Will Not Remember, Cannot Forget [Part XXXIV] Georgina/Chuck/Blair, R
Title: Will Not Remember, Cannot Forget
Author: cynicalshadows (a.k.a. Alicia)
Pairings/Characters: Chuck/Georgina, Chuck/Blair
Rating: R, also M for Mature, and D for DARK - Don't say I didn't warn you!
Chapter: 34?
Word Count: 6209
Spoilers: Season 1
Summary: We all have demons we can't escape, and even Chuck Bass had been innocent...once.
Well I remember, I remember don’t worry
How could I ever forget?
It’s the first time, the last time we ever met
But I know the reason why you keep your silence up
No you don’t fool me
The hurt doesn’t show, but the pain still grows
It’s no stranger to you or me
And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord
-Phil Collins-
The snapshot is in black and white rather than color, and the quality is quite grainy, but still the person in the image is undoubtedly her, and the time stamp is from late last evening. Thank God. The evil whore is in Alvaneu, Switzerland, and she’s gallivanting around under an assumed identity with a fucking prince whom she is presumably fucking. Will wonders never cease?
He shuffles to the next photograph. This one is a close up of the two lovebirds kissing, or more precisely, Georgina holding her face rigid while this elderly slob gropes her in public. Studying it, Chuck isn’t sure whether to laugh or gag. Probably the latter, he suspects.
Georgina had always been one to do whatever was necessary to assure her own survival, but this is low even for her. Sleeping with an older gentleman? Fine. Sleeping with this particular older gentleman? Gross. Prince or no prince, he is repulsive and way below her standards except in regards to money. She must really be hurting financially to have sunk to this level of desperation to maintain her lifestyle.
Then again, from the looks of it, it seems her habits have only increased. She’d always been rather slender because of her penchant for cocaine, but the bitch is damn near skeletal now. Looks like her enforced stint in rehab didn’t help her kick her addiction. Not surprising seeing as she appears to have skipped out on the treatments within two months of her arrival. But after being denied her fix for that long, her frequency of use had surely grown once she was liberated, and since her parents had cut off her allowance she couldn’t afford to get high on her own. Supporting her party girl ways was unquestionably her reason behind shacking up with the decrepit middle-aged fool. Of course, he’d also be easier to manipulate than a strapping young lad loaded with cash, so perhaps it isn’t that unexpected a move after all. Georgina is nothing if not strategic.
As is Chuck Bass if he thinks about it.
This is why he’s arranged to have a wad of hundred dollar bills in his pocket this morning along with an ID that reads “Charles Bass,” although the boy in the picture is decidedly not him. The forgery is good, will withstand scrutiny, and thus free him from having to take this blasted exam known as the SAT himself.
The SAT is just a formality anyway. It really doesn’t matter what his score is so long as he has one. As if any college is seriously going to risk rejecting an application from the son of one of the wealthiest men in the country? In this instance, he’s like one of those Hollywood celebrities who attend Ivy Leagues. He’ll bring prestige to the campus, and the university can then brag that so-and-so got their degree from Yale or Harvard or wherever. It makes the school look good, and having an alumni who’s going to inherit a fortune doesn’t hurt.
Frankly, the majority of the kids in the Upper East Side don’t have to worry about the SATs, and yet they will. They’ll fret over it and cram for hours on end, preferring to delude themselves into believing that their test score or their essay or their grade in AP Calculus matters when the truth is it’s their last name and only their last name that the admissions office gives a shit about.
Some of the students at Saint Jude’s and Constance will, of course, need excellent scores, but not most of them. Certainly not Chuck, being the sole heir of Bass Industries, nor Serena with her mother’s upcoming marriage adding her under the umbrella of the Bass family. Not Nathaniel with his grandfather having half the Senate in his back pocket. Not Blair with her mother’s clothing designs beginning to become red carpet regulars. But still, they will all strive for the perfect score anyway just so that they can try to convince themselves that they got in on their own merits and not thanks to the hands of fate that had them born into power and privilege rather than poverty.
All of them, that is, except Chuck. He knows better than to stress over the results of an exam that does not figure at all into his college acceptance. The score is just a hoop one has to jump through. He could easily take the test himself, but why bother if it doesn’t count? He would rather spend his time on other more leisurely pursuits instead. Besides, the score can be acquired easily enough with the right connections and a little cash, and as he’s going to pay someone else to take it for him anyway, he may as well make sure that person is the male equivalent of Nelly Yuki so he gets his money’s worth.
One 90th percentile score coming right up.
After exiting his limo and the surreptitious SAT transaction, Chuck heads to the courtyard. Serena will most likely be there, and she will definitely want to hear the good news about the status of their cruel mentor. As he steps out of the building however, his feet halt at who he spots seated next to the blonde.
It’s Blair. Blair with her immaculate curls and a teasing expression. Blair in a bright yellow jacket and an orange headband that matches his own coat exactly. Blair who hasn’t said two words to him after he had refused to sleep with her after rescuing her from Victrola last week and has been doing her damndest to ignore him ever since.
Seeing her, his heart flutters. Maybe today will be the day that she -
But no. Some bimbo hanging out in the doorway misinterprets his pausing there, thinking he had done it because of her. The slut touches his chest in an overly-familiar gesture, her smile an even more obvious indication that they have fucked at one time or another and she’d love a second round. Blair’s vigilant gaze zeroes in on them before Chuck can shrug the desperate girl off.
Shit.
Her face instantly closes down. She turns towards Serena, rapidly shoving things into her bag. Understanding that she is attempting to avoid talking to him again, Chuck begins moving forward. But Blair is already rising, gliding past him almost as if he were not even there. Then at the last possible second, her eyes harden into a frosty glare.
Well that’s an improvement. At least she deigned to acknowledge him this time.
“She really needs to tone down on the social niceties,” Chuck observes wryly as he takes the seat next to Serena that Blair had just vacated. “It’s embarrassing.”
The blonde shakes her head. “Eventually the two of you are gonna have to work out your issues.”
“What issues?” he taunts. “I’m issue free.”
And he is. Where Blair is concerned, he finally is. He’d said all he needed to say to her that night in the limo and she’d said enough back to give him hope that she felt the same. She’d been sloppy drunk, of course, but if her behavior the last few days is any indication, she remembers what he said. He had assumed she wouldn’t, but she obviously does. Why else would she be trying so valiantly to act like he doesn’t exist? It’s the simplest way to pretend the entire conversation had never happened, and it is what she always does when her life doesn’t go according to the movie she’s envisioned in her head. She’s editing out the parts that aren’t following the script.
But it’s a bit too late to erase everything that happened between them in the limo after the rescue. She’s tipped her hand and Chuck knows she cares just as much as he does. They are inevitable and he isn’t going to give up ever again. Now he just has to be patient and persistent and wear her down until she admits it too. And if that confession has to be earned one scathing look at a time, so be it!
For now, however, he has other business to attend to. Information that Serena is almost as anxious to know as he had been.
“And uh… based on my exhaustive research,” he announces, “So are you.”
The golden waif perks up at that, tearing her eyes away from the SAT prep program she’d been fiddling with. “Georgina?” she asks eagerly.
“According to my very reliable sources, Georgina Sparks is nowhere near our fair isle,” Chuck confirms. “She’s in Switzerland dating the Prince of Belfort.”
Serena squints for a moment, as if not trusting she’d heard him correctly. “There’s a Prince of Belfort?” she repeats. “And she’s dating him?” Chuck nods slightly, and suddenly she is bursting into a grin. “Oh thank God!”
