Summary: Her world was nothing more than a perfectly blended mixture of lies that created an illusion of progress. Chuck/Blair

Spoilers: 1x18 Much 'I do' about nothing

Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl or the song lyrics, they belong to their respective owners.

AN: What if Blair didn't decide to leave NY without Chuck? What if she demanded answers instead?


You can't always get what you want

But if you try sometimes you might find,

you get what you need…

-Rolling Stones


She straightened her dress with her hands as she looked out at the street through a smeared car window and the passing buildings, trying to forget all about her trip to Tuscany and the butterflies she felt this morning at the mere thought of spending time with him. Now they were replaced with the feeling of dread and fear of the unknown. There was a strange feeling in her stomach that told her something was just not right and she needed to know what it was. She deserved an explanation or at least something more than a short text massage with some lousy excuse. She knew all about those and if he expected she would buy that he was very wrong.

The vibrating of her cell made her jump a little, bringing her back to reality. She searched through her purse and finally pulled out her sidekick to check the message.

B, have a gr8 time in Tuscany. Hope U and Chuck are not applying for the exclusive mile high club right now. Love, S

A laugh escaped her lips but it ended up sounding awful lot like a sob to her ears as the words on the screen slowly started to blur. The reality of her situation hit her all at once, the knowledge that instead of being on a private plane and enjoying all the advantages it presented with him as company, she was sitting in a cab alone hoping she wasn't sitting on someone's gum or worse, listening to some awful foreign radio station. She blinked the tears away and typed a quick reply to her best friend.

I will, and btw exclusive mile high club – gross. There's a pilot and a stewardess here! ttyl - B

A second later the message was sent. And as she put the phone away she was bothered by just how easily she has lied to her friend.

But then again her whole world was nothing more than a perfectly blended mixture of lies that created an illusion of progress. It made her believe she was going somewhere, ever changing into someone better. It made her forget that even though time has passed in reality she has stayed exactly the same. Sure in time her dresses got more sophisticated (or maybe just bigger in size), her schemes more profound, calculating and efficient but in the end, if she was being honest with herself, she was still the same insecure girl she was when she was twelve, checking her headband fit perfectly twice in the mirror before going to school, just in case, worrying about what other kids of the UES would think of her outfit or the way she looked (she really should stop eating that non fat yogurt in the morning and stick with just coffee/water instead).

There was no space left to breathe and sometimes she wondered if there ever will be. Things didn't change and neither did people (especially the ones that lived on UES) and she was a fool to expect that from him. In fact she didn't want him to change because that guy, with all his bad and good sides was the one she fell in love with.

Her world was carefully built tower of cards founded on lies, the one that was almost destroyed by him awhile ago. And now she feared it would happen again. Were they just another tower of lies in her life, that he was about to uncover and cause its fall? She feared that this time she wouldn't be able to walk away from it easily, with nothing more than a shrug, pushing the fallen cards away. No, this time they'd cut deep into her skin like glass and leave her bleeding on the floor in her new Chanel dress. The irony of it all did not escape her as she walked up to the bar.

Chuck Bass, the source of all her troubles, was currently sitting at the bar sipping on his drink. On any other day she would probably be at home thinking of a plan that would cause his downfall, make him pay for leaving her there like that (yes, people didn't change and she was a Queen B after all) but somehow she ended up here instead.

At the bar of Palace Hotel in NYC, standing completely motionless and staring in his direction unsure of what to do. Her hair was falling down in mild curls, held in place by a dark colored hat and she wore a knee length dark blue dress that hugged her curves perfectly. The look was completed with four inch Christian Louboutin heals. To the hotel guests she looked like a typical UES girl, nothing short of perfection. And on the outside maybe that was the case because some habits really did die hard, but inside she was anything but.

Still she felt awfully calm. Because in a world she ruled until recently, she was surrounded by liars and people who would do anything to become her friends and there was no one she could trust to be honest with her, and tell her what they really thought. Well, except him. Until today that is.

Chuck Bass. Her savior and a ruiner, all wrapped up in one very self indulgent, egoistic, at times completely shallow individual.

With her head held high she approached the bar and sat at the stool next to him ordering a drink. It was more than obvious he has heard her but he remained in his previous position, inspecting his drink thoroughly. She noticed that there was a battered bouquet of red roses placed on a stool beside him and briefly wondered what that was about.

She ordered a martini and the waiter brought her drink quickly and placed it in front of her with a napkin and a warm smile that she didn't bother to return. She was too tired for empty pleasantries after spending an hour waiting for him at the helipad in the cold wind. Suddenly she felt so very cold wishing he would just look at her.

"So did you talk to Bart?"

He took a sip of his drink and he gave her an answer "Yes, we had an interesting chat."

"And then suddenly you realized you have this fear of flying so you thought a drink could help. Or maybe you just wanted to get drunk so you'd forget about that ten hour commercial flight you'd have to take to Ital…"

"Not exactly." was his only reply, as he continued to take more interest in his Jack Daniels than her. He refused to look at her, only confirming her suspicions that something was bothering him.

"Could you enlighten me then please, because I'm pretty much out of ideas." she said, trying very hard not too sound sarcastic or bitchy but it was hard to do so at the moment. She wasn't a very patient person, particularly when a boy she loved, that stood her up didn't even have decency to look her in the eyes and say whatever he had to say.

"You're better not knowing, trust me." he said, his voice all too quiet, and then took another sip of his drink placing an empty glass at the bar. He gestured to the bartender for a refill.

