A/N: So this is continuing the Kings SL. If you've seen this episode, a ton of dialogue is obviously taken from it, just because it was so good. So pretty much all dialogue is taken from that. So... this fic could end after this chapter, or, I could take some other ideas I have and go in a radically different direction than Kings was going (that I know of.) If I'm ending this fic, I'll just have en epilogue after this. If people want it to go on, then I"ll do that. It was a really good plot device and an awesome line from Jack Bejimen, so I borrrowed the character Thomasina just for that. I am really apprehensive about releasing this because its really not by best work, but give it your best shot.
Summary:"I cut her out of my heart," Chuck said with melancholy. "That was what my father would have wanted so I did it. She never would have hurt me. She actually cared, and yet I listened to you and I destroyed her."
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Characters and likeness belongs to Gossip Girl. Story lines and dialogue comes completely from Kings.
I need you to know that behind the lie, I see you. For who you really are. And I love you. And I know you love me. And I think that everyone should know it. No more hiding, Jack. You're too brave to be such a coward. You deserve to be who you really are.
Letters were a hard thing to write. Blair knew this. She didn't know if he would even read it or burn it. She didn't know anything anymore except what she had to do. It was the only way. So she sent the heartbreaking letter to him, in hopes that he would believe her.
"And what in the hell is this, Charles?"
Chuck didn't like that tone. It wasn't the tone of disappointment itself, it was that some stupid advisor would deign to take that tone with him. He hadn't heard that tone since his father. And no one could speak to him like that except his father.
"You tell me," Chuck said dryly, looking skeptically at the letter. No one sent him letters. No one would ever conceive of sending him a letter. No one except...
"How did you get this?" Chuck asked after drinking in every deathly beautiful word.
"Intercepted," he replied.
His advisor sighed. "Thomasina. Good thing it was brought to my attention."
Thomasina. Damn that woman. Just because his father hired her she thought she could meddle.
"Because they are obvious lies, Chuck. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Of course," Chuck said unsteadily.
"Did you know her?"
"Not well," Chuck said, his mask in place.
"Right," he nodded. "Someone just obsessed with you, convinced that you loved her. This... ill woman just wants to drag you down."
"I could talk to her," Chuck suggested. He wanted nothing more than to speak to her after everything that was in the letter.
"No, no," his advisor waved it off. "Not possible."
"I'm sure we could work something--"
"She's dead, Chuck," he said blandly.
Chuck's heart stopped. He couldn't breathe.
God, he couldn't breathe.
Dead didn't make any sense. She was too strong to be dead. She put up with him. She had the fieriest temper he had ever encountered. It matched his own. She could see through all his lies. It wasn't in her to just die on him. She wouldn't leave him. She couldn't.
"She committed suicide."
He was still talking, and Chuck was dying. If only it were for real this time.
Chuck started at the tapping on the tinted window of his limousine. He eased the window down so it only revealed his cold, hard eyes.
"Her funeral is about to begin," the reverend said helpfully.
Chuck just started ahead. If he didn't believe that she was truly gone, then she couldn't be... could she?
"It's an open service," he prodded. "All are welcome."
Chuck just eased the window back up again, blocking out every hateful feeling in his body. Someone had to pay for this. But if this was what she wanted, then how could he?
It was raining. She always loved the rain. There was an uncertainty that she could connect with. And he could connect with her. Chuck stepped out, decked in his sober clothing as he felt the rain drench to his bones. His evil bones.
The euology was delivered by her mother. Someone who didn't love her at all. He knew this. He knew that he knew Blair Waldorf better than anyone.
She was fiery and passionate. Her wit was biting and he hurt her the most. And she loved him most of all. It hurt. She would always tell him the truth and all he gave her was an early grave.
"Well, well." Her beautiful lips turned into an attractive sneer. "Look who has decided to grace me with his presence."
"Can I come in?"
"You're Chuck Bass," she mocked his drawl. "Can't you do anything?"
"Fine," he sighed, but secretly loved the way that only she would give him a hard time. "Do you want me to be here, or should I leave?"
"What the hell?" Blair sighed, standing aside so he could enter. "Its not like I have anything better to do."
"Glad to hear it," he replied, stepping in.
"You're not supposed to be here," she said warningly, leaving him in the foyer as she walked towards the kitchen.
"Says who?" he asked, following her.
"Me," she said bluntly. "Remember that last confrontation we had? I broke a vase throwing it at your head."
"Lucky me you have terrible aim."
"You can't keep doing this," Blair said in defeat. "You can't get everything you want just because you want it."
"But I want you," Chuck said, leaning in.
"Not for long, you won't," she replied. "I'm just a prize."
"We've already slept together, Waldorf," he reminded her. "And I have no intention of backing off."
"When you inherit your business, that will be a different story," she said. "You're Chuck Bass and I scare people. You know I do. You won't want people to think that I'm influencing you."
"I don't really care what other people think."