He smirks at her obvious relief. “Now you can enjoy the gifts she mailed you with peace of mind,” he leers, leaning into her suggestively. “And maybe Chuck in the room.”
“Oh shoot, except we’re siblings,” she groans in disgust, shoving his face away with an open palm.
“Georgie always brought out the devil in you. There’s a part of me that’s a little disappointed she’s not here,” he admits.
“Hmm… I wonder which part?” she muses sardonically.
“It’s been a while since I saw the old Serena,” he clarifies quickly. He does not want Georgina to visit under any circumstances, but lately he does miss Serena being his party pal. They used to associate frequently when the psychotic bitch still resided in Manhattan, naturally gravitating towards one another in the chaos-filled dens of drinks and drugs and depravity. They hadn’t been friends, and they were never close, but they had been there for one another in a way no one else ever was. They constantly watched out for each other, prevented the other from doing anything especially stupid, took care of the other when things got out of hand.
How often had he held Serena’s hair back when she vomited from drinking too much? How many times had she phoned Arthur to pick up his charge when Chuck over imbibed and was in danger of passing out at some stranger’s house? How many evenings had they fled together when Georgina’s wild ways got out of control and the festivities stopped being fun?
The insidious wild nights of the Upper East Side had done the impossible, had bonded them together after the sadistic slut’s lies had destroyed their childhood camaraderie. It had allowed them to reach a level of understanding that had no words.
Then Serena had fled to boarding school, and when she returned, she was reformed and wanted nothing to do with Chuck once again. He was a reminder of her old life, the one she was attempting to forget, and so she moved on without him. At the time, he hadn’t minded much. He had other people to hang out with. In Serena’s absence he’d grown close to Blair, and of course he’d still been best friends with Nate.
But now things were different. Nathaniel was no longer talking to him, and Blair acted like she despised him one moment and begged to sleep with him the next. The cornerstones of his social identity were basically gone, and he needed one of them to return so he didn’t feel so fucking lost. The old Serena, the carefree Serena, the ‘I can drink you under the table’ Serena would fit the bill.
“Well thanks to her,” the blonde continues, “The new one has to break a 2000 of her SATs so if you could just go smarm elsewhere.”
“The offer still stands,” he reminds her as he rises from the table. “I know a, uh lovely little redhead that’s just dying to be you for the day.”
She smiles. “I’ll leave the cheating to you Chuck. I plan on taking the SATs myself.”
He walks away, the edge of his lips twitching in irony. He’d already explained to her the other day the pointlessness of taking the exam herself, but she still seems intent on doing so despite him making arrangements so she wouldn’t have to bother with it.
Typical.
Glancing at his watch, he sees that he still has some time before first period begins. Maybe now would be an ideal opportunity to begin phase one of wear down the Waldorf. He had already gotten one glare today. Might as well try for two.
Strolling inside and up the stairs to the Constance hallway, Chuck locates Blair’s locker and leans against it. She always grabs whatever book she needs for her first class before the morning bell, and today she is going to have to deal with him in order to get it.
Sure enough, five minutes later the chestnut haired beauty rounds the corner. Sometimes he loves that she is so predictable.
With an air of extreme annoyance, she approaches, stopping only once she is directly in front of him. Standing there fuming, she stares coldly at him while he arches a brow back at her, daring her to say something.
After several tense seconds, she rolls her eyes. “Bass, I don’t have time for this. Get off.”
He manages to keep his expression neutral. “Are you volunteering again?” he inquires with practiced nonchalance.
She blinks in confusion. “To do what?”
“To get me off,” he winks. Really she walked right into that one.
“Hardly,” she scowls. “Been there. Done that. Been decontaminated.”
“Didn’t seem that way last week,” he can’t resist pointing out.
She sighs, a loud exasperated noise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lies.
“No?” he snorts. “I can remind you if you’d like. I’d love to.”
“That won’t be nec - ”
“Oh but it is,” he asserts, cutting off her protest. He reaches out to touch the hem of her skirt. “I believe you crawled into my lap and pleaded for me to - ”
“You’re a pig!” she hisses, slapping his hand away.
“Flattery will get you nowhere Waldorf.”
“Get off my locker Basshole,” she snaps.
“What’s the magic word?” he goads, crossing his arms behind his head.
“Now!” She stabs a finger into his chest with such force that it fucking hurts. He’ll probably have a bruise.
“What did I tell you about playing rough?” he winces, rubbing the soreness.
“I’ll show you exactly how rough I can be if you don’t get the hell off my locker!” she threatens with the slightest of snarls.
In response, Chuck’s mouth twists in amusement. She looks so damn sexy when she’s pissed. The flush anger brings to her cheeks, the fierceness that smolders in her chocolate eyes, the defiant set of her lips that just beg to be kissed into submission; it never fails to arouse him. “Is that a promise?” he taunts, his voice a seductive caress.
At his words, her breath catches in her throat. She swallows, her haughty demeanor slipping under the intensity of his magnetic gaze, silently challenging her to contradict what they both know to be true. “You nauseate me,” she finally manages to whisper without being able to break eye contact.
“That’s not nausea, princess,” he explains softly, stepping closer. “That’s butterflies.”
“You wish,” she insists, although her overall tone lacks conviction.
“So do you,” he counters smugly.
“I do not!” she spits, her inner fire surfacing from beneath her frosty exterior. To punctuate her denial, she shakes her head so adamantly that some of her chestnut tresses swing free from the restraint of her orange headband.
Seeing it, he unexpectedly tucks the stray curl behind her ear, fingering the silken strand before meeting her eyes again. “Yes, you do,” he states, dropping his hand from her hair before she can pull back.
Then he saunters away leaving her there, never glancing behind him to check to see if she is watching, more than confident that she will be gaping after him until he disappears from view.
Later than evening he’s changing out of the suit he’d worn right after school into something more comfortable when his cell rings. He peeks at the caller ID.
- SERENA -
“Talk to me, S,” he says as he answers with a press of a button.
“I’m so stupid,” she slurs dramatically. “So, so, so, so stupid.”
Cradling the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, he slides his watch back on. “You don’t sound stupid,” he notes absently. “You sound drunk. What have you been into?”
“Georgina,” Serena sighs.
Instantly, Chuck’s lungs constrict. No, no, no. Not possible. She was in Europe! She couldn’t be here. She couldn’t! Oh God. Oh God. Breathe, Bass, breathe. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t -
Fuck!!!
“Good news is she doesn’t want anything except to party,” the tipsy blonde rambles oblivious to his rising terror. “Bad news is I partied.”
“Care to paint a picture?” he drawls, hiding his anxiety behind innuendo. “Did this party require clothes?”
Serena ignores his sleazy comment. “I’m supposed to be at Dan’s studying,” she whines. “I called to tell him I’d be late, but not this late. I… I just have to call him and say - ”
“That instead of studying with him you’re out with your old pal Georgina?” he finishes, proud that he was able to speak the whore’s name without a tremor invading his voice.
“No, I don’t want him to know she exists. My mom, Blair, even you can’t stand her! Dan of all people cannot know Georgie,” she cries. “Can you help me?”
She should know that she doesn’t need to ask, but since she has, he may as well use it to his advantage. “Say you need me,” he teases.
“Chuck!” she wails in desperation.
“Hearing you scream my name is more than enough,” he assures her with a grin. “I’ll take care of it and pick you up in ten.”
