A/N: OMG Canadian promo. Just saying.

So here's the deal. I don't really know what the consensus is for me to continue this into season 4. I have approached the idea for doing season 4 allusions, but I'm not really sure if it will happen. Personally, Reminiscence was really exhausting, so if I even consider continuing on, it won't be for awhile. And obviously if no one really cares to read it, then it won't happen.

Anyway, here's the last chapter of the fic! I really hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. All quotes and characters will always be the property of Gossip Girl. Thank you so much to my amazing beta comewhatmay.x who went on this arduous ride with me and put up with this monstrosity. And thank you of course to those of you who are still reading. It means a lot.


You're not kicking me out into the street? Lucky me.

Hey, some people don't get the offer.

"Get out."

He had barely rolled off of her when the words spilled from his mouth. It wasn't anything he could control. He couldn't contain his disgust for himself.

His already feeble and chemical induced excuse for euphoria was slipping away and he could remember again.

He could remember it all.

He was lucky. She was one of the ones that didn't protest. There was some who actually had the audacity to attempt to crawl back into his bed.

It was even more repulsive than the disgust he felt for himself.

He ignored the nameless girl, already buttoning his shirt and ready to pour a tall glass of shame and an even taller one of scotch.

"It was nice meeting you."

Chuck hesitated outside of his door, met with big blue eyes that were filled with judgment. He was fully prepared to roll his own at his soon-to-be-stepsister, who had a sudden interest in meddling in his affairs.

The elevator closed behind the conquest and just as he was about to reach a destination of full inebriation, he didn't have to wonder.

Serena's sudden care to his comings, goings and doings was suddenly very apparent.

As apparent as how quickly his pathetic heart halted at the sight of those enormous dark eyes.

"Do you even try to not be selfish?" Blair asked coolly, rising from her position next to Serena. "Or do you not bother finishing them off anymore?"

"If you wanted so badly to be finished," Chuck sneered, "you need to take a number, just like everyone else."

"I'm sorry, B," Serena cut in, eying Chuck stonily, "I didn't know he would be here tonight."

"Why wouldn't he?" Blair asked coolly, never taking her eyes off of him. "This is where the alcohol is."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Chuck couldn't help but sneer.

"It is when it's the only thing you need for completion," Blair bit back.

"As I remember it," Chuck said silkily, making his way slowly towards her, "you used to need me very much in that department."

Blair stiffened, not expecting him to make a physical move towards her. But she didn't need Serena to be her protector.

"Thank god I got over that temporary insanity," Blair rolled her eyes. He knew it was just a sparring at that point, but it was the first real contact they'd had since those admittedly cruel words he'd slung in the bar.

He couldn't help but like it.

He liked how she played with him.

Serena took her best friend by the hand, leading her past Chuck to get to the blonde's bedroom. Blair's body was just as lithe and graceful as he remembered as she slithered past him.


"You're the only one I let linger all over me in the back of my limo after you collapsed with satiation."

His hand grasped her forearm, and she felt stretched between her best friend and him, Serena's hand still pulling on hers.

"Am I supposed to swoon with flattery?" she asked.

He let his grip loosen. He always let her believe she had won.

He could feel Serena relax as she continued on.

"No," he finally answered and Blair hesitated again. "When I say that's how it was for us every time is when you swoon."

He knew Serena had very little knowledge about her best friend's liaison with the Devil. He did have to give it to her, because despite her obvious curiosity, she still pulled Blair along.

"You say that to all the girls."

Serena was insistent, but Blair couldn't help but indulge in the urge that always begged her to spar with him.

"If I let them into the limo, maybe," he said. "But whatever I do, which will most definitely cause your distaste, you will never be evicted from it."

"Someone catch me, my knees are weak," Blair mocked.

"You were the only one who understood," he said, unperturbed.

He liked her glance of annoyance.

He raised his glass of scotch to her. "Until next time."

"Forget him, B," Serena said. "He's just being Chuck."

"Don't I wish I could."


Blair, I thought you didn't love me anymore. I didn't care if I lived or died.

It wasn't the first time he had stood teetering on the edge of a building. Although this building was the Empire State Building and not just a mere club, the feeling was still the same. The peonies that used to be in his hand had been so viciously discarded, because there was one truth that was painfully obvious.

This was the end.

He looked over the edge of the building, noting the guardrails, appreciating the fact that it wouldn't be nearly as easy to accidentally fall, even with a bottle of Jack in hand.

No one was here to pull him back.

He wouldn't do it. Not because it wouldn't bring relief, but because he couldn't care enough to. He was so exhausted that even making the decision to end it all meant nothing. Everything meant nothing.

If he spent the rest of his days drinking himself to death with conquests and the like, it wouldn't matter. But if he crossed the street right at that moment and got hit by a cab, he would be just as apathetic. It didn't matter.

Nothing did.

He couldn't stay. The sea of people walking below mesmerized him, but it was just too much. A better man would have stayed.

But a better man wouldn't have loved her that much. He couldn't stay because of the pain. He couldn't drag out the long moments of waiting to find out that she really wasn't coming. That was even worse.

It was his curse to love her too much, too obscenely. He knew for the rest of his life everything would be a blur. Even the scotch he consumed had lost its taste. He didn't see faces or colors. He promised her that he would close his heart to her forever.

That was a joke. Even if he had wanted to do so, his heart forbade him from it. He didn't have the ability. She was all he had. And without her, he was just an empty shell.

