on tight, refusing to go to school. She had stared him down, very annoyed at the horrible noise he was making.

"Stop crying!" Six year-old Blair had snapped at him. He had instantly stopped. "You look silly."

He had glared at her. "We-well, at least I don't have a bow on my head!"

"My bow is pretty, Stupid," she had countered just as easily.

He had followed her then – that's how he had met Nathaniel. Now, years later, Blair was still snapping at Chuck, only he had learned to defend himself and even better than she did. Which was probably why she kept him around; she could be the bitch she enjoyed being around him.

"He's meeting us there," she said stiffly.

He chuckled.

"What?" She asked, annoyed and rolling her eyes.

"I don't know, Waldorf – if I had a girl with legs like yours waiting on a plane for me, I would do everything possible to get to her. Heiresses couldn't keep me away." He stretched out on his seat.

She glared at him and his outfit. He looked like someone had slipped him out of the Copacabana with his white linen suit and white Panama hat. The only color in his outfit was his annoyingly bright orange ascot. Leave it to Chuck to dress for the occasion. She looked down at herself. Ok. So she had dressed for the occasion herself. Her floral Alexander McQueen dress fit her curves perfectly, as did her Channel straw hat and matching purse. Nate would be the only one wearing Aeropostale.

"Yeah, right – I'm sure you're one to leave a girl, anywhere, at any time," she countered, unable to think of a better reply.

"And I have," he nodded, never defending his degrading behavior. Always proud of his womanizing ways and never apologizing to anyone – not even her, his oldest friend.

"I suppose you should go on ahead. I'll wait for him," she said, ignoring his lascivious comment.

"And fly commercial?" He asked, studying his hat with a smirk firmly placed on his Roman face.

She hated that he knew her so well. He knew she was as shallow as he was and enjoyed the luxury of the Bass private plane. She huffed, looking around the plane. She always did love riding on the plane. And Chuck knew it – even when they were little, she proclaimed she was riding with Chuck because of the plane.

"Fine," she snapped finally. "But I feel really bad about this."

"Sure you do, Waldorf," he sneered, placing the hat over his head and smirking at the flight attendant as she brought him his customary scotch.

She watched Chuck as he exchanged five words with the girl and the slut was practically bearing his babies. She rolled her eyes and took out her I-pod, intent on getting through her next audio book, undisturbed by Chuck and his promiscuous actions. In three hours, she would be in sunny St. Croix, housed in the best room money could buy, provided by the he-slut himself. She would be sipping mojitos as she worked on her perfect tan. While Chuck chased the natives and Nate braved commercial flights to be with her.

"Waldorf!" She was snapped out of her reverie and placed Dostoevsky on pause. She slowly turned to look at him.

"What?" She demanded.

Chuck pointed to the stewardess; the young blonde was waiting to ask her what she wanted.

"Club soda, wedge of lime," she said and continued her audio, then stopped when she noticed him watching her.

"What?" She snapped, pausing the Russian once more.

"What are you listening to?" He asked.

"Chuck," she began patiently. "I did not agree to come on this flight with you in order to be your entertainment. I did it to relax and get away from the mess my life is at the moment."

He raised his brow, and she knew she had given him ammunition. She cursed internally.

"Any of this mess caused by our dear Nathaniel?" He asked, playing with his hat while he eyed the blond waitress and her short skirt.

Her answer was a Waldorf glare. She plugged her I-pod back in as he chuckled, amused by her reaction. She rolled her eyes as he followed the blonde to the back to do God-knows-what in God-knows-where.

She closed her eyes, and the feel of the plane combined with the droning words lulled her to sleep. She dimly felt someone place a blanket over her.


He came back after he made the blonde scream four times and four times only. He left her nearly passed out and with a happy smile on her face. He was Chuck Bass, after all.

"Make sure you get her the club soda," he said calmly as he zipped up his pants. The girl did a gurgling noise in the back of her throat and nodded, eyes crossed.

He chuckled and calmly washed his hands, then walked out.

There was slight turbulence as he walked back to Blair so he held onto some of the seats. It was a rarity that he was able to get the plane all to himself and his friends. For the most part, he had to share it with either the marketing team or his father's investors. Once in a while they would get a celebrity and he would always volunteer as an escort, especially for models and young actresses. He smiled, remembering the flight to L.A. a few months ago. Just him, the butler, and Drew Barrymore. What a night.

So now the plane was just his and Blair's – not that he could do much with Blair. He smiled slightly when he found her asleep. She had her earplugs on and was completely gone to the world.

Leave it to Blair to bring recommended reading material on a flight to St. Croix. He shook his head and took a seat across from her, slurping down the rest of his scotch. He shifted, looked over some magazines, then got bored and threw them to the side.