Without waiting for her reply, he hangs up and immediately scrolls through his mobile’s phonebook until he reaches the entry listed as ‘BROOKLYN BAGGAGE’ and presses a key to call the number.
After just one ring, Dan picks up. “Hey! I’ve been wondering where you were,” he greets, his happiness at talking to his girlfriend quite evident.
Chuck cannot help but feel wicked glee at the charity case’s mistake. It means he gets to crush his excitement, and that makes him excited. “You mean all of your life?” he mocks.
“Hey, uh don’t take this the wrong way Serena but you sound just like this jackass we know,” Dan deadpans when he recognizes Chuck’s voice.
At the insult, irritation flares within Chuck. Fucking low class loser! “Serena has food poisoning,” he sneers. “She’s too sick to come to your play date.”
“Put her on the phone,” Dan orders like he is in any position to boss Chuck Bass around.
“The bathroom doesn’t get reception,” he lies smoothly.
Dan scoffs, “Somehow I don’t believe you.”
“And I’d like to say I’m a little glad about that, but my poor sick sister has asked for my assistance in the matter,” Chuck gloats. “So I’ll leave it at this. She’s not coming. Don’t try calling.” Then right before hanging up on the bastard, he adds, “Humphrey, always a pleasure.”
Now he just has to fetch his sister before the she gets into a worse mess.
A short limo ride later and Serena is climbing onto the leather seats. As the door shuts behind her, Chuck narrows his eyes at her in disapproval. She always was a sloppy drunk. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Chuck, I’m not in the mood,” she complains. “I’m tired. I just want to go home.”
“Yeah, well I want answers, and you’re not going anywhere until I get them,” he scowls. “So start talking.”
She exhales wearily. “About what?”
“How about why the hell didn’t you call me as soon as you discovered she was really here?” he suggests with venom.
For a long moment, she is quiet. “I don’t know,” she eventually confesses.
“You don’t know?” he grinds out, struggling to contain his frustration. “Did it not occur to you that I might want to know? That I might need to know?”
“Sorry, okay?” she snaps, her blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. “She caught me by surprise and said she just wanted to get a cocktail and catch up. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”
Chuck clenches his jaw, biting back the scathing remark that springs to his mind. The last thing he needs is for her to start bawling. “Not a big deal?” he repeats with extreme patience. “This is Georgina Sparks. Everything is a big deal with her. You of all people should know that.”
“I made an error in judgment, okay?” she whimpers. “It won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” he growls. “You can’t afford to make mistakes like this with her.”
Sensing his barely controlled temper, the blonde draws her knees up to her chest as she lowers her chin, hiding behind the cloud of her disheveled golden mane. “I know that.”
Seeing her curled into a fetal position, Chuck’s anger starts to evaporate. He feels an urge to wrap his arms around her, to comfort her, to tell her he isn’t mad, but he can’t. It wouldn’t help matters to coddle her. She fucked up, and in this instance she has to understand how badly she fucked up. One cannot take risks where Georgina is concerned and though she appears to have gotten away relatively unscathed this time, the next time she might not be so lucky. “So what did Whoregina really want?” he prompts instead, fisting his hands at his sides.
At the insulting nickname for their mutual mentor, Serena giggles. “Same thing the bitch always wants,” she groans when her laughter subsides. “To party. To raise hell. To cause a scene. To have fun.”
“That’s just fucking great,” Chuck snarls, raking his fingers through his hair, his shoulders tightening unconsciously.
“My sentiments exactly,” Serena agrees. “But thankfully she isn’t sticking around long. I think she said she was leaving in a couple days.”
He nods in relief, although his taut muscles do not relax. “Good,” he mutters, dying for a scotch. “But don’t see her again regardless. It isn’t safe.”
“Believe me, I am not planning on it,” she says emphatically. “If I ever see her again, it will be too soon.”
“So when you two were hanging out, I didn’t come up in conversation, did I?” he asks in trepidation, his stomach knotting with dread.
“No, and I didn’t bring you up either. You weren’t mentioned at all,” she reassures him.
“Thank God!”
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Thanks, Sis.”
Serena glowers at his arrogant smirk. “So what did Dan say when you called? You did call him, right?”
“I said I would, and I did,” Chuck sighs. “I was even polite.”
“Polite?” she exclaims. “Oh God. Now I’m worried.”
“Don’t be,” he snorts as the limo pulls up in front of the building they both used to live in. “I told him you had food poisoning and couldn’t come to the phone.”
“Did he accept that?”
“Not really,” he acknowledges. “You’ll have to sell it tomorrow.”
Opening the door and stepping onto the curb, she grimaces. “Okay. Food poisoning. I can do that. Thank you, Chuck. For everything.”
He waves her off. “Not a problem. It’s what we do. We’re family after all.”
“Yeah,” she grins in faux aggravation. “I guess we are.”
“Night Serena.”
“Night Chuck.”
The next morning on the drive to school, Chuck speed dials his private investigator. The fact that the hell spawn had made it to Manhattan without him being notified precisely as he was having her monitored is disturbing to say the least. They better have a decent excuse, or he might have to put a different PI on retainer.
He’s still on the phone with the agency when he arrives at Saint Jude’s and Dan approaches him in such a way that he obviously wants to talk.
Fabulous.
“Okay. Umm… yeah,” Chuck mumbles into the cell as he holds up a finger to stall the Brooklynite from interrupting. “I’m gonna have to call you back.” He hangs up, and without bothering to conceal his dislike turns towards his sister’s boyfriend. “Beautiful day you’re ruining, isn’t it?”
Humphrey’s forehead hardens in determination. “Do me a favor please and leave Serena alone.”
The self righteousness of his tone annoys Chuck immensely. “It was Serena I was doing the favor for,” he sneers.
“All I know is before spring break, everything was great. It was good. Now breaks over, she’s not quite herself. And I’m… I’m trying to think what is changed in her life,” the loser explains condescendingly. Then he clicks his fingers as if he’s had a goddamned epiphany. “Oh, the Bass family moved into it!” he accuses.
Chuck clenches his jaw and is just about to insinuate exactly what else the Bass family has moved into when Serena glides up to them. “Dan, hi,” she smiles, planting a quick kiss on the judgmental prick.
“Hey,” Dan replies, “How you feeling?”
“Good,” the blonde shrugs. “My migraine’s gone.”
Shit.
Idiotic Serena! Stupid bitch can’t ever keep her details straight. Furtively, Chuck shakes his head at her to signify she should shut up since she’s blown the excuse they’d made up, but from her furrowed brow, the gesture only succeeds in confusing her.
Nevertheless, her boyfriend is not confused. “Migraine?” Dan repeats, glancing skeptically at Chuck whose face has already transformed into a mask of bored indifference. “I thought it was food poisoning.”
“That came after,” she says lamely.
Doubtfully, Humphrey squints at her. “What exactly happened last night?”
Oh damn it all.
“I already told him,” Chuck blurts out, attempting to remind Serena of the story they’d concocted the night before. She had gotten food poisoning. It wasn’t that fucking hard a lie to remember!
Perhaps understanding what he is trying to do, Dan sticks out his palm, preventing Chuck from joining the conversation. “I’m asking you,” he stresses to Serena.
“Well I got food poisoning,” she swallows. “And then Chuck helped me out.”
Finally! She can be taught! It’s a miracle! Now everything should be in the clear…
But Dan is not about to let the issue go that easily. “Okay. Where exactly did you eat that you got this killer food poisoning migraine?” he inquires.