"That's a lie."
"Maybe," Chuck said admittitedly. "But maybe its worth it."
"Doubtful," she said lowly. "And if you came to just get me into bed and split, you have another thing coming."
"What if I stay?"
"And if I let you stay, what would be in it for me?" Blair asked playfully.
Chuck couldn't rein in his laughter.
"I thought my mere presence would be your reward for keeping me."
"Your ego knows no bounds," she sighed lightly. She let him kiss her anyway as they did the familiar footwork that led down the path they knew so well.
"Why do you think I let you say here?" she asked with loss of breath when the sheets finally stilled.
"I thought we went over this," he said, just as breathlessly. She was a minx.
"Well, I was going to tell you the real reason," she offered.
"Do tell," he smirked.
"I was just wondering why you spend your time with people who don't even know you."
"Not the real you, anyway."
"And you do?" Chuck asked, raising his eyebrows.
"The real you," she said. "I see behind the lie. You're not some cold, heartless bastard. Well, you are. But there's more than that. You understand me. And I love... that," she finished, well aware of his insecurities about love.
"I'll tell you the truth," he said huskily. "No one is as painfully honest as you are to me."
"Then you're a masochist," Blair said simply. "And I know you won't say it back."
"Understandable," he nodded. "But even I won't, it doens't make it any less true."
"Maybe," she said. "But that doesn't answer the question as to why you associate with those people who are just using you."
"I have to act a certain way or I won't be accepted."
"You don't have to," she said softly. "I accept you for who you are. You're too brave to be such a coward."
He grasped her wrist suddenly, almost painfully. But she never shrank away. She never did and she never would.
"You deserve to be who you really are. I thought that was why you were with me," she replied snarkily. "Because of my honesty."
"I didn't say that," he answered roughly. "I just said that you were."
"What's the difference?"
"I have no idea," Chuck groaned into her mouth again.
Chuck didn't realize that the rain wasn't still pouring down onto him until he looked over and saw Thomasina, covering him with her umbrella. Loyally.
He didn't say anything. Words would come later. And he certainly didn't allude her to the deadly emotion that was brewing inside.
"Do you have any idea what it will take to cover this up?" his advisor spat. Chuck remainded silent. "To appear at that whore's funeral--"
The advisor looked up at him in surprise.
"Her name was Blair," Chuck said, trying to reign in his anger. Protocol called for him to tear this guy's head off. But that was the point. He knew that she would be the death of him, but it seems that it was the other way around. He never wanted to love her. Everyone he loved went and died on him. And it was happening again.
"Why does it matter?" he asked acidly. "She was trying to destroy you.
"She was trying to save me," Chuck said.
"I wasn't aware that your life was in danger."
"Save me from me," Chuck reiterated. "All she did was love me and I hurt her the most. She's dead because of me."
"You said you didn't know her," he said darkly.
"I lied," he responded. "She's everything. She loved me. And I loved her. More than anything."
"This will not do," he said, pondering. "You did not love her. She would destroy everything. Do you know what would happen if someone... like that entered your life?"
"Like what?" Chuck asked dangerously. "Beautiful? Witty? Charming? Smart? She was me. And I loved her. I loved her."
"No," was the angry reply. "Just... no."
"I cut her out of my heart," Chuck said with melancholy. "That was what my father would have wanted so I did it. She never would have hurt me. She actually cared, and yet I listened to you and I destroyed her. And now the only person who truly saw me and loved me is dead."
"Good. Now you won't be distracted."
"No," Chuck finally said. He could finally say it. "No. This is who I am."
And he walked out of the room.
He heard the door opening and he knew it was her.
"When I am fully in power," Chuck said, not turning from the window to greet her, "and am completely in charge of this business, I will do everything in my power to reinstate the guilloutine."
He turned to greet Thomasina. She didn't react to his always pompous arrogance. So like a Bass.
"Just for you, Thomasina."
"That's not surprising," she replied. "Just like your father."
"I served him like I serve you. I wouldn't surprise me that I would lose my life doing it."
Chuck rolled his eyes at the sentiment. Nothing really made sense anymore. Or mattered. She was playing his little make believe game. She wanted to die? Fine. There was enough of that going around anyway.
"I'd thought you'd want this," she said, handing over the letter. "I got it from him before he could burn it."
"Why would I want this?" Chuck sneered.
"Because unlike your so called advisor, its pretty obvious to me this wasn't some scheme."
"That's enough," Chuck cut in. "I don't want to hear it."
"Very well," she said. She turned to leave. "I knew, you know. About her. And with her at your side, you could have done anything. She wouldn't have brought the company down."
Chuck didn't want to hear it. He already knew it was true. And he was stupid becoming a sheep.
He never would have let himself break down. He didn't cry at his father's funeral or his wake. He didn't cry when he found out about the accident or at the hospital. But he did cry. Once. And he did so with her arms wrapped around him. Like it should be. Forever.