When I look into the mirror
No happiness is present here
Not supposed to whine,
Not supposed to cry
Try to hold it in, but not this time

'Have yourself a merry little Christmas may your heart be light…'

Chuck grunted as he surfaced from unconsciousness to the warbling strains of an old crooner piercing his skull.

'From now on, may all your troubles be out of sight,'

White light pouring in from the open curtains burnt at his eyelids and he fumbled around blindly, reaching for a pillow. He pulled it firmly over his head and tried desperately to slip into the darkness again. It was easier that way. Dark, cold, numb. He thought nothing, he felt nothing. It was easier.

'Mr Chuck? Are you awake Mr Chuck?'

He froze, his body tensing in amongst his sheets. He heard his footsteps drawing closer to the bed until his valet's voice came just above his ear.

'Mr Chuck? Are you awake?'

'I am now, aren't I Havier?' he snarled, rolling over.

The valet leapt back as if Chuck had burnt him and swept into a low bow.

'I'm very sorry Mr Chuck,' he murmured, 'Very sorry,'

Chuck ignored him and rolled back onto his front. His stomach contracted painfully, protesting to the residual scotch still in his system and he curled tighter. He just needed everything to go away.

'Maybe you would like some food Mr Chuck?'

Chuck growled low under his breath. This valet had nerve.

'No. I said no food,' he snapped, 'Bring me a bottle of cognac,'

'Mr Chuck…' the valet said hesitantly.

'Do I need to remind you of your duties?'

The servant was humbled to silence and without another protest hopped from the room to fetch him the brandy. Chuck rolled back over onto his stomach and buried himself into the pillow willing the darkness to come to him again. Regardless the cheery music continued to hammer at his brain, mocking him ruthlessly.

'Have yourself a merry little Christmas make the Yuletide gay…'

Chuck ground his teeth tightly. Which fuck-wit employee turned on Sinatra in his suite?

'From now on our troubles will be miles away…'

Suddenly the definite sound of glass connecting with wood tore Chuck's mind from the torturous carol. He rolled onto his side, fumbling for the glass, making a point to ignore the retreating employee.

'Havier?' Chuck called into the darkness, 'Shut the blinds. And turn off that fucking music,'

As the merry light of the happy, celebrating world below him was swept away Chuck downed his first glass of brandy. As he started on the second the merry people no longer mattered and he was one step closer to his own, personal hell where he belonged.

I can't take it
This is the time to smile,
I can't fake it
Please allow me the chance now
To break it down

'Mr Chuck, there is someone here to see you,'

Chuck was ripped from the spiralling depths of his drunkenness by Havier once again.

'What part of leave me the fuck alone do you people not understand?'

'Certainly Mr Chuck,'

The valet disappeared and moments later Chuck heard the sounds of hissed argument.

'No…no, Mr Chuck, there is someone who is here to see you,' his valet's repeated.

'Didn't I tell them and you to fucking well leave me alone?' Chuck hissed venomously.


More insistent arguments muffled through the door followed and the valet reappeared.

'Ms Blair says she won't leave until you've seen her,'

His lips curled up into another snarl, 'Tell Ms Blair that I don't want to see her. I thought I made that perfectly clear,'

'Certainly sir,'

Havier disappeared again only to reappear moments later.

'Ms Blair says that she'll wait until you're sociable and then she called you something that…I'm not comfortable with repeating,'

'Tell Ms Blair I'm drunk and I intend to stay that way until my own death. So, if she really wants to stay for that, then by all means allow her to stay,'

Havier murmured something to Blair beyond the door and the relayed her message again, 'She said that you better get it over with quick then. She has a manicure at ten,'

Chuck allowed a bitter chuckle, envisaging the girl herself snapping those words before he nodded.

'That's fine with me,'

And with that he rolled back over, summoning unconsciousness once again.

It's not snow, It's rain coming down
And the lights are cool,
But they burn out
And I can't pull off the cheer
Not this year

When he awoke again he instantly became hyperaware of another presence in the room. There was someone…someone.

Preparing the yell at Havier again he opened his mouth when he was stopped by a small hand. The tiny, soft hand appeared at his shoulder and he looked up.

There stood Blair, her deep eyes filled soft concern as she stared down at him.

'Waldorf,' he groaned, 'Didn't I tell you to leave me alone?'

'Didn't I tell you that I would go anywhere with you?' she quipped dryly, 'Move over,'

Chuck rolled with disgust. She won. She would always win.

She nestled herself on his bed, kicking off the Loubitons on her feet so she could cross her legs. Chuck reached for the remaining cognac only for it to be stolen out of his hands.

'Waldorf, I'm drinking. I told you that,'

'I know,' she shrugged, 'But I think I've earned a drink,'

The faintest lingering of amusement flashed to Chuck as he watched the Upper East Side Princess swig brandy straight from the bottle. She grimaced and swallowed it, then handed the bottle back to him.

Chuck murmured vague gratitude, swallowing the burning mouthful.

'What day is it?' he questioned, scraping his hand across his eyes.

'Thursday,' she said simply, pulling her coiffed curls off her neck.

'Christmas? You've been here since yesterday?'

'So I've heard,'

'Don't you have…a family to be with?'

'Yes, but what with Cyrus and my mother constantly at each other, and Aaron and Serena in Argentina it certainly makes for an unpleasant holiday,'

'I don't need your pity Waldorf,' he growled.