Serena fidgets under the questions in his eyes. “Can we stop the interrogation?”
“As soon as you tell me where my girlfriend is,” the charity case demands.
“I’m right here with you,” she coos, her voice half pleading.
Dan starts to speak, but the bell rings to warn that classes will be commencing shortly. “Look I… I gotta go to class,” he stammers. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”
Once he’s left, Chuck strides to Serena’s side again. “This is exactly why I didn’t want her to come back” S huffs. “She’s been back a day already and look what’s happening.”
“If it’s really that bad,” Chuck points out, “Why don’t you just tell him about her?”
Serena avoids his gaze. “I can’t. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Watching her hurry inside, Chuck is fairly positive that something more going on with Serena than he is currently aware of. He doesn’t have long to dwell on the nagging suspicion however, and by lunchtime, he has forgotten about it.
But the next morning, a frantic call from the blonde brings the feeling rushing back.
“Chuck? Chuck hey. I’m in trouble,” Serena nearly sobs over the line, her words tumbling out so fast that he isn’t able to form a coherent reply. “Look I think I can still make it but please go to Hunter and try to keep the doors open until I get there.”
“S?” he finally manages to say, only to discover she’s hung up.
What the hell? This has to be related to that sadistic whore. It is just too much of a coincidence for it not to be connected to her somehow.
Checking the time on his watch, he sees that there is no way Serena is going to be taking the SATs today. She’s got ten minutes to get there, and although he doesn’t know precisely where she is, if she was close by at all, she wouldn’t have needed him to try to delay them closing the doors.
Pacing in his suite, he dials a number. “Hello Sandra,” he drawls when a female voice answers. “Are you perchance at Hunter College right now? Good. It appears my friend will be needing your services today after all.”
Once the call is finished, Chuck lounges on his sofa sipping a scotch, fervently praying that the amber liquid will take the edge off his bad mood. When a gentle rapping occurs on his door, though, he is still pissed.
He opens his door, and there Serena stands looking like she’s just returned from one hell of a wild party. Her extremely rumpled appearance settles all remaining doubt. The golden girl had definitely spent an evening with the sadistic slut.
“What the fuck Serena?” he shouts as soon as she’s stepped inside. “I thought we agreed you weren’t ever going to see Georgina again.”
She flinches from his unexpected wrath. “I wasn’t, but then she called and begged and you know how manipulative she can be!” she wails. “She said we’d just have one drink! It’d only take an hour!”
“And you believed her? Of all the moronic…” He bites back the rest of his rant. It would not help matters at the moment, and he needs to try to remain calm as it is now quite evident that only one of them has any brains, and it is not her. “So what happened?”
“I… I don’t know,” she whispers.
Chuck’s vision begins to develop a slight reddish tinge. “You don’t know?” he scowls.
Guys do not hit girls. Guys do not hit girls. Guys do not hit girls.
“I don’t,” she gulps. “Honest. I ordered a Coke and then I got really tired all of a sudden and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a strange room somewhere.”
Instantly, all his anger at her fades. “Did you leave your drink?” he asks rapidly, grabbing her arms, searching her face, noting the ashen complexion, the glazed look in her eyes, the deep purple bags under them.
“What?” she blinks.
“At the bar,” he clarifies. “Did you leave your drink unattended?”
“No,” she denies. “Wait.. Maybe? I can’t remember.” She shakes her limp blonde hair helplessly. “Why?”
Oh sweet Jesus.
“She spiked your Coke and gave you a roofie,” he sighs, dropping his hands from her shoulders.
“What?!?!” she stutters in shock. “You think she…? No! No, not even Georgie would do something like that.”
“She most certainly would,” he states.
She snorts, still unconvinced. “How do you know?”
“I…” He clears his throat. “You’ll just have to trust me on this.”
She peers at him, her expression far too curious for his comfort at the moment. “Chuck, what is it you’re not telling - ”
Thankfully, her query is halted by another knock on Chuck’s door. Dashing from her to look out the peephole, he thinks he has never been so glad to see Dan Humphrey. “It’s Brooklyn, S.”
“Dan’s here?” she hisses.
He nods. “Yeah.”
She slumps against the wall. “Oh God.”
“You want me to send him away?”
“No. I’ll talk to him." She indicates that he should go back to the living room, looks through the peephole herself as if hoping her boyfriend had somehow magically disappeared, and then wearily opens the door.
“Hey,” Dan exhales in relief when he sees her. “Hey what’s going on?”
She pulls away, unconsciously trying to escape. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“No you’re not and you need to stop saying that,” Dan asserts. “Hey, where were you?”
Not about to let his sister be badgered, Chuck comes around the corner. “She was with me.”
“What he means is we were both at home,” Serena soothes quickly, seeing Dan misinterpreting Chuck’s statement. “My stomach started acting up again.”
“Oh. A food poisoning relapse?” Humphrey scoffs. “Look if… if you didn’t study enough and you freaked out I can - ”
“I told you I was sick,” she snaps, cutting him off.
“You paid someone else to take the SAT for you and that’s the best you can do?” Dan taunts.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the five foot nothing redhead claiming to be Serena van der Woodsen,” he observes sarcastically. “I’m… I’m pretty sure that wasn’t you.”
Serena turns towards her stepbrother. “Chuck, what did you do?” she glowers. “I told you to keep the doors open. When I got there they were closed.”
Not wanting to be drawn into the lover’s spat anymore than he already is, Chuck grimaces. “Yeah, they don’t keep the doors open. I was thinking on my feet. Just trying to help.”
Ignoring everything but Serena, Dan cradles her face. “I’m not mad,” he promises. “I’m just worried. I’ve been so worried about you. Please help me understand what’s going on here.”
His heartfelt plea almost makes Chuck feel sorry for the guy. Almost.
“Can we talk tomorrow?” Serena asks, not meeting Dan’s gaze. “I’ll call you.” Then, almost inaudibly she adds, “I’m sorry.”
For a long moment, Dan doesn’t move, just glances from Chuck to Serena several times. “I’m sorry too,” he acknowledges.
Stepping forward, Chuck starts to usher Dan from his suite until the other boy indicates there is no need and leaves on his own. Once the door clicks shut, Serena lashes out. “Chuck you went too far.”
“And so did you Sis,” he counters. “Look, I feel… foolish admitting it, but obviously I’ve come late to this party.”
“English please?”
He narrows his eyes at her. “What’s Georgina got on you?” he states bluntly.
Her breath catches. “Chuck - ”
“Dan I understand,” he muses aloud. “But what’s so bad you can’t even tell me?”
She turns and flees back to the wet bar. “It’s nothing.”
Following close behind, he calls her bluff. “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be acting this way.”
“Just drop it Chuck.”
“Serena,” he admonishes. “If you don’t let me know what’s going on I don’t know how to help you.”
She collapses onto a stool. “You can’t help me with this.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Okay, have it your way,” she fumes. “You want to know? Fine! Tell me your secret first.”
He feigns ignorance. “What secret?”
“Tell me what really happened between you and Georgina,” she grinds out. “Tell me why you hate her so much.”
“I don’t see how that - ”
“You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”
Clever cunning bitch.
“That isn’t fair,” he reminds her. “I already asked you to drop that.”
“And I’m asking you to drop this,” she retorts.
Touché, Goddamn it, touché
Knowing she has outmaneuvered him, he still cannot risk pressing one more time. “Is your secret really that bad?”
“Is yours?” she counters.