He looked out the window and sighed, annoyed and bored. If Nathaniel were here, they could talk about girls. He glared at his sleeping companion. Did she really have to fall asleep? Honestly! The least she could do was keep him company.

He had allowed her to come along, after all. It was supposed to be a boys-only getaway. Then she had to turn all needy and make Nathaniel feel bad, and then he had asked Chuck if she could come and Chuck had caved.

Honestly, he didn't know why Nathaniel put up with it. He personally enjoyed the freedom. Screw who you wanted, no strings attached.

He studied the sleeping girl. No matter how lovely her lips were, it was not worth it.

He shook his head, smiling. Nope, not worth it.

She shifted, and her dress rode higher. He paused.

She was a virgin.

The thought made his mouth water.

No. No, no. This was Blair he was thinking of this way. She was like a sister to him. No, not a sister… Well, maybe a sister. He'd never had a sister. Did one have sporadic sexual fantasies about sisters?

He tilted his head as she shivered in her seat, mumbling softly in her sleep.

He sighed, spotting a cashmere throw folded neatly inside her straw 'purse'. She called it a 'purse'. He would call it luggage. He leaned forward and took out the gray blanket and threw it over her shivering body. She sighed contently in her sleep.

A sister, he reminded himself.

He watched her as she slept, and after a while her peaceful face lulled him to sleep.


The first bump jolted her out of her sleep. Her eyes were wide and confused. Another one.

Her stomach flipped. She sat up, looking around. No one was around except a peacefully sleeping Chuck. She looked down, surprised at seeing her throw over her body. Did she grab it in her sleep? She shook her head but all thoughts of throws went out her mind as the plane jumped. Her stomach went along with it. She looked outside and saw white clouds. The wind was moving fast around them. She gulped and looked at Chuck. He was snoring.


She unbuckled her seat belt and, grabbing onto all she could, she made her way to the front. A huge jolt made her fall flat on her ass. She let out a yelp.

Scrambling up, she made it to the pilot door.

After her frantic knock, one of the pilots let her in.

"What's going on?" She demanded.

"Just a small storm and some turbulence. Nothing to be worried about, Miss Waldorf." Another jolt almost left her on top of the man's lap.

"Small storm?" She snapped.

She listened as they talked back and forth to each other and the local tower.

"Where are we?" She demanded.

"Over the Caribbean," one of them explained. "We're going to gain altitude in order to avoid the storm."

This did not sit well with her. She made her way to the back once more intent on waking Chuck and demanding he knock some sense into the 'pilots'.

She spied the stewardess looking nervous as she strapped herself in.

"Please take your seats and put your seat belts on, we're going through a rough patch."

A rough patch, she sneered. Honestly! What happened to professionalism these days? She shakily took a seat next to Chuck and, once she was strapped in with sweaty hands, she shoved him awake.

"What the fuck?" He yelped.

"Wake up!" She demanded, and he hissed when the plane jolted stronger than it ever had. Her nails had dug into his forearm.

"Catwoman, ease up!" He brought his offended arm to his chest, glaring at her.

"Speak to your staff! They're incompetent-" Another jolt left her breathless. "And are surely going to kill us!"

"Jesus, Waldorf! It's a little-" he paused, holding onto the arm rests as another wave made their asses leave the leather seats. "… turbulence," he finished lamely.

She looked pale and nauseous.

He hooked on his seat belt, trying to remain calm, as she closed her eyes and began counting to fifty as the plane shook and danced in the sky, its passengers holding on for dear life.

She closed her eyes and let out a breath.

"You can't be afraid of flying," he teased her, ignoring the small beads of sweat forming on his own brow.

The plane made another forceful jolt and Blair yelped, grasping her arm rests.

"I'm not!" She spat. "This is not normal!"

"It is!" He cried back, and then let out his own yelp when they momentarily lost altitude and were lifted off their seats.

"Oh, my God, Chuck, oh my God!" Blair babbled.

"It's fine," he said reassuringly, eyes wide. He used the intercom by his seat to call the pilots. "What the fuck is going on there?"

The voice crackled. "I apologize, Mr. Bass – we are attempting to go over the storm. No worries, we will be in the clear momentarily."

Chuck turned to Blair with a smirk. "See?"

His smirk, however, was quickly wiped off when they lost altitude and didn't seem to be gaining.

Blair reached out, grasping his arm, and he unconsciously grasped back.

"It's ok, it's ok, it's ok," she kept repeating. Chuck was doing his own chant in his head. Only his went more like 'fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck'.

"We're not going up!" She finally yelled. The cabin lost pressure and they both jumped back when the breathing masks popped down. Blair screamed.

"Fucking shit!" Chuck cried, staring at the breathing masks.

Blair was outright crying.

He reached out with shaky hands and placed the mask over his head, he began to breathe through it. He turned to Blair and tried to help her into hers, but she was shaking so bad he couldn't.

