A/N: Thank you all so much who have come on this journey with me. It was very stressful for me to finish this before the new episode came out, but I did it! I really hope that all of you appreciate how I ended this because when it comes to true love, there is no logic, just like this fic. I hope I have made the answers in this as clear and concise as I could and that you all have enjoyed this. This is my favorite chapter that I have written, because here is the apperance you have all been waiting for. For those of you who want to see The Very Last Valkyrie's awesome art, just visit her photobucket and remove the spaces. http : / / s 575 . photo bucket . com / albums / s s 200 / jasper in my room /
Summary: It was the only thing that he could think of, his back on the ground, his face pointed towards the ceiling with his eyes clenched shut. His back arched in scalding pain, and it was the first time he had considered that something was very different.
Disclaimer: For the last time, this is inspired by Dante's Inferno and the epic, tumuluous, passionate and eternal love that is Chuck and Blair. but most of all, thank the amazing comewhatmay.x who even though she had no time whatsoever, she agreed to beta this little project for me. Love her eternally.
He was in pain.
It was the only thing that he could think of, his back on the ground, his face pointed towards the ceiling with his eyes clenched shut. His back arched in scalding pain, and it was the first time he had considered that something was very different.
Maybe something was finally right.
Even when something was obviously wrong. Without having to open his eyes through gritted teeth, he knew what was different. It had been so long since he had heard her voice so frantically desperate.
Then again, it had been so long since he had heard her voice at all. Her real voice. The voice that didn't belong to that demonic entity wearing her face, but his true heart's desire.
He suddenly wanted to open his eyes.
The cry was even more shrieking this time, and he was starting to dwell on the fact that everything wasn't as fine as he had originally perceived.
She wasn't alone. He recognized the voice instantly, though he was still unable to gain control of his motions.
"Why are you telling me to calm down? Look at him."
"I am looking."
She wasn't the only one who sounded frightened. But her voice was still the only one he cared about.
"Shut up so I can actually try."
"Do something, Nathaniel!"
Chuck was sure he had blacked out until he felt it. Without seeing anything, he knew that Nate's fist had come down hard on his chest, but all he could do was let out a feeble groan.
With that simple sentence, Chuck was able to open his eyes to slits, observing what was occurring.
He knew exactly where he was.
The doors of his room were flung open, a feminine figure crowded in it. She was huddled against the doorway, evidently afraid of even taking a step closer. Nate was crouched at his side, raising his fist over his head once more.
There were tears in her eyes, and fear in her throat, and as Nathaniel's fist came down to his chest once more, Chuck Bass blacked out.
Heat flooded beneath Chuck's eyelids, his chest sore, and his heart even sorer.
But she was near. He could tell. He could always tell when Blair Waldorf was in his proximity. That aura of entitlement around her, and that scent of pure temptation.
Even as he knew he was being tossed around in the back of a moving vehicle, he could still tell she was near.
Chuck knew exactly where he was.
"...don't know...found him-"
His hand was as sore as his heart, but it was because of her grip, and he longed to squeeze back.
If only he had the ability to do so.
"Do you know his name?"
"His name is Chuck Bass."
He was Chuck Bass and he couldn't comprehend the ecstasy of hearing her say his name again.
And yet again, unconsciousness overcame him.
"...just don't understand how this happened."
His arm hurt. It was throbbing and pulsing, and Chuck hated hospitals enough to know that he was in one.
Even when her voice was so near.
"We're still running extensive tests."
Her voice was sneering and condescending and he just wished that she knew.
"How can you not know what's wrong with him? Aren't you supposed to be a professional?"
"We're doing out best with the current circumstances, miss."
"Doing your best? He's slipping away."
"We had to heavily sedate him. He was running a fever."
She was silent and he prayed that she hadn't gone away from him again.
"If something happens to him..."
But the warning in her voice was clear and he felt relief overcome him once again.
"We apologize, but the only reason our tests haven't been conclusive is that he is exhibiting signs that don't make any sense."
"Well make sense of it."
Chuck felt himself drift in and out of consciousness, highly aware of the needle in his arm, and the comfort in her voice.
"Are you aware of any injuries Mr. Bass might have sustained?"
Chuck's hip began to burn.
"The scar on his hip shows signs of inflammation. We've given him antibiotics to fight the infection."
"He was shot almost a year ago. How is that possible?"
"We're looking into it."
"There's not something...wrong...with it? Is there?"
"If his wound healed over relatively normally, there's no reason there should be a problem."
"Then why is there one?"
Blackness settled over him like her comfortable night, and he was only able to sleep as her scent perfumed the air around him.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you."
"You were entitled."
"No, I wasn't."
"He'd do anything for you, Blair. You know that."
"That was never the problem."
"He loves you so much."
"That was never the problem."
"Then why are you even here? You vowed never to forgive him."
"Because he promised he would never hurt me again. And he lied."
When Chuck opened his eyes, Nate was gone. But her last comment still rang in his ears discomfortingly. The bed dipped with her marginal weight and he could breathe again.
"Have you been lucid long?"
Chuck had to smile up at her. No one spoke the way Blair Waldorf spoke.