Fuck, she must be taking pointers from Blair in verbal sparring. It’s the only explanation.
“Okay then,” he concedes. “Subject’s closed. I won’t ask any more.” She smiles wanely, and slides off the chair to shuffle to the exit. “But seriously S,” he calls after her. “Whatever it is, whatever you’ve done, whatever she has on you, remember that you’ve seen enough of her to know how to hurt her where it counts as well. Don’t forget that, and don’t let her forget it either. Stand up for yourself. It’s the only way to be free of her. Believe me. I know.”
She tosses him a grateful look over her shoulder. “Thank you.”
He closes the door behind her and pads towards his couch, but there upon the leather cushions, partially obscured by an oversized throw pillow, is Serena’s purse. Grabbing it, he jogs back to the main hallway to see if she is still waiting for the elevator, but the blonde is already gone.
He whips out his phone and speed dials her, hoping she’s hasn’t left the building yet, but hangs up when he hears her cell ringing from inside the designer bag. Guess he’ll have to return it to her tomorrow after all.
Barely five minutes later, however, there is an insistent knocking at his door. He should have known she would return for it. Girls always carry important crap in their purses. It’s why the things weigh so damned much.
“Back so soon?” he leers expectantly as he opens the door, his mouth twisting into a lecherous grin. But the suggestive smile falters when he sees who is actually standing outside his suite.
“Hello Chucky.”
A/N: Sorry for the delay getting this up. I moved back into my adoptive parent's house for the summer, only to discover there are three children under five living with us now, which has been a huge adjustment. Plus, I started working my summer job. However I should have the next part up sooner as I am no longer the 'new' guest in the house, so the kids are starting to give me some time to myself, thank God! Anyway, I hope the wait was worth it and that you all enjoyed the chapter.
Author: cynicalshadows (a.k.a. Alicia)
Pairings/Characters: Chuck/Georgina, Chuck/Blair
Rating: R, also M for Mature, and D for DARK - Don't say I didn't warn you!
Chapter: 34?
Word Count: 6209
Spoilers: Season 1
Summary: We all have demons we can't escape, and even Chuck Bass had been innocent...once.
Well I remember, I remember don’t worry
How could I ever forget?
It’s the first time, the last time we ever met
But I know the reason why you keep your silence up
No you don’t fool me
The hurt doesn’t show, but the pain still grows
It’s no stranger to you or me
And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord
-Phil Collins-
The snapshot is in black and white rather than color, and the quality is quite grainy, but still the person in the image is undoubtedly her, and the time stamp is from late last evening. Thank God. The evil whore is in Alvaneu, Switzerland, and she’s gallivanting around under an assumed identity with a fucking prince whom she is presumably fucking. Will wonders never cease?
He shuffles to the next photograph. This one is a close up of the two lovebirds kissing, or more precisely, Georgina holding her face rigid while this elderly slob gropes her in public. Studying it, Chuck isn’t sure whether to laugh or gag. Probably the latter, he suspects.
Georgina had always been one to do whatever was necessary to assure her own survival, but this is low even for her. Sleeping with an older gentleman? Fine. Sleeping with this particular older gentleman? Gross. Prince or no prince, he is repulsive and way below her standards except in regards to money. She must really be hurting financially to have sunk to this level of desperation to maintain her lifestyle.
Then again, from the looks of it, it seems her habits have only increased. She’d always been rather slender because of her penchant for cocaine, but the bitch is damn near skeletal now. Looks like her enforced stint in rehab didn’t help her kick her addiction. Not surprising seeing as she appears to have skipped out on the treatments within two months of her arrival. But after being denied her fix for that long, her frequency of use had surely grown once she was liberated, and since her parents had cut off her allowance she couldn’t afford to get high on her own. Supporting her party girl ways was unquestionably her reason behind shacking up with the decrepit middle-aged fool. Of course, he’d also be easier to manipulate than a strapping young lad loaded with cash, so perhaps it isn’t that unexpected a move after all. Georgina is nothing if not strategic.
As is Chuck Bass if he thinks about it.
This is why he’s arranged to have a wad of hundred dollar bills in his pocket this morning along with an ID that reads “Charles Bass,” although the boy in the picture is decidedly not him. The forgery is good, will withstand scrutiny, and thus free him from having to take this blasted exam known as the SAT himself.
The SAT is just a formality anyway. It really doesn’t matter what his score is so long as he has one. As if any college is seriously going to risk rejecting an application from the son of one of the wealthiest men in the country? In this instance, he’s like one of those Hollywood celebrities who attend Ivy Leagues. He’ll bring prestige to the campus, and the university can then brag that so-and-so got their degree from Yale or Harvard or wherever. It makes the school look good, and having an alumni who’s going to inherit a fortune doesn’t hurt.
Frankly, the majority of the kids in the Upper East Side don’t have to worry about the SATs, and yet they will. They’ll fret over it and cram for hours on end, preferring to delude themselves into believing that their test score or their essay or their grade in AP Calculus matters when the truth is it’s their last name and only their last name that the admissions office gives a shit about.
Some of the students at Saint Jude’s and Constance will, of course, need excellent scores, but not most of them. Certainly not Chuck, being the sole heir of Bass Industries, nor Serena with her mother’s upcoming marriage adding her under the umbrella of the Bass family. Not Nathaniel with his grandfather having half the Senate in his back pocket. Not Blair with her mother’s clothing designs beginning to become red carpet regulars. But still, they will all strive for the perfect score anyway just so that they can try to convince themselves that they got in on their own merits and not thanks to the hands of fate that had them born into power and privilege rather than poverty.
All of them, that is, except Chuck. He knows better than to stress over the results of an exam that does not figure at all into his college acceptance. The score is just a hoop one has to jump through. He could easily take the test himself, but why bother if it doesn’t count? He would rather spend his time on other more leisurely pursuits instead. Besides, the score can be acquired easily enough with the right connections and a little cash, and as he’s going to pay someone else to take it for him anyway, he may as well make sure that person is the male equivalent of Nelly Yuki so he gets his money’s worth.
One 90th percentile score coming right up.
After exiting his limo and the surreptitious SAT transaction, Chuck heads to the courtyard. Serena will most likely be there, and she will definitely want to hear the good news about the status of their cruel mentor. As he steps out of the building however, his feet halt at who he spots seated next to the blonde.
It’s Blair. Blair with her immaculate curls and a teasing expression. Blair in a bright yellow jacket and an orange headband that matches his own coat exactly. Blair who hasn’t said two words to him after he had refused to sleep with her after rescuing her from Victrola last week and has been doing her damndest to ignore him ever since.
Seeing her, his heart flutters. Maybe today will be the day that she -
But no. Some bimbo hanging out in the doorway misinterprets his pausing there, thinking he had done it because of her. The slut touches his chest in an overly-familiar gesture, her smile an even more obvious indication that they have fucked at one time or another and she’d love a second round. Blair’s vigilant gaze zeroes in on them before Chuck can shrug the desperate girl off.
Shit.
Her face instantly closes down. She turns towards Serena, rapidly shoving things into her bag. Understanding that she is attempting to avoid talking to him again, Chuck begins moving forward. But Blair is already rising, gliding past him almost as if he were not even there. Then at the last possible second, her eyes harden into a frosty glare.
Well that’s an improvement. At least she deigned to acknowledge him this time.
“She really needs to tone down on the social niceties,” Chuck observes wryly as he takes the seat next to Serena that Blair had just vacated. “It’s embarrassing.”