So instead, he just closed his heart to everything.

It may have been unhealthy, but this was the way it always had been. This was the way he was before her. No care, no remorse. The only love he had was the hesitant affection for his father and that was no better.

He saw where his future lay and it was bleak. She made him better. He was the best version of himself when he was with her.

No one seemed to understand that. Everyone saw the cruelty and pain that surrounded the both of them like an aura, but no one saw them when they were alone. No one could ever understand them.

He didn't remember how he had gotten back to his penthouse. The place was haunted and would forever be tainted for him. He had risked everything to get it back—to get his father's meaningless and irrelevant appreciation—and it hadn't even been worth it. Now he would be forever reminded of how he killed them just for this place.

He was very aware of a roof that was so conveniently located, but it didn't matter. Whether he died that very night so melodramatically, or weeks from now from the inevitable alcohol poisoning, it didn't matter.

He was going to die eventually. And he was going to die without her.

That was the point.

He just sat down. No substance could dull the pain. It only muddled his mind.

It was just as painful as it was before—a sixteen year old watching his best friend and a very recent lover pulling at each other's clothes on their way up to a hotel room. It was just as painful as his father's death, and just as painful as her rejection.

It would never lessen. In a better world, the pain could recede. He could be a normal person like his friends, who brushed away heartache like tears; one touch and you would have never known it was there to begin with.

It would never fade.

She was everything to him. She was his beginning and end.


Now it really was.


The end.

Last Breath

Take me to a bank. I will get you the money. Just let me keep the box.

It was something so small, so simple. But it was something he felt that he had always known. He walked back into the penthouse, almost grateful for Gossip Girl's timing because Nate didn't ask what was in the bag.

But it could have been anything. Everyone knew he had a penchant for buying Blair pretty things when he didn't know what else to do.

This was different.

This was something he had always known.

Their first reconciliation had occurred on a wedding dance floor. She wrapped her arms around him truly for the first time at her mother's. He held her hand during a following one.

It was all so clear.

It was always there, brewing in the back of his mind.

"All I did was love you."

And then he was confused. He stood there, watching her walk away, tears in her eyes, and he just stood there.

"Goodbye, Chuck."

He could count the number of times she had said that to his face, the different variations of letting him go. But she always came back.

He had to keep that in mind.

They weren't supposed to leave each other. They were supposed to be forever.

That was the whole point.

It was almost seemed too obvious. He had been thinking of it this the whole time. Never saying it for fear that it was too soon, but it had always been there. She had always been there for him. There had been conquests and other women, but this was it. It was too clear to him. No one could ever make him feel the way he felt for her and that spelled out everything for him.

They were meant to be.


Everything he thought but could never say.

He was Chuck Bass.

But what he couldn't say he always showed. He thought Blair knew that. He knew he had hurt her and done unforgivable things. But he would do anything to remedy that.

And he knew that she felt the same. They were always the same, thinking the same things, seeing the same answers. And he knew that she felt the same way.

He knew marriages were hard and divorces were frequent where they lived, but they were different. They were too right for each other to ever let that go.

It could never be too late for them. He wouldn't let it. He couldn't be given this beautiful and perfect thing just to have it torn from him.

He knew he deserved it. If you could call Satan a divine intervention, Chuck could believe that Jack was sent to torture him by some higher power. He deserved comeuppance for every horrible thing he had done, and this was the perfect way to do that.

Make him fall in love with his equal just to have her taken away and leave him crippled for the rest of his life.

It was brilliant, really.

But he refused that endgame. She was it. And that was the way things would be.

It was so simple. The ironic twist to everything being so complicated.

This wasn't an easy fix. He wasn't doing it to buy her affections. But for him, this was the way they had been heading all along.

It was strange, how to Chuck Bass, marriage was the most sacred act. He would never enter into that bond with anyone but her.

It was so small.

It was so right.

It was shining and beautiful and completely her.

He was nervous.

He felt himself hyperventilate and wheeze but it would all be right in the end.

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe they would wait. But it didn't matter because as long as it was with her, everything would be all right. He could never love anyone else the way he loved her, and that he was sure of.

He was sure, even when she didn't show up. There was a sort of clarity that came down to it all. He understood that she wasn't coming. She could never come after everything that he had done. He didn't deserve her perfection.

But he wasn't letting go either.

Even after what he had done, there was some muscle in him that would forever be clenched. His heart always longed for her, needed her.

He didn't let that go either.

The bag with the ring stayed on his bedside table. And soon it would be in his safe. Locked away in some deep recess where no one could ever get to it but him.

That was the way he had always been and now that she had flitted too far in the distance for him to catch, that was the way it would be again.

It was so small, but it meant the world.

He could get rid of anything. He could lose his empire, his assets, and the art hanging everywhere. But this was something that would never leave him. He couldn't let it go. If everything else went, it would be the only thing left to ever remind him of her. He would keep it forever. He would keep it because he wasn't ridding her from his heart either.

He wondered what she would have said.

"There's no need to get rough."

He didn't understand how it had come to this. In a way, he was almost grateful. He didn't see it coming, but foreign words were being yelled at him and they didn't understand the meaning of Chuck Bass.

He would relinquish anything.

Anything but that.

That was the only thing that would ever remind him that he had once had her.

And he would keep it until his dying breath.

"Just let me keep the box."

And he did.