A/N: I wrote this awhile ago, a little after the finale, so that should tell you, yes, it IS another one of those stories. But I hope you are entertained nonetheless. I'm hesitant to dedicate this to The Very Last Valkyrie since I don't really know how good it, but she made me feel better with hers, so she deserves a shout-out.

Summary: "I know you don't want to talk about it-" "Relief," Blair said sweetly. "I feel relief."

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. My heartbreak as well as characters belong to GG, thanks so much to comewhaymay.x who beta's even though I write too much. It's a curse.


Gasping.

Panting.

Heaving.

They were all sounds he had heard before. And he was all too familiar with hearing it from her. It never ceased to frighten him, seeing her bent over the sink like that, clutching her stomach.

But her insides were cleansed, and he knew that this had nothing to do with plummeting self-esteem or customary self-deprecation.

It was panic. The same panic he felt on the edges of more than one ledge and at the bottom of bottles of Jack.

Blair Waldorf raised her head as he shut the door of the bathroom behind him, their eyes meeting in the mirror.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"So am I."

.

She had felt pain before. Emotional. Physical.

This could not compare.

Never in her life had she fallen into such an abyss of despair.

Pain.

It was sharp and stabbing.

And then it was dark.

And then she knew. No matter how many times the world had ended for her, this was it.

This was death.

.

There was nothing she was better at. She had been in this situation before, staring into the mirror in her bathroom, commanding her reflection to be something else even when she knew she had no control over it.

There was nothing she was better at than this. There was nothing she was better at than denial. No matter what science told her, she could always lie to herself.

Still, her hands shook. She wasn't seventeen anymore. She wasn't in high school anymore. This was very real. The blue plus sign glared up at her instead of a negative, and the pregnancy test clattered to the counter.

She heard fumbling in Serena's room and she stuffed the test hastily into the trashcan.

It was uncomfortable.

The way he awkwardly tried to leave when the subject of her impending marriage came up. She was so bright and shiny on the outside, and she knew there was no way he could tell. In his attempt to escape her, he couldn't see the fake veneer covering up every pang of panic striking at her heart.

She just smiled.

He was cordial and he was mature and it was at that moment, that she realized what he was wearing.

His hold on her waist was fleeting and she remembered the night three weeks ago and how he had refused to let go.

For a time. For their last goodbye.

She remembered.

His kiss on her cheek was fleeting and for a moment, she almost wanted to hold him close. She wanted him to keep her from falling apart the way he always did. In the way that only he could.

But he let her go. Like he promised he would.

Like he told her she had to.

He was walking away from her and she realized what he was wearing. She realized how without even trying, their outfits always seemed to match. She paused, noting the feeling of his sturdy presence moving farther and farther away from her and the color of his tie.

Pink.

Pink for a girl.

But it wasn't his anyways. It was Louis'.

She was sure of it.

She had to be.

.

"Where is she?"

It was the last thing Louis Grimaldi ever expected, and the absolute last thing he ever wanted.

She never talked about him. But to Louis that had more to do with him being her future husband than anything else.

And yet, there he was.

Chuck Bass strode through the interior of his Monaco estate and Louis would have thought by his body language that he was completely at ease—if his appearance didn't emphasize differently.

Louis had only known Chuck Bass to be impeccable. The moment he had entered New York, he knew there was something. There was still that question of why Blair had abandoned him before the ball back in the summer, and it only made sense that she was recovering from a particularly nasty break-up. But it was almost a year later, and things still hadn't changed.

Chuck was still as present in her life as he had ever been, tie perfectly knotted, smug exterior perfectly in place.

This was different.

Chuck walked into Louis' home that day and the Prince knew it was different.

For the first time since Louis had seen him, Chuck Bass was a mess. He remembered the way Chuck had reacted at the consulate the night Louis had proposed.

He was just thankful that Chuck wasn't currently drunk out of his mind.

It was the first time Louis had seen Chuck unkempt, but not swayed by any illegal substance.

"Where is she?"

Louis paused for a moment, reconsidering his decision. But he had known the second that he called his fiancé's former lover that it was the right decision. He knew that this man cared for Blair more than Louis could ever imagine.

Louis knew that Chuck loved her.

Nothing had ever been more clear to him than when Chuck bent to kiss Blair on the forehead, releasing her into Louis' arms.