The blonde shakes her head. “Eventually the two of you are gonna have to work out your issues.”
“What issues?” he taunts. “I’m issue free.”
And he is. Where Blair is concerned, he finally is. He’d said all he needed to say to her that night in the limo and she’d said enough back to give him hope that she felt the same. She’d been sloppy drunk, of course, but if her behavior the last few days is any indication, she remembers what he said. He had assumed she wouldn’t, but she obviously does. Why else would she be trying so valiantly to act like he doesn’t exist? It’s the simplest way to pretend the entire conversation had never happened, and it is what she always does when her life doesn’t go according to the movie she’s envisioned in her head. She’s editing out the parts that aren’t following the script.
But it’s a bit too late to erase everything that happened between them in the limo after the rescue. She’s tipped her hand and Chuck knows she cares just as much as he does. They are inevitable and he isn’t going to give up ever again. Now he just has to be patient and persistent and wear her down until she admits it too. And if that confession has to be earned one scathing look at a time, so be it!
For now, however, he has other business to attend to. Information that Serena is almost as anxious to know as he had been.
“And uh… based on my exhaustive research,” he announces, “So are you.”
The golden waif perks up at that, tearing her eyes away from the SAT prep program she’d been fiddling with. “Georgina?” she asks eagerly.
“According to my very reliable sources, Georgina Sparks is nowhere near our fair isle,” Chuck confirms. “She’s in Switzerland dating the Prince of Belfort.”
Serena squints for a moment, as if not trusting she’d heard him correctly. “There’s a Prince of Belfort?” she repeats. “And she’s dating him?” Chuck nods slightly, and suddenly she is bursting into a grin. “Oh thank God!”
He smirks at her obvious relief. “Now you can enjoy the gifts she mailed you with peace of mind,” he leers, leaning into her suggestively. “And maybe Chuck in the room.”
“Oh shoot, except we’re siblings,” she groans in disgust, shoving his face away with an open palm.
“Georgie always brought out the devil in you. There’s a part of me that’s a little disappointed she’s not here,” he admits.
“Hmm… I wonder which part?” she muses sardonically.
“It’s been a while since I saw the old Serena,” he clarifies quickly. He does not want Georgina to visit under any circumstances, but lately he does miss Serena being his party pal. They used to associate frequently when the psychotic bitch still resided in Manhattan, naturally gravitating towards one another in the chaos-filled dens of drinks and drugs and depravity. They hadn’t been friends, and they were never close, but they had been there for one another in a way no one else ever was. They constantly watched out for each other, prevented the other from doing anything especially stupid, took care of the other when things got out of hand.
How often had he held Serena’s hair back when she vomited from drinking too much? How many times had she phoned Arthur to pick up his charge when Chuck over imbibed and was in danger of passing out at some stranger’s house? How many evenings had they fled together when Georgina’s wild ways got out of control and the festivities stopped being fun?
The insidious wild nights of the Upper East Side had done the impossible, had bonded them together after the sadistic slut’s lies had destroyed their childhood camaraderie. It had allowed them to reach a level of understanding that had no words.
Then Serena had fled to boarding school, and when she returned, she was reformed and wanted nothing to do with Chuck once again. He was a reminder of her old life, the one she was attempting to forget, and so she moved on without him. At the time, he hadn’t minded much. He had other people to hang out with. In Serena’s absence he’d grown close to Blair, and of course he’d still been best friends with Nate.
But now things were different. Nathaniel was no longer talking to him, and Blair acted like she despised him one moment and begged to sleep with him the next. The cornerstones of his social identity were basically gone, and he needed one of them to return so he didn’t feel so fucking lost. The old Serena, the carefree Serena, the ‘I can drink you under the table’ Serena would fit the bill.
“Well thanks to her,” the blonde continues, “The new one has to break a 2000 of her SATs so if you could just go smarm elsewhere.”
“The offer still stands,” he reminds her as he rises from the table. “I know a, uh lovely little redhead that’s just dying to be you for the day.”
She smiles. “I’ll leave the cheating to you Chuck. I plan on taking the SATs myself.”
He walks away, the edge of his lips twitching in irony. He’d already explained to her the other day the pointlessness of taking the exam herself, but she still seems intent on doing so despite him making arrangements so she wouldn’t have to bother with it.
Typical.
Glancing at his watch, he sees that he still has some time before first period begins. Maybe now would be an ideal opportunity to begin phase one of wear down the Waldorf. He had already gotten one glare today. Might as well try for two.
Strolling inside and up the stairs to the Constance hallway, Chuck locates Blair’s locker and leans against it. She always grabs whatever book she needs for her first class before the morning bell, and today she is going to have to deal with him in order to get it.
Sure enough, five minutes later the chestnut haired beauty rounds the corner. Sometimes he loves that she is so predictable.
With an air of extreme annoyance, she approaches, stopping only once she is directly in front of him. Standing there fuming, she stares coldly at him while he arches a brow back at her, daring her to say something.
After several tense seconds, she rolls her eyes. “Bass, I don’t have time for this. Get off.”
He manages to keep his expression neutral. “Are you volunteering again?” he inquires with practiced nonchalance.
She blinks in confusion. “To do what?”
“To get me off,” he winks. Really she walked right into that one.
“Hardly,” she scowls. “Been there. Done that. Been decontaminated.”
“Didn’t seem that way last week,” he can’t resist pointing out.
She sighs, a loud exasperated noise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lies.
“No?” he snorts. “I can remind you if you’d like. I’d love to.”
“That won’t be nec - ”
“Oh but it is,” he asserts, cutting off her protest. He reaches out to touch the hem of her skirt. “I believe you crawled into my lap and pleaded for me to - ”
“You’re a pig!” she hisses, slapping his hand away.
“Flattery will get you nowhere Waldorf.”
“Get off my locker Basshole,” she snaps.
“What’s the magic word?” he goads, crossing his arms behind his head.
“Now!” She stabs a finger into his chest with such force that it fucking hurts. He’ll probably have a bruise.
“What did I tell you about playing rough?” he winces, rubbing the soreness.
“I’ll show you exactly how rough I can be if you don’t get the hell off my locker!” she threatens with the slightest of snarls.
In response, Chuck’s mouth twists in amusement. She looks so damn sexy when she’s pissed. The flush anger brings to her cheeks, the fierceness that smolders in her chocolate eyes, the defiant set of her lips that just beg to be kissed into submission; it never fails to arouse him. “Is that a promise?” he taunts, his voice a seductive caress.
At his words, her breath catches in her throat. She swallows, her haughty demeanor slipping under the intensity of his magnetic gaze, silently challenging her to contradict what they both know to be true. “You nauseate me,” she finally manages to whisper without being able to break eye contact.
“That’s not nausea, princess,” he explains softly, stepping closer. “That’s butterflies.”
“You wish,” she insists, although her overall tone lacks conviction.
“So do you,” he counters smugly.
“I do not!” she spits, her inner fire surfacing from beneath her frosty exterior. To punctuate her denial, she shakes her head so adamantly that some of her chestnut tresses swing free from the restraint of her orange headband.
Seeing it, he unexpectedly tucks the stray curl behind her ear, fingering the silken strand before meeting her eyes again. “Yes, you do,” he states, dropping his hand from her hair before she can pull back.
Then he saunters away leaving her there, never glancing behind him to check to see if she is watching, more than confident that she will be gaping after him until he disappears from view.
Later than evening he’s changing out of the suit he’d worn right after school into something more comfortable when his cell rings. He peeks at the caller ID.