Her nerves were getting thinner by a second and she had to try really hard to keep her voice even and as calm as possible instead of yelling at him, "Can you just talk to me?"

"I thought you knew me, Waldorf. I'm not really a talk and pour your heart out kind of guy, unless there's some payoff included like maybe…"

"Can you not think about sex for one minute of your life?"

"I could but why bother?"

"Because I asked you to." she snapped, cursing him silently for getting the best of her and making her raise her voice and show him how much all this really affected her.

This finally got his attention and he turned towards her, his eyes locking with hers. She was determined not to say anything else and let him make the next move and all he wanted to do was kiss her and forget today even happened.

Talking was overrated anyways.

But he couldn't. A month ago he would do so without a single thought but now he remained at his seat trying hard not to look at her strawberry glossed lips and to look at her dark eyes instead. If he was gonna make this work he had to do what she asked him to.

"When I sent you that massage I wasn't with my father." he confessed, seeing her flinch at his words but she remained quiet, letting him continue.

"I was with Amelia, a tall leggy blonde designer assistant that works for Lilly. I offered her a glass of Chardonnay and asked her to go see my room…" he stopped, taking a breath "…work related of course." he added then, sarcasm dripping on every word "She started explaining something about the designs and wall colors and what she had planned to do with it, I didn't really pay attention. All I could think about was how short that skirt she wore was and when would it be convenient to kiss her." he finished not really daring to look into her eyes "But I didn't."

Blair looked at him, swallowing hard "Why didn't you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Take a wild guess." he said, taking a sip of his drink, as a laugh escaped his lips.

"And that's all you have to say after that little tale of yours?"

"It's not an excuse. It's just with us…it just got too serious too fast." he explained "Things were just starting to get out of…"

"…control." she finished for him, all to familiar with the term.

He nodded in agreement "And what fun is the game if you can't control the outcome, right Waldorf?" he said with a smirk on his lips.

"Right." she agreed. Sometimes he knew her too well.

"So…where does that leave us?" he asked, playing with his glass of scotch.

Maybe we should change the game then, she thought looking at his dark eyes. And then she said something that surprised even her. "I want to go to Tuscany." she stated simply as he stared at her, trying to hide just how shocked by her words he actually was.

If she told him she was going home to plan his destruction he wouldn't be half as surprised as he was by what she has just said. But it was to be expected really, just because he decided to abandon her it didn't mean she would cancel her summer plans. She was Blair Waldorf after all. And no guy would mess with her perfectly planned out life. Not even Chuck Bass.

"Guess I do awe you that much." he agreed. "I'll talk to Bart tomorrow; see if the plane is available. But didn't you plan to go to France?" he asked, looking a bit defeated but trying to hide it.

"That's not what I meant. I want to go to Tuscany…" she repeated.

"But why…"

"With you." she completed her thought.

She regretted not having her camera with her because the look on his face was priceless. Complete disbelief, something Chuck rarely allowed himself to show because not a lot of things could surprise him.

"You know if this is your way of making me drink my own medicine I think it's working pretty well, I must say." he said with a smirk."Where are you planning to ditch me, some small village in Tuscany? I surely deserve that."

"I'm not." she denied "But believe me I'm working on that one. Don't think you can get away without any consequences."

"Oh, I wouldn't expect anything less from you." he admitted honestly "But could this help redeem me just a little?" he asked pulling that bouquet she saw earlier and giving it to her.

"Seriously Bass, I expect a lot more from you than a tattered bouquet of flowers. Possibly something with diamonds and definitely something that doesn't look like you picked it up on the street."

"But it's the thought that counts." he tried.

"That charm of yours does not work with me and you know it."

"I beg to differ, Waldorf." he said, moving closer.

"Of course you do, Bass." she retorted, trying not to roll her eyes.

"You don't believe me."

"You don't stand a chance with me."

"And you, Ms. Waldorf are forgetting one of the basic rules of the game…" he said and she looked at him in challenge "…never underestimate your enemy."

"The same goes for you Bass."

She could feel his eyes traveling up her body as he said "Oh, I wouldn't dare. I may be a lot of things but stupid isn't one of them."

"Then how could you ever think I'd buy that text message you sent me?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"To be quite honest I didn't. I suspected you'd come here. I was just hoping I'd be a lot less sober when you did come to tell me what a bastard I am." he said, finishing his drink.

"I'm sorry I ruined your plans."

He looked at her for what seemed like forever and then said in that low, husky tone "I'm not."

She feels her breath hitch in her throat as her eyes lock with his and she thinks maybe she can let it go, give him a chance, give them a second chance. Because really, he could've lied to her, give her some lame excuse but he chose not to. He decided to be honest knowing perfectly well what the consequences might be.

And ever since they were little, in so many ways he was her anchor, keeping her from drifting away from the shore and getting lost in the sea of lies and pretense of Upper East Side. And that really should count for something.

That whole making up, breaking up game they were always playing was getting old anyways. Too predictable. Maybe they could try something new for a change. Like a real relationship.

She smiled at him ordering another martini with two olives. What the hell, they needed to celebrate. It wasn't every day Blair Waldorf made such life altering, risky decision to trust Chuck Bass of all people.

Not exactly a knight in a shining armor, but somehow she didn't mind it as much as he slowly run his fingers up her arm sending shivers down her spine and she thought she'd melt under that intense glare.

"I'm not either." she said. And she meant it.

(the end)