That was what worried him. He knew that Chuck's antagonistic habits would push Blair further away from him. But the very fact that Chuck had displayed maturity in leaving Blair alone frightened him.

He knew.

He saw the way she still looked at Chuck when they were in the same room.

That was why they were in France. Because ironically, Louis could trust Chuck. But he couldn't trust Blair.

"In her room."

Louis was relieved that Chuck didn't notice that Blair's room was separate from her fiancée's. That's the way it had been since...

Everything.

Chuck ran a heavy hand through his already tousled hair. Dark exotic eyes looked right through Louis and he knew that Chuck wanted to say something else. Something that neither of them were prepared for.

But he didn't.

He just cast Louis a look before heading straight for the dark room.

Chuck's hand pushed the door open to reveal complete darkness.

For the first time it was Louis who had brought that upon Blair, and Chuck was attempting the light.

Louis stayed back. He watched as Chuck took a seat by Blair's bed and took her pliant hand in his. He stayed back because he didn't want to know what Chuck was saying to her. He couldn't bear the thought of a man he believed a monster healing her with words that Louis could never think of.

Louis wanted her to be healed. And he supposed that was what made Chuck a better man than him. He was still jealous of their past together.

All Chuck was thinking of was her health.

It was ironic.

Chuck was the most trustworthy person in this situation. Chuck loved her. He loved her so much that he let her go. He let her live her fairytale.

And look where it got her. Practically comatose in a dark room.

Chuck took her hand.

Louis couldn't look any longer, turning away.

Louis still hated him when Chuck was the one who had given them his blessing.

He hated him and not just because of their history. Because even after everything that had happened, Chuck loved her so much that he could help her when Louis couldn't.

He loved her enough not to be selfish.

And Louis couldn't even do that.

.

She had been happy.

She was.

In that moment, she didn't know what it was, but being with him made her happy.

His grin was contagious.

No one would ever know, considering that he never displayed it to anyone but her, but she loved seeing him smile.

She only saw him that way with her.

He grinned at her.

Their hands were linked like they had been a year ago when their problems were just about self-esteem and art auctions. They revolved in a circle, their hands intertwining.

He was grinning.

Their hands connected in excited claps and before she knew it, she was spinning in the center of the circle. Before she knew it, he was beside her, and their arms were linked like their hands had been. Like their hearts still were.

He was happy.

She knew this as the lights beat down on them.

He was looking at her and she knew. He was happy.

And so was she.

Her heart dropped into her stomach like the only way it did when he looked at her. Her nails dug into the chair, but he was at her side, and she had never felt more safe.

He was next to her and his bandaged hand closed around her own, placing his mouth to the back of it with a kiss so quick she almost missed it. It was swift, but it was him. There wasn't anything she would have done.

It was him.

And he was looking at her.

She couldn't be more aware of the fact that there was an unlocked lounge before them.

Date of conception.

The doctor was nice. She smiled like it was good news and in that moment, Blair knew that it was.

It was good like Chuck's lips on the back of her neck as he ripped the zipper down her back.

She had an idea. But now she knew. She knew but what really frightened her was that she wanted it to be this way. She was relieved when she heard the news.

Date of Conception: May 16th, 2011.

He had said that it wasn't right. No matter how much he smiled and how joyfully he groaned against her, they were guilty.

The both of them.

But no matter how much he had said he had to let her go and how she deserved better—as he always did—she heard the underlying message.

He didn't want it to be like this. He didn't want their reconciliation tainted.

Whether he liked it or not, that night meant something now.

She had pushed him into that room, slamming the door behind her, and in an instant, she was upon him.

The last time this had happened was before the opening of a club and they were covered in red silk and passion.

It was sweet. It was sweet in only a way they could be.

Now, his face was serious. Her lips forced his apart, and there was no hesitation.

There never was.

He always spun her around—her neck would always be his weakness, her body always his fault. His eyes glazed over and she knew, as she always had, that power was an aphrodisiac. For them both.

He stared at her, waiting. He stared at her, unable to admit this was happening. But her hands gripped the side of his face and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her fiercely into his chest, her dress halfway down her waist.

They writhed and ground together.

They loved.

It meant something.

Date of Conception: May 16th, 2011.

Due Date: February 20th, 2012.

.

"Blair, wait."

"I can't talk about this anymore."

