A/N: I have to say I'm a little concerned. I'm not a review monger, but when I don't get any reviews, I get worried that no one's reading. If that's the case, I don't know if I could continue this. I love writing this. It's one of my favorite things to write, but if I'm only writing for myself and no one cares anymore, then I can't see the purpose. I understand if this is getting repetitive, dull, or tedious. I can also understand if you're busy and don't have time to review. It's not a big deal, I'd just like to know if people are still reading or interested. If there's even one person that wants to continue this, please let me know. If not, thanks for sticking with me all this way.

Carats, Clarity, Charisma

Monsieur Grimaldi would want me to be sure it was perfect. Like that. Carats, clarity, charisma. Not that I expected Louis to get me a ring so soon, but this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

It was beautiful. The way it sparkled. The way it shone. For a moment, all logic was meaningless. She was nineteen. She shouldn't have even been thinking about marriage. But in that one moment she knew.

In that moment, all she knew was that it was hers. It was the strangest thing, but for her, she knew it was hers. Where she was or where whom it originally belonged to didn't occur to her at all.

This was her ring. It was perfect for her.

"I see you've found Mr. Bass' stolen property."

And then she was thrust back into reality.

She knew it. She had known it.

This ring belonged to her as it had belonged to him.

She couldn't think of it. She couldn't think of what he had been feeling or seeing when he laid his eyes on it for the first time. She knew it was the same thing that she was feeling. The terror. The sensation.

It was the earthshattering feeling that this was it. They loved each other. He had broken her heart but they loved each other. The moment he saw it was the moment it became hers. He knew it was for her. It was practically made for her.

He had chosen it with the intent to give her something that no one before had ever volunteered in giving. It wasn't the Vanderbilt diamond. This was a ring that would be passed down for generations in her family and be remembered for the people that they were.

My great-grandmother's ring.

The one that Charles Bass gave her.

This was the diamond her beloved bought for her with the intent to be bound to her forever.

And once again, her heart was broken.

She stared it at, the facets sparkling sadly at her.

It would always belong to her. The same way that Chuck Bass would always be a part of her.

But it wasn't for her.

He was gone from her. She knew that, even as her fingers curled around the box.


Why was Chuck's blood on the wallet?

Mr. Bass would not let go of the ring. He fought them hard.

It wasn't a choice. That much was clear to him when he realized what was happening. Arms restrained him, hands being thrust into his pocket. And none of it mattered. He understood what was happening.

Frankly, he assumed it would happen to him at some point. He was very clearly a man of means who happened to always being wandering in the wrong side of town. Especially now when he was in the red light district, he wasn't surprised.

Inebriation clouded his brain and the thought that one little box was sitting innocently in his pocket hadn't even occurred to him. It hadn't occurred until his pocket was breached.

It was in the back of his mind, always existing, but never really dwelling over it. But he had always known its exact location and he knew exactly what was happening when foreign fingers closed over it.

There was never any choice. There was no thought of letting it go. There was no negotiating with them in any respect.

It was the ring. The ring that was the only thing he had left of her. He knew that he would never need it again. He knew it would have no real tangible use. But it was hers. There never was an alternative.

He only let go when he heard the gunshot—when he felt the gunshot. And even then, he only felt his fingers slip away because they were covered in blood and he couldn't very well stay standing, let alone realize he wasn't holding onto it any longer.

It was the only thing that he had left.

It was her. She shone and sparkled like that ring. She was multi-faceted and beautiful. And despite the fact that she would never even look at him in the vast eternity that would be his life from now on, he needed it.

Even if that eternity was quickly slipping away.

He was slipping.

But as his heart slowed and the footsteps of the thieves faded into the night, he could finally see her. Her face wasn't wrought with destruction or streaming with tears. It was just her.

He could see her again.

And he knew that he would always fight when it came to her.

One and Only

This is Chuck we're talking about. He really could just disappear.

If you're so torn up about it, stop him.

You and I both know you're the only one that can do that.

It had always been a fluke. She was well aware of that. Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf were never supposed to happen. This was something that she found herself repeating over and over.

Chuck was a soulless monster. Her loving him was just a crazy twist that life had thrown her. Maybe it was a lesson. But no matter what it was, she knew that being with him wasn't what fate had in mind for her. She was a Waldorf. She deserved princes and American royalty. Whatever Chuck was, it was too hard to be considered correct.

It wasn't proper.

Then again, a recessive part of her knew that was just the guilt talking.

Chuck got shot?

It kept echoing in her brain again and again.

Her fault? She thought not. He brought this on himself. But that didn't stop the fact that she cared. She was sure this was just a fluke—even if she couldn't think of any fluke that lasted two and a half years.

Chuck got shot?

Fluke, fluke, fluke.

Chuck got shot.

Not a question anymore.

Whether it was kismet or not, it didn't stop the facts. Blair always tried to think the most logically, the most cleverly. But the thing about Chuck was he kept her circling back to one action. One truth. One accident.

The facts were that she knew Chuck, and Chuck knew her. From the beginning of time until the end, they could look at each other and know exactly what the other was thinking.

In some way, they were together. They had been since they met and she couldn't think of a life without him.

He listened to her. He cared about her.

She better not show her face again.

I'm actually hoping she will.

They were always that way. He always knew her, always smirked at her.

And then she fell in love with him.

She hadn't realized it at first. That was the hard part. She had to listen to him call her names and break her heart without even realizing why it made her cry in her mother's lap. It wasn't until six months later that it actually occurred to her that she had accomplished the impossible. She had done something no one had ever done before and wasn't likely to do again.

She had fallen in love with Chuck Bass.

And she had no idea that he had done it quicker and harder than she. He always did things that way. He went all the way. He went hard and fast until he broke himself.

And now he had gotten himself hurt.

Turning away from him was the hardest thing she had to do. She felt like a sixteen year old again, ignoring the signs. She didn't watch how he looked at her when they were alone and didn't listen to logic that told her why he blogged horrible things about her.

Ignorance was bliss and ignorance came in the form of a prince this time.

She kept circling back.

And she kept thinking the same thing. She never knew what this was like. She never dreamed about this when she was little. She never read it in her storybooks as a child. Chuck Bass was an enigma and that was the reason she didn't know what to do.

She didn't have a plan. She didn't have a formula. She didn't have design plans when it came to Chuck Bass so she ran away scared in her high heels.

Serena was never supposed to be the voice of reason either.

Chuck always had the habit of turning things upside-down.

Chuck was never supposed to have a soul, nor a heart. He was that amusing entertainment on the sideline and a good ally.

You didn't fall in love with your advisors. Queens didn't fall in love with their appointed knights—especially the dark ones. They had their princes. They had kings.

But she had never held up a prince before. All she kept thinking was the way she held up her dark knight as he purged alcohol and grief. She thought of how she curled around him even as he left notes and cruelty.

"Don't do this."

She had whispered it to him when his night was darkest and then he had found his way to her bed.

He had run himself ragged with his whores and controlled substances.

Tears ran down his face and he apologized to her.

He was her partner and her other half. Even though he had destroyed any sort of future for them, she knew that much was true.

She felt that when he looked at her, he could actually see.

Not a fluke.

He came to her after his father's funeral and he spoke to Lily at Columbia when she asked and never once had she considered the reason.

Not a fluke.

Invisible strings connected them at the heart and when she looked at him, she could finally breathe.

He was a loose cannon. He had always been an insufferable rogue that smashed into everything in his path just to see it break. But she would clean his wounds, wipe his hair back, and look into his eyes.

And he would smile.

He would open his eyes and see everything for the first time and finally, everything could be all right.

I'm actually hoping she will.

What else could she do?