"I heard you."
Her brow furrowed and he knew his comment worried her.
"You kept me lucid."
"Isn't that something."
As promising as her words had been, he knew that they weren't out of the woods yet. She was still frowning and he knew that there was that rational part of her that was still hating him.
"You're going to be fine."
She was smiling at him, and he knew that look. That smile laced with pain, shielding the tears in her eyes from him. He wanted to reach forward. But his arm was still connected to that damned IV and he hated everything around him.
But she was looking at him. And it made him hate everything a little bit less awful.
She looked worried and he wanted her closer to him.
"What happened?" In actuality, he was interested. He didn't know any of it. He didn't know how his reality had been mixed and muddled. He didn't know how much time had passed or what was expected of him here.
But it didn't matter. Even if she was crying, he would make her better. He would fix it all.
"They beat your infection," Blair said. "But it's still sort of a mystery."
"Why am I here?"
"Because I walked into your room to find you convulsing on the floor," Blair said bluntly.
"Why were you in my room?" Chuck asked cheekily.
But she wasn't having it.
"Nate told me you were going on another bender."
"Is that all that would get you by my side?" Chuck asked. "Another binge?"
"Well it always worked out that way when our roles were reversed."
It was an uncomfortable topic—for her especially. But she had the upper hand and they both knew it.
"But leave it to you to resort back to your smug ways when I thought you might have had a life altering experience."
He couldn't be sure if she was bluffing or not, his hand shooting out to capture her as she stood up, away from him.
"Is that the only reason you came?" Chuck asked. "To see me in my weakened state?"
"How can you be so selfish to think this is about you?"
"It isn't?" Chuck asked doubtfully, looking around at the various machines he was hooked up to.
"No," Blair snapped. "It isn't. This is about me. It's about the fact that I'm here because you almost died."
"I didn't," Chuck said, and he knew it was the truth. "It hurt like Hell, but I didn't. But I would have thought you would have enjoyed it."
He knew he was fishing for information he hoped was true, but he couldn't help himself. She was looking at him with love—the way that no other person on the planet, or even beneath it, could replicate.
"You think I would have enjoyed you breaking my heart again?" Blair asked.
And there was the answer he was searching for. The answer he had been searching for all along. Because he had always been repentant. He just didn't think that was what she wanted.
"You told me you would never do that again."
"And you told me that we were over for good," Chuck retorted.
"Is that why you did this?" Blair asked. "Because of me?"
"I didn't do anything," Chuck said.
"You almost drank yourself to an early grave."
"What's the point in living if you have nothing to live for?" Chuck asked coldly.
"Don't do that," Blair whispered.
"I did what you asked."
Her face betrayed confusion.
"I have been through Hell for you," Chuck said. "Just like you asked."
"This wasn't what I wanted."
"Tell me what to do," Chuck said. "Just tell me what to do to fix it and I will."
She was looking at him sorrowfully and he hated it. He hated that it looked so much like pity mixed with condescension that he felt like he was losing her again.
"If I had known all you ever wanted was my regret," Chuck said, "then I would have given it."
"That's not all I wanted," Blair warned.
"I've given you my remorse," Chuck said. "I've done my penance for you. And I wasn't lying. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. If that's what it takes, I'll do it. I wasn't lying, Blair. I've been through Hell for you. And you are the only woman who will ever be able to say that."
Before she could even object, he raised the hem of his dressing gown, always slightly smug at the shock betrayed on her face, whether it be in a hospital or the first time in the back of his limo.
"That's not from Prague," Blair said. Chuck knew she had seen the real scar. The one that wasn't even an inch long. The one that she ran her fingers over tenderly on top of a piano and in many other undisclosed locations.
"It really isn't."
And again her fingers were hot and cold at the same time as she traced the scar with the tips of her fingers, and he restrained himself from reacting.
"Please believe me, Blair," Chuck said. "I have been through Hell for you."
"I believe you."
Her voice was soft and husky, and he knew that it had nothing to do with his scar. She dragged his gown back down and he knew she believed him from the moment he said it. She didn't need physical evidence. The proof was all in his eyes.
"And I'll go through an eternity of it," Chuck said, "as long as it's with you."
"I don't want to put you through Hell," Blair said.
"As long as I'm with you," Chuck said. "As long as I am really and truly with you."
"You're the only person I've ever been real with."
"The only thing that's ever been real is you and me."
"Chuck," Blair said softly, almost begrudgingly as she took a deep breath. "I wouldn't mind you spending the rest of your life making it up to me."
He wanted to lean forward. To lean into her and take comfort in her. But there was a warning in her eyes and he knew it wasn't the best course of action at this point.
"You promised you would try to not break my heart again," Blair said. "But you almost left again. And I didn't like it."
"Whatever it takes, Blair," Chuck said. "I'll do anything."
"Let's just lie here," Blair said, "for a while. I just want to lie with you."
"I want to lie with you too."
Her arms were soft and her scent was sweet, and even though he knew he would be restricted from her tomorrow and the next day, and in all possibility the day after that, he was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to her.
And she was going to let him.