She felt his desperate eyes boring into her back, and suddenly, the palace seemed so big—so empty. Everything was marble and elegant, but ever since they had gotten off the yacht and she had truly accepted everything, it was too much.

She felt smothered.

She felt the growing being in her womb, and that was all she could think of anymore. She couldn't afford to be selfish anymore. She felt such a strong connection to this unborn being.

And its father.

She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't rely on her selfish fantasies to keep her afloat anymore.

She was going to be a mother.

Louis wasn't helping things.

"We need to talk about this."

He was pleading and he was desperate, and Blair remembered what it was like to be so exhausted of someone's morals.

Blair hesitated at the top of the stairs, her hand splayed across her stomach subconsciously.

She felt Louis' eyes all over her.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"You won't even let me go to the doctor's with you," Louis protested.

"You don't belong there," Blair said.

For a moment, she almost convinced herself.

"Why?" Louis asked.

Even after all this time, she couldn't convince him. Not anymore.

"Because of Chuck?"

"What?" Blair asked. But it was written all over his face.

He knew her indignation was just a front.

"He has nothing to do with this," Blair snapped, placing her hand protectively over her stomach. "Why do you keep bringing him up?"

"Because you do."

Louis' voice wasn't angry. He wasn't upset. He was just telling her the truth. That was what was getting to her.

This was supposed to be easy. They were supposed to be light and happy forever.

"Just stop," Blair said refusing to let emotion seep through her facade in front of him.

They were supposed to be happy. But it seemed that fate was on the side of inevitability. Fate had other plans for her.

Her and her baby.

"I can't."

It was the first time Louis had displayed emotion that she only ever associated with him. The other him, who had implanted his seed so easily within her.

"I am so tired of fighting with you," Blair said. "I can't fight about this with you anymore."

"Because you can only fight with him."

"I said stop it, Louis."

She hated speaking to him that way. She hated that now he was just another lover to her. Not even someone who could be a husband.

That fantasy was gone.

"You can talk to him about this."

"I haven't been talking to him at all."

"Something we actually have in common," Louis said. "Because you aren't talking to me either."

"Are you surprised?"

Her voice was reaching that hysterical level and she could only turn away from him. That was all she could do with him any more.

"No, Blair."

He was sad. So sad that as she tried to escape him, his hand wrapped around her wrist. She immediately thought of shattered glass and drunken proclamations of love.

So taken aback by this sudden aggression, she tried to wrench away.

It was sudden. So sudden that she didn't realize what was happening. She didn't hear any words coming from his mouth or his slackening grip. All she felt was gravity pulling her down.

That time, she did hear his voice.

"Blair!"

The steps of the marble staircase were hard against her spine. Her breath rushed out of her lungs with a painful gasp and all she could think of was the tiny person growing inside of her.

She had pulled herself free only to find her heels were far too cumbersome and she was far too near the ledge and she wrapped her arms around her stomach as she clenched her eyes shut, waiting for the pain to stop.

"Blair."

Louis' footsteps thundered down the several flights of stairs as Blair lay on the bottom floor, her body still reverberating with the vibrations of pain.

She couldn't unwrap her arms from around herself. She couldn't let herself go.

But that didn't stop it. That didn't stop the knowledge seeping through her like the blood seeping between her thighs.

"Blair."

She flinched away from Louis' touch as he tried to put his arms around her in comfort.

And she knew what had happened.

There was no longer any struggle. Louis' embrace was nonexistent as she saw crimson pool around the white tiles, lining the cracks.

She had felt pain before. Emotional. Physical.

This could not compare.

Never in her life had she fell into such an abyss of despair.

Pain.

It was sharp and stabbing.

And then it was dark.

And then she knew. No matter how many times the world had ended for her, this was it.

This was death.

My baby.

She didn't know if she said it out loud, screamed it, or if it was just a shriek of despair in her own head.

"Blair."

"No."

She heard it crack through her throat. Dry sobs wracked through her body as she gripped her stomach, knowing there was no life left within it at all.

"Blair."

"No."

Tears left flaming streaks of pain down her face, her nails scratching trails of red through the pool of blood across the floor.

She cried. She cried until she was dry.

My little girl.

She would have named her Scarlett.

.

She slept a lot. He knew that was understandable. He had soon realized that there was so much about his future wife that he couldn't predict.