"Stop!" He snapped.

"I don't want to die, Chuck. I don't want to die!" She said as he placed the breathing mask over her face.

He didn't say anything, just stared straight ahead as the plane continued to shake violently. He ducked when her 'purse' flew in the air, almost smacking him in the head.

They continued descending and before he knew it, they crashed into the water. He gasped as he saw the stewardess he'd just fucked fly across the plane and land with a sickening thud on the other side of it as Blair screamed and cried.

His heart was thumping and he could hardly breathe. He looked outside and saw they had landed in the water. The wind was still howling outside and the plane was shifting from side to side. He'd seen enough movies to know they couldn't last long – the water pressure would make the windows cave in. The plane was still above water, but quickly sinking. They most likely had a leak somewhere.

"C'mon!" He said to Blair. He unhooked himself out of the seat and threw off the breathing mask.

She stared at him, still shaking. They had crashed. She had been in a plane crash. She was still alive. She couldn't believe it.

She felt him unhook her belt, yank her mask off, and pull her up.

"We have to get out of here," he said, his voice was shaky, even shakier than his hands.

The plane was tilted sideways and continued to move, so they struggled to make it to the emergency closet.

Blair grasped onto Chuck when she saw the dead stewardess, her neck was at an odd angle and she was still in her seat. The entire seat had come off the hooks.

"Keep going," he said, opening the door after a few pulls. He sighed, took out two life vests and handed her one. She put it over her head, fastening the sides along with him.

"If we open the door, won't the water enter?" She asked, looking at the emergency door in fear. The plane made a frightening noise and she gulped, holding onto the wall.

"I don't think we'll have to open doors. We don't have much time," he said, finishing his own life vest.

She followed him as he made it through the debris to the pilot spot. A few times they almost fell into one another as more jerking noises invaded the plane and the winds howled outside.

When he opened the door, she cried out because both pilots she had spoken to a minute ago were dead. The glass was broken and there was blood everywhere. Rain was pelting inside of the cabin and the wind made papers and items shift. They were mere inches away from the water as the waves crashed angrily against the glass.

"We have to call for help – let someone know our coordinates," he said automatically.

"What do you know of coordinates?" She snapped, anxiously looking as the water began to rapidly enter the small cabin.

Chuck grabbed the radio.

"Hello! Someone out there?" He cried into the microphone, trying to have his voice heard over the howling wind. "My name is Chuck Bass, aboard the Bass Enterprises private plane. We have crashed into the water. I am alive, and so is Blair Waldorf. We need help. Anyone out there?"

The water was coming in quicker and quicker. "Chuck," she said, pointing to the water.

The line was dead.

"If anyone is out there, we are survivors. Please – help!" He put the phone down and turned to grab the first aid box next to the pilots.

"My things!" She said.

"Jesus, Waldorf – I'll buy you new things!" He snapped.

"But – but-" She stumbled as he pulled her arm.

They both screamed when a crashing noise was heard in the back of the plane.

"It's sinking!" He yelled, pulling her towards the opening in the window, shielding his face against the wind.

"No!" She cried, pulling back, staring at the glass shards and the angry waters.

"Blair, c'mon!" He pulled her. The plane shifted as the tail began to sink.

"Oh, God," she whimpered, holding on to him. He helped her out of the broken window as they faced the open ocean. The waves lashed out at them and she was soaked before they even jumped off.

"Ok, just swim. And don't let go of my hand, ok?" He said, his voice wavering slightly, enough to make her whimper.

They looked at each other for a moment before he leapt off and took her with him. They landed in the water with a huge splash. She gasped, holding onto him as the cool water hit her. She tried to keep her head above the water, her life vest making her float as wave after wave tried to drown them.

"Swim!" He instructed. She nodded, spitting out water as she followed his lead. She turned back to look at the plane and gasped as it continued sinking behind them.

"Swim faster, Blair!" He cried, and she realized the current was pulling them in. She cried out and began to put all her energies into swimming until her arms felt like they would fall off.

"I'm tired!" She cried back to him, spitting out more water as the sea trashed them around.

"Don't stop, dammit – Blair!" He said, but she could see he was also exhausted.

She didn't know how long they swam but soon enough the plane had sunk.

She held onto him as the sea trashed around them.

"Don't fall asleep," he told her and she nodded, shivering.

They continued just bobbing in the storm, holding onto each other for a few hours until their limbs were shaky and they were ready to give into the sea. It was night by the time the winds finally calmed down.

They floated next to the other in silence, still too shocked to say anything.

It was eerily quiet, out there in the middle of the ocean. A chill ran down her spine. They bobbled together, neither saying a word but holding onto each other nonetheless.

"How long do you think it'll take them to find us?" She asked quietly.