'Who said you were getting any pity? Trust me, being in here, a room which smells like alcohol and…I don't want to know what else is better than being around my mother and Cyrus,'

Chuck fell silent, draining the last of the bottle hoping that she would disappear if he did. The past few weeks had worked that way for him. If he didn't want it he would drink a little bit more and it would be gone.

He knew what she was here for. She wanted to talk, to make him open up to her the way he had done so vulnerably the night of his father's funeral. He'd needed someone to love him, to let him know that he wasn't so worthless that both of his parents, the only people he'd ever needed, hadn't hesitated to abandon him.

But now…now he just wanted everything to go away.

Blair didn't speak, just sat beside calmly him as Chuck ordered the valet to bring more brandy, with glasses this time.

She sat pertly amongst the pillows on his bed and didn't say a word the whole time. It looked so wrong, the English Rose, sweet and beautiful, fragile and breakable sitting on the bed where so many unspeakable things had been done. He felt like he was tainting her by keeping her there.

Havier entered with the alcohol and handed it to Blair. She smiled sweetly at him before speaking, 'Havier, could you get the Chef to bring us some grilled cheese? I think Chuck here really would like to eat,'

Chuck growled low in his throat. She knew that was exactly what he didn't want to do. That would only slow the death by alcohol down.


'What Chuck? While I'm sitting here on your bed you're not going to die, ok?'

Don't know, don't know
If you can hear me
I will, I will
Speak louder for you

Blair alternated sips of the brandy between bites of her sandwich. She barely looked at him instead her eyes remained trained out the window, on the swirling snow outside.

Finally her eyes snapped down at him, 'Bass, I'll shove the sandwich down your throat if I have to,'

Chuck ignored her and continued to gulp his drink. She wouldn't.

'Bass…' she said warningly, picking up his plate.

'Fine Crazy Bitch,' he muttered, snatching the sandwich off her.

For show he stared at her as he swallowed two mouthfuls of the food. There. The time since he'd last eaten a proper became suddenly apparent as his stomach whined gratefully at the return of solids. Petulantly he finished off half the sandwich before shoving the plate away. He couldn't give in.

Blair quirked an eyebrow at him, 'Better,'

They lapsed into another silence in which Chuck contemplated Blair's presence. She loved Christmas. She was one of those freakish people who genuinely enjoyed the trite spirit and forced cheer at this time of year. For her to forfeit her own Christmas to spend it with him…it meant something. Something that he was afraid to understand.

'What are you doing here Waldorf?' he said finally.

'What do you mean?'

'You've spent all of Christmas Eve camped outside my bedroom door and now you're spending your entire Christmas in my bedroom. Why?'

She shrugged, 'Look Chuck…It's…nothing, forget about it,'

'Blair,' he said insistently.

She sighed heavily, 'Chuck, no one should be alone at Christmas. I…I wanted to be there for you,'

She ducked her head to avoid him seeing the delicate blush creeping up her cheeks and Chuck's heart wrenched. Him. She forfeited her favourite holiday so that he wouldn't be alone. So many words sprung to his lips, a jumble of everything thing he felt and wanted to say. But he still couldn't get a simple "thanks" out.

Blair understood though. She always did.

She set down her plate and simply shifted closer to him. That was sheerly enough for Chuck, the closest human contact he'd had since his father's funeral. Everything swelled within him and the words she had uttered to him returned.

'Say it again,' he demanded urgently, 'Say it again to me,'

'What?' she murmured.

He turned to her, his fingers clumsily grasping her face, 'Say it…say those words again to me,'

No more whispering
Are you listening
I am pleading

She sighed, realisation sweeping over her, 'Chuck...' she began softly, her hesitation evident, 'I…I… I love you.'

He collapsed into her, his position so eerily similar to the one weeks before. She didn't make any sudden movements, any gestures to hug him or hold him, instead stroked her hand through his hair.

'I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,' she chanted softly.

Chuck found himself surrounded by her, her soft skin, her delicate scent, the tender mantra that she echoed over and over again. She didn't stop, she didn't let go, she didn't cease at all.

She was his constant. The one thing that had and would always be there for him. She had said so herself but he refused to acknowledge it. Now he was depending on her.

At some point, he didn't know when: minutes, hours and time became undecipherable, but he was welcomed into the black again. His personal hell seemed just a little less deep and impenetrable while Blair rocked him back and forth.

I can't take it
This is the time to smile,
I can't fake it
Please allow me the chance now
To break it down

Hours after Chuck had finally fallen asleep Blair ceased her chant. Her throat was hoarse and sore and her lips were cracked and dry. This was what she had come here for. She sacrificed the presents and the merriment for this moment. The moment he finally succumbed to her efforts and allowed her to help him.

She knew when he awoke that it wouldn't be much different, that she'd barely broken the first barrier, but the knowledge that what she did and what she could do could make a difference to him and his suffering was enough.

Wearily, Blair brought the brandy glass up to her lips allowing it to wet her dry throat and lips. She swallowed a mouthful and held the glass up toward the window and the sparkling New York City beyond it in a toast.

'Merry Christmas,' she murmured.

It's not snow, It's rain coming down
And the lights are cool,
But they burn out
And I can't pull off the cheer
Not this year
Not this year
Not this year

The song is "Not This Year" by Aly and Aj. Reviews are the best Christmas presents a writer can recieve!