He didn't know why he thought things would go back to normal.

He didn't know why he thought she would be okay.

He didn't know why he thought this would solve anything.

She was still abed. She was still grieving when he offered to try again.

It wasn't good enough.

It wasn't good at all.

He knew it was the wrong thing to say.

He was starting to think that she was grieving for something else.

He tried what he thought would work. He tried temptation and offerings. But society events didn't inspire her the way they used to and he couldn't understand.

He couldn't even try to understand her anymore.

She was too lost.

"Please."

He never expected an answer anymore.

"Please, Blair."

Her eyes were dead and he knew how close he was to his last resort. He would do anything to make her happy. He would do anything so she would just look at him again.

Not that she would see anything.

She didn't see anything anymore.

"Do you want me to pretend to be happy for you?"

He heard the underlying tone and it hurt more than he would have liked.

He never made me pretend.

That he that was always underlying every conversation they ever had.

"I just want you to be happy," Louis said. "I want us to move on."

Again, it was the wrong thing to say. Once, everything he said would make her smile, even if they were laced with sorrowful salt.

"You can move on."

Again, everything she said, he knew there was another meaning. He wanted the truth. All he ever wanted was the truth.

In an ironic twist, it was she who didn't trust him.

"I didn't mean it."

"I know."

She didn't hate him. She couldn't. But if that were true, he didn't know what she was feeling.

"It was an accident."

"I know, Louis."

She was starting to get irritated.

"Then why are you punishing me?"

"Because it wasn't yours."

He hadn't seen fire in her eyes like that for so long. But he knew how close their world was to crumbling to the ground.

"I know," Louis said quietly.

Blair's eyes grew hard, but he knew it was just confusion. Just misunderstanding.

Because they just couldn't understand each anymore.

"I love you, Blair."

She pulled the blankets up farther beneath her chin.

He hadn't seen her torso since the incident. They refused to refer it to anything else.

"I have no idea why."

He felt everything crumbling. Things weren't as innocent as they used to be. He was starting to think that she had never kept her promise and never showed him all the parts of her.

"Why are you calling me?"

The voice was full of static from across the ocean—even more full of suspicion. But Louis didn't have any other choice.

"I need your help."

"Why?"

"Wouldn't you do anything to help her?"

There was a pause and Louis knew for the first time, he actually did say something right.

"Tell me."

It was a demand and it was anger.

Louis wished that sad devil hadn't made the choice for her all those months ago.

Things would be different.

Things would be alive.

.

She's beautiful. Dressed in red fabric, her hair combed, her eyes full of something that he can't deduce.

She's alive again. Or trying to be, at least.

Trying to live.

That's how he knows that it's the end.

"This can't be fixed."

She is always a princess. She doesn't need him for that.

Always a queen.

He can never begrudge her the decision.

All he wants for her is happiness.

And yet he had been selfish.

"I know," he replies.

He just wishes he doesn't have to call the Prince of Darkness to realize the true kingdom she belongs to.

.

Blair never got seasick.

Louis didn't know that.

She loved yachts and the freedom they provided. She loved the way Princess Sofie now looked upon her like a daughter.

She loved what had been growing inside of her for the past month, no matter what her gut was telling her.

The warnings.

The truths.

"Are you alright?"

Blair started, not expecting to see kind eyes and a muddled accident.

"Just a little seasick."

"Oh, I didn't realize," he said kindly. "I wish you would have told me so I could-"

"It'll pass," Blair smiled. "I want to be with you."

And she did. She just found her trying to convince him more and more out loud.

Blair never got seasick.

But Louis never knew that.

She didn't know why that bothered her.

.

She could drink again. It didn't offer as much solace as she would have liked. But somehow those dark eyes of his were a comfort, even as she found herself back in the familiar decadence of a hotel bathroom.

Blair fisted her hand, pressing it fiercely against her mouth to stop everything.

She thought she was done with involuntary vomiting.

She was wrong.

She clutched her flat stomach and she didn't hear his entrance and the closing of the door. That's all she ever seemed to do. She was always clutching at the remains of a forgotten dream.

Then he walked in the door.

It was lucky.

His eyes were on hers and she really knew that all he ever wanted for her was happiness.

He was just so broken he didn't realize that she didn't have to cross the Atlantic to get it.

Just as broken as she was.