"A couple of hours – at the most," he said after a moment.

They bobbled until Chuck became restless.

"What?" She asked.

"I have to pee," he confessed.

She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Well, swim over there!" She pointed away from her. He let go of her hand and she panicked a bit because now she was by herself.

"Hurry up!" She cried, looking at his retreating back.

"Well, I can't go with you looking!" he snapped.

"Are you serious?" She cried.

He sighed, flapping his arms. She shook her head and looking at him disbelievingly.

"You can't pee because I'm looking at you?" She growled.

He turned. "Would you?"

Her face brightened and she tucked a wet strand of wet hair behind her ear.

"No," she admitted.

"Then turn!" He snapped. She pouted, but slowly turned, her heart thumping. If she wasn't looking at him, she would be alone.

"Are you done?" She asked, staring out into the dark ocean. She was completely petrified. Who knew what was lurking in the water?

Then something happened. Something that made her scream bloody murder.

Something slithered around her leg.

"Chuck!" She cried. "Oh, my God!" She began swimming towards him.

"I'm not done!" He cried as she attacked him, trying to climb on top of him.

"Oh, my God, there's something in the water!" She was crying.

"It's the fucking ocean!" He growled as he tried to untangle her from him.

"No, no!" She cried. "I can't do this!"

"It was probably seaweed!" He snapped.

"No, it was moving, Chuck – it was going to bite me!" She cried, holding onto his shoulders.

"It was-" Then he jumped, crying out. "Fuck, it's on me!"

They both began to yell as their legs were touched by unseen things.

"It's fish!" He exclaimed after he ducked his head under the water. "It's a school of fish!"

She breathed in and out, looking at him – trying to believe him.

"Are you sure?" She asked, eyes wide.

He nodded, hoping to be correct himself. She slowly climbed off him.

"Jesus, Waldorf – I didn't know you wanted to be on me this badly," he sneered, trying to lighten the mood. Wrong choice, because she was emotional and shaken.

She smacked him and hard. "I can't believe this is happening to me!" She cried. "And with you out of all people!"

"Calm down!" He tried to grab her projectile hand.

"This is your fault!" She cried. "I could be home!"

"How is this my fault?" He yelled back.

"You – you with your trip ideas!" She cried.

"I invited Nathaniel!" He cried. "He insisted we take you because you were being needy!"

She gasped and slapped him – as much as she could. "Liar!"

He bobbled away from her, and she screeched, reaching for him. "No, Chuck!"

"Stay away!" He cried, swimming from her.

Then they both paused. Stock still. All the blood draining from their faces.

A shark fin swam right next to them.

"Chuck," she whispered.

"Shut up, Blair," he whispered back, never taking his eyes off the fin.

"He's going to eat us," she hissed.

"Don't move," he instructed. "Not a bit."

She simply nodded, holding her body still. The shark circled them for a while and then moved off, chasing after the school of fish.

They were quiet for a while, not daring to move.

The water felt suddenly warm around him. He turned to look at her.

"What are you doing?" He demanded.

One look from her was all he needed.

"You peed?" He gasped.

She began crying. "Don't look at me!"

"I can't believe this!" He yelled.

"I'm sorry!" She cried.

"On me! On me! You peed on me!" He yelled.

"I didn't want to be alone!" She defended herself, wiping her tears.

"You know what?" He snapped.

He let his own pee go.

She gasped, feeling the water temperature change.

"Stop it! Stop it!" She cried, disgusted.

"How do you like it, eh?"

"You bastard!"

"You bitch!"

"Arrgghhh! I hate you!" She spat once he was done, with a happy satisfied smile on his face.

"Feeling's mutual," he retorted. "We've officially peed on each other, nothing can be more embarrassing."

"I don't think I can ever go back to my normal life," she admitted to him. He bristled and looked away.

That's when he saw it.

"Blair," he said, in awe.

"What?" She growled.

"Look," he said, pointing off to the distance.

She rolled her eyes and turned towards what he was pointing. Her eyes widened. There in the darkness was the outline of an island, illuminated by moonlight.

"Land!" She cried.

He nodded, too happy for words. The first thing he was going to do was book the most expensive suite and shower because he didn't think he would deal with baths ever. Ordering all the food available in room service and demanding a Tahitian beauty sent to his suite.

"Swim!" He instructed her.

They swam the mile or so to the island until they found themselves finally at the beach. They were about to pass out, exhausted from hours in the storm, the floating and lack of food.

"Hello!" Chuck called out as he stumbled to the beach. "Hello!"

Blair was just laying on her back on the beach, breathing in and out and enjoying being alive and on land.

No answer. Only the animals of the night.

He stumbled back to her.

"We'll search tomorrow." He said before he threw himself on the sand and passed out along with her.


To be continued