AN: I seem to be into family-centric shit lately. Babies, parents, etc. Whatever, I like babies, okay. And this episode made me like Bart more, especially the idea of Bart trying to be a father. You might want to watch out for fic about Chuck going to kindergarten in a suit.
Also, I switched a few things around, moved a proposal a little, made some shit up.
Unnecessary explanation of details: Evelyn/Elizabeth implies he proposes the first time after Chuck is born, but for my purposes it works out best this way. Oh, and I made up a last name for her. The actress who plays her is Mexican-American, but I like to think Evelyn is French, and her accent could be kind of anything, so Martin is kind of multi-national? IDK. Oh, and a place of origin for Bart. I kind of assume he grew up in the Midwest, lower-middle class, and subsequently made lots of money and moved to New York.
"It was Bart who couldn't go through with it. Once he saw his son, that was it." -Elizabeth Fisher, Gossip Girl, The Lady Vanished
The night his son was born, Bart Bass hadn't heard from Evelyn Martin in months.
When she told him she was pregnant he had, for about half a second, seen himself and Evelyn, married. Their son or daughter being born, teething, taking wobbly first steps, going to kindergarten. Despite the way he lived, he'd been brought up in the Midwest and there were certain morals not even a life of luxury in New York City could wash away. The only option was to propose.
Evelyn was not of the same opinion. She'd told him she wouldn't marry him; she didn't love him; she was giving the baby up for adoption.
It was, therefore, a surprise when he got the phone call in the middle of the night. "Mister Bass, this is Lucy at Mount Sinai hospital—" he'd almost put down the phone in annoyance "—Evelyn Martin is asking for you." He sat straight up in bed, suddenly interested.
The driver brought the car around for Bart, used to the odd hours of a bachelor.
Evelyn looked resigned when he arrived. Dark hair pulled back messily, bags under her eyes, she'd merely gestured to the hospital-provided bassinet near the bed.
"I thought you might want to see him." Exhaustion had made her accent stronger. She looked out the window and tried to seem uninterested.
The nurse who had brought Bart to the room, a blonde woman with a round face and smile lines, went to pick the child up. She brought the child—a boy—to him and smiled encouragingly.
"You can take him."
Bart cast one tentative glance in the child's direction, and that was it. He was lost. Even though his son was squirming and fussing petulantly, he wanted to hold him. The nurse placed his baby in his arms and made sure he was supporting the head properly before leaving the room. The squirming had stopped and his child blinked up at him, taking in this new face.
Bart tentatively ran his free hand over the baby's downy crop of dark hair. His son fussed a little.
Evelyn looked on, and knew she'd made the right decision in having the hospital call Bart. The look on his face was one of wonder and love—exactly the expression a new father was supposed to have. That it appeared on the face of Bart Bass, billionaire, business tycoon, womanizer, was almost comical. The smallest of smiles tugged at her mouth.
Evelyn Martin may not have wanted the child she'd given birth to, but she wasn't heartless. Nobody could wish on their child the prospect of foster homes and a childhood full of incompleteness at not knowing one's parents. She wanted to believe that Bart Bass would come for his son, and though she had not expected him to, there he stood, gazing down at his son, clearly enamored of the fussy little bundle. She knew that Bart Bass wouldn't suddenly become SuperDad. He was still emotionally distant, philandering, business-oriented. But she also knew that he wanted this child, and that already made him a better parent than she.
She didn't protest when Bart wanted to keep the baby. She didn't even reprimand him for renewing his proposal. She told Bart to tell his son—Charles—that she was dead. Let him think they'd loved one another, that his conception had been something out of a fairy-tale, but don't let him think there was any chance she would come back. All the proper papers were signed, and she no longer had claim to the boy. Bart would arrange for a nanny, and in a few days the baby would come to live with him.
The truth was that the child in his arms was already his son, and had never been hers. The only thing she ever gave him, in the end, was his name, and even then only one of them. He was his father's son from the beginning.
One look, that was it.