The panic was still seeded in the pit of her stomach and strangely, it was his presence that made her stop.

He always calmed her in strange ways.

She hated crying in front of him, but it was only him she found herself crying in front of.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being a manipulative liar."

Something reacted within him at that moment, but she couldn't be sure as he took a step forward.

"I love you, you manipulative liar."

"You can't love someone you let go."

She doesn't address him by anything. She didn't have that luxury. Not anymore.

"Are you mocking me?"

"Are you torturing me?"

"Always," he replied. "That's why we can't-"

"What if I can't have children again?"

It caught him off guard. But he would always get his wind back.

"Then you can't produce any heirs to continue the Grimaldi line."

He wasn't oblivious. He saw her naked fourth finger and the faint tan line that was so easily fading away.

"Chuck," she snapped.

He knew. They both knew. They both knew the charade she had put up and the exact reason she had returned to where she had always belonged.

He still advanced. They were breathing the same air in the way they hadn't for six months and it was a relief.

"I know you don't want to talk about it-"

"Relief," Blair said sweetly. "I feel relief."

It was dangerous.

They were dangerous.

But things were different this time.

"Do you want to have children again?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"His children?"

"I was never going to have his child to begin with."

It was loaded, it was desperate, and it was frightening.

"I'm scared," she whispered. He tried not to close his eyes at the sound of her voice. He had shut that door a long time ago.

"So am I."

He should have done it right the first time. But he never could do anything right when it came to her. He knew this better than anyone when her fingers were laced with his. She pressed his hand to her stomach and he really did know this was different. She never would have done that before. Not when they were together, not ever.

"Do you hate me?"

"How could I ever hate you?" Chuck asked.

"For what I did to your child."

"That wasn't your fault," he answered without missing a beat. There was no lie. There was no deceiving.

They both knew the truth.

May 16th, 2011.

They both knew.

"It wasn't his either."

"No," Chuck agreed. "It wasn't his."

He tried to pull away but her grip was tight.

"This changed things."

"No," Chuck said, finally freeing himself. "No it didn't."

"It changed everything."

Finally it was her pursuing him like he had predicted, but this wasn't a game now. There had been a life growing inside of her that the two of them created.

His baby had been growing inside of her.

"I'm bad for you."

"And I'm good for you," Blair said.

She was always quick, never baffled by his words.

"That baby did something to me, Chuck."

He didn't realize the relief he would feel at hearing her perfect lips form his name again.

"It completed me," she said. "It filled a part of me that I didn't know was missing. Until you let me go."

"Don't," Chuck said, closing his eyes away from her. "I'm not strong enough."

"Chuck."

"I'm not strong enough to resist you."

"Maybe you were never supposed to."

"I was supposed to let you go," Chuck said in frustration.

"Did you?"

"You were supposed to let me go," Chuck said. "I told you to let me go."

"I didn't say I would," Blair answered. "I don't follow anyone's commands, Bass. Least of all yours."

"Don't talk like that," he commanded. "Don't treat us like-"

"Like we used to?" she asked. "Being us made me happy. There was something between us."

"That doesn't mean-"

"And having it ripped out of me nearly killed me," Blair said. "Until you came back."

"You were happy with him."

"Happy enough," she said. "But I'm selfish. I wanted you both. So I pretended to show him everything while I kept your love-child in me. I'm a manipulative liar. And you love me."

He hated her. He hated how she was so right. He hated how she could sway him so easily. He hated how she was making him want to touch her again.

"You never touched me."

And there was that. Her eyes, her mouth, herself. She was a manipulator.

And he loved her.

"Stop."

He never begged anyone. But he begged Blair Waldorf.

"Did I disgust you?" she asked. "When I was carrying your child?"

There was a breaking point. And then there was Chuck Bass. His hands were wrapped around her shoulders and that satisfied smile was more than he could bear.

"I can't let this go," she breathed.

"You have to."

She heard the underlying tone.

We have to.

"Not this," Blair disagreed. "I miscarried your child."

"Blair-"

He hated it all. Her words, her sadness. He hated those thoughts in her head and how there was never anything she could do to make him leave her.

"I can't let this go," Blair said

And he heard it. Her words were always laced with undertones, and he knew what she was talking about.

Us.

"Neither can I," he finally relented.

Like he always wanted.

He could never let them go.