- SERENA -
“Talk to me, S,” he says as he answers with a press of a button.
“I’m so stupid,” she slurs dramatically. “So, so, so, so stupid.”
Cradling the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, he slides his watch back on. “You don’t sound stupid,” he notes absently. “You sound drunk. What have you been into?”
“Georgina,” Serena sighs.
Instantly, Chuck’s lungs constrict. No, no, no. Not possible. She was in Europe! She couldn’t be here. She couldn’t! Oh God. Oh God. Breathe, Bass, breathe. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t -
Fuck!!!
“Good news is she doesn’t want anything except to party,” the tipsy blonde rambles oblivious to his rising terror. “Bad news is I partied.”
“Care to paint a picture?” he drawls, hiding his anxiety behind innuendo. “Did this party require clothes?”
Serena ignores his sleazy comment. “I’m supposed to be at Dan’s studying,” she whines. “I called to tell him I’d be late, but not this late. I… I just have to call him and say - ”
“That instead of studying with him you’re out with your old pal Georgina?” he finishes, proud that he was able to speak the whore’s name without a tremor invading his voice.
“No, I don’t want him to know she exists. My mom, Blair, even you can’t stand her! Dan of all people cannot know Georgie,” she cries. “Can you help me?”
She should know that she doesn’t need to ask, but since she has, he may as well use it to his advantage. “Say you need me,” he teases.
“Chuck!” she wails in desperation.
“Hearing you scream my name is more than enough,” he assures her with a grin. “I’ll take care of it and pick you up in ten.”
Without waiting for her reply, he hangs up and immediately scrolls through his mobile’s phonebook until he reaches the entry listed as ‘BROOKLYN BAGGAGE’ and presses a key to call the number.
After just one ring, Dan picks up. “Hey! I’ve been wondering where you were,” he greets, his happiness at talking to his girlfriend quite evident.
Chuck cannot help but feel wicked glee at the charity case’s mistake. It means he gets to crush his excitement, and that makes him excited. “You mean all of your life?” he mocks.
“Hey, uh don’t take this the wrong way Serena but you sound just like this jackass we know,” Dan deadpans when he recognizes Chuck’s voice.
At the insult, irritation flares within Chuck. Fucking low class loser! “Serena has food poisoning,” he sneers. “She’s too sick to come to your play date.”
“Put her on the phone,” Dan orders like he is in any position to boss Chuck Bass around.
“The bathroom doesn’t get reception,” he lies smoothly.
Dan scoffs, “Somehow I don’t believe you.”
“And I’d like to say I’m a little glad about that, but my poor sick sister has asked for my assistance in the matter,” Chuck gloats. “So I’ll leave it at this. She’s not coming. Don’t try calling.” Then right before hanging up on the bastard, he adds, “Humphrey, always a pleasure.”
Now he just has to fetch his sister before the she gets into a worse mess.
A short limo ride later and Serena is climbing onto the leather seats. As the door shuts behind her, Chuck narrows his eyes at her in disapproval. She always was a sloppy drunk. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Chuck, I’m not in the mood,” she complains. “I’m tired. I just want to go home.”
“Yeah, well I want answers, and you’re not going anywhere until I get them,” he scowls. “So start talking.”
She exhales wearily. “About what?”
“How about why the hell didn’t you call me as soon as you discovered she was really here?” he suggests with venom.
For a long moment, she is quiet. “I don’t know,” she eventually confesses.
“You don’t know?” he grinds out, struggling to contain his frustration. “Did it not occur to you that I might want to know? That I might need to know?”
“Sorry, okay?” she snaps, her blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. “She caught me by surprise and said she just wanted to get a cocktail and catch up. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”
Chuck clenches his jaw, biting back the scathing remark that springs to his mind. The last thing he needs is for her to start bawling. “Not a big deal?” he repeats with extreme patience. “This is Georgina Sparks. Everything is a big deal with her. You of all people should know that.”
“I made an error in judgment, okay?” she whimpers. “It won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” he growls. “You can’t afford to make mistakes like this with her.”
Sensing his barely controlled temper, the blonde draws her knees up to her chest as she lowers her chin, hiding behind the cloud of her disheveled golden mane. “I know that.”
Seeing her curled into a fetal position, Chuck’s anger starts to evaporate. He feels an urge to wrap his arms around her, to comfort her, to tell her he isn’t mad, but he can’t. It wouldn’t help matters to coddle her. She fucked up, and in this instance she has to understand how badly she fucked up. One cannot take risks where Georgina is concerned and though she appears to have gotten away relatively unscathed this time, the next time she might not be so lucky. “So what did Whoregina really want?” he prompts instead, fisting his hands at his sides.
At the insulting nickname for their mutual mentor, Serena giggles. “Same thing the bitch always wants,” she groans when her laughter subsides. “To party. To raise hell. To cause a scene. To have fun.”
“That’s just fucking great,” Chuck snarls, raking his fingers through his hair, his shoulders tightening unconsciously.
“My sentiments exactly,” Serena agrees. “But thankfully she isn’t sticking around long. I think she said she was leaving in a couple days.”
He nods in relief, although his taut muscles do not relax. “Good,” he mutters, dying for a scotch. “But don’t see her again regardless. It isn’t safe.”
“Believe me, I am not planning on it,” she says emphatically. “If I ever see her again, it will be too soon.”
“So when you two were hanging out, I didn’t come up in conversation, did I?” he asks in trepidation, his stomach knotting with dread.
“No, and I didn’t bring you up either. You weren’t mentioned at all,” she reassures him.
“Thank God!”
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Thanks, Sis.”
Serena glowers at his arrogant smirk. “So what did Dan say when you called? You did call him, right?”
“I said I would, and I did,” Chuck sighs. “I was even polite.”
“Polite?” she exclaims. “Oh God. Now I’m worried.”
“Don’t be,” he snorts as the limo pulls up in front of the building they both used to live in. “I told him you had food poisoning and couldn’t come to the phone.”
“Did he accept that?”
“Not really,” he acknowledges. “You’ll have to sell it tomorrow.”
Opening the door and stepping onto the curb, she grimaces. “Okay. Food poisoning. I can do that. Thank you, Chuck. For everything.”
He waves her off. “Not a problem. It’s what we do. We’re family after all.”
“Yeah,” she grins in faux aggravation. “I guess we are.”
“Night Serena.”
“Night Chuck.”
The next morning on the drive to school, Chuck speed dials his private investigator. The fact that the hell spawn had made it to Manhattan without him being notified precisely as he was having her monitored is disturbing to say the least. They better have a decent excuse, or he might have to put a different PI on retainer.
He’s still on the phone with the agency when he arrives at Saint Jude’s and Dan approaches him in such a way that he obviously wants to talk.
Fabulous.
“Okay. Umm… yeah,” Chuck mumbles into the cell as he holds up a finger to stall the Brooklynite from interrupting. “I’m gonna have to call you back.” He hangs up, and without bothering to conceal his dislike turns towards his sister’s boyfriend. “Beautiful day you’re ruining, isn’t it?”
Humphrey’s forehead hardens in determination. “Do me a favor please and leave Serena alone.”
The self righteousness of his tone annoys Chuck immensely. “It was Serena I was doing the favor for,” he sneers.
“All I know is before spring break, everything was great. It was good. Now breaks over, she’s not quite herself. And I’m… I’m trying to think what is changed in her life,” the loser explains condescendingly. Then he clicks his fingers as if he’s had a goddamned epiphany. “Oh, the Bass family moved into it!” he accuses.
Chuck clenches his jaw and is just about to insinuate exactly what else the Bass family has moved into when Serena glides up to them. “Dan, hi,” she smiles, planting a quick kiss on the judgmental prick.
“Hey,” Dan replies, “How you feeling?”
“Good,” the blonde shrugs. “My migraine’s gone.”
Shit.
Idiotic Serena! Stupid bitch can’t ever keep her details straight. Furtively, Chuck shakes his head at her to signify she should shut up since she’s blown the excuse they’d made up, but from her furrowed brow, the gesture only succeeds in confusing her.
Nevertheless, her boyfriend is not confused. “Migraine?” Dan repeats, glancing skeptically at Chuck whose face has already transformed into a mask of bored indifference. “I thought it was food poisoning.”
“That came after,” she says lamely.
Doubtfully, Humphrey squints at her. “What exactly happened last night?”
Oh damn it all.
“I already told him,” Chuck blurts out, attempting to remind Serena of the story they’d concocted the night before. She had gotten food poisoning. It wasn’t that fucking hard a lie to remember!
Perhaps understanding what he is trying to do, Dan sticks out his palm, preventing Chuck from joining the conversation. “I’m asking you,” he stresses to Serena.
“Well I got food poisoning,” she swallows. “And then Chuck helped me out.”
Finally! She can be taught! It’s a miracle! Now everything should be in the clear…
But Dan is not about to let the issue go that easily. “Okay. Where exactly did you eat that you got this killer food poisoning migraine?” he inquires.
Serena fidgets under the questions in his eyes. “Can we stop the interrogation?”
“As soon as you tell me where my girlfriend is,” the charity case demands.
“I’m right here with you,” she coos, her voice half pleading.
Dan starts to speak, but the bell rings to warn that classes will be commencing shortly. “Look I… I gotta go to class,” he stammers. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”
Once he’s left, Chuck strides to Serena’s side again. “This is exactly why I didn’t want her to come back” S huffs. “She’s been back a day already and look what’s happening.”
“If it’s really that bad,” Chuck points out, “Why don’t you just tell him about her?”
Serena avoids his gaze. “I can’t. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Watching her hurry inside, Chuck is fairly positive that something more going on with Serena than he is currently aware of. He doesn’t have long to dwell on the nagging suspicion however, and by lunchtime, he has forgotten about it.
But the next morning, a frantic call from the blonde brings the feeling rushing back.
“Chuck? Chuck hey. I’m in trouble,” Serena nearly sobs over the line, her words tumbling out so fast that he isn’t able to form a coherent reply. “Look I think I can still make it but please go to Hunter and try to keep the doors open until I get there.”
“S?” he finally manages to say, only to discover she’s hung up.
What the hell? This has to be related to that sadistic whore. It is just too much of a coincidence for it not to be connected to her somehow.
Checking the time on his watch, he sees that there is no way Serena is going to be taking the SATs today. She’s got ten minutes to get there, and although he doesn’t know precisely where she is, if she was close by at all, she wouldn’t have needed him to try to delay them closing the doors.
Pacing in his suite, he dials a number. “Hello Sandra,” he drawls when a female voice answers. “Are you perchance at Hunter College right now? Good. It appears my friend will be needing your services today after all.”
Once the call is finished, Chuck lounges on his sofa sipping a scotch, fervently praying that the amber liquid will take the edge off his bad mood. When a gentle rapping occurs on his door, though, he is still pissed.
He opens his door, and there Serena stands looking like she’s just returned from one hell of a wild party. Her extremely rumpled appearance settles all remaining doubt. The golden girl had definitely spent an evening with the sadistic slut.
“What the fuck Serena?” he shouts as soon as she’s stepped inside. “I thought we agreed you weren’t ever going to see Georgina again.”
She flinches from his unexpected wrath. “I wasn’t, but then she called and begged and you know how manipulative she can be!” she wails. “She said we’d just have one drink! It’d only take an hour!”
“And you believed her? Of all the moronic…” He bites back the rest of his rant. It would not help matters at the moment, and he needs to try to remain calm as it is now quite evident that only one of them has any brains, and it is not her. “So what happened?”
“I… I don’t know,” she whispers.
Chuck’s vision begins to develop a slight reddish tinge. “You don’t know?” he scowls.
Guys do not hit girls. Guys do not hit girls. Guys do not hit girls.
“I don’t,” she gulps. “Honest. I ordered a Coke and then I got really tired all of a sudden and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a strange room somewhere.”
Instantly, all his anger at her fades. “Did you leave your drink?” he asks rapidly, grabbing her arms, searching her face, noting the ashen complexion, the glazed look in her eyes, the deep purple bags under them.
“What?” she blinks.
“At the bar,” he clarifies. “Did you leave your drink unattended?”
“No,” she denies. “Wait.. Maybe? I can’t remember.” She shakes her limp blonde hair helplessly. “Why?”
Oh sweet Jesus.
“She spiked your Coke and gave you a roofie,” he sighs, dropping his hands from her shoulders.
“What?!?!” she stutters in shock. “You think she…? No! No, not even Georgie would do something like that.”
“She most certainly would,” he states.
She snorts, still unconvinced. “How do you know?”
“I…” He clears his throat. “You’ll just have to trust me on this.”
She peers at him, her expression far too curious for his comfort at the moment. “Chuck, what is it you’re not telling - ”
Thankfully, her query is halted by another knock on Chuck’s door. Dashing from her to look out the peephole, he thinks he has never been so glad to see Dan Humphrey. “It’s Brooklyn, S.”
“Dan’s here?” she hisses.
He nods. “Yeah.”
She slumps against the wall. “Oh God.”
“You want me to send him away?”
“No. I’ll talk to him." She indicates that he should go back to the living room, looks through the peephole herself as if hoping her boyfriend had somehow magically disappeared, and then wearily opens the door.
“Hey,” Dan exhales in relief when he sees her. “Hey what’s going on?”
She pulls away, unconsciously trying to escape. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“No you’re not and you need to stop saying that,” Dan asserts. “Hey, where were you?”
Not about to let his sister be badgered, Chuck comes around the corner. “She was with me.”
“What he means is we were both at home,” Serena soothes quickly, seeing Dan misinterpreting Chuck’s statement. “My stomach started acting up again.”
“Oh. A food poisoning relapse?” Humphrey scoffs. “Look if… if you didn’t study enough and you freaked out I can - ”
“I told you I was sick,” she snaps, cutting him off.
“You paid someone else to take the SAT for you and that’s the best you can do?” Dan taunts.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the five foot nothing redhead claiming to be Serena van der Woodsen,” he observes sarcastically. “I’m… I’m pretty sure that wasn’t you.”
Serena turns towards her stepbrother. “Chuck, what did you do?” she glowers. “I told you to keep the doors open. When I got there they were closed.”
Not wanting to be drawn into the lover’s spat anymore than he already is, Chuck grimaces. “Yeah, they don’t keep the doors open. I was thinking on my feet. Just trying to help.”
Ignoring everything but Serena, Dan cradles her face. “I’m not mad,” he promises. “I’m just worried. I’ve been so worried about you. Please help me understand what’s going on here.”
His heartfelt plea almost makes Chuck feel sorry for the guy. Almost.
“Can we talk tomorrow?” Serena asks, not meeting Dan’s gaze. “I’ll call you.” Then, almost inaudibly she adds, “I’m sorry.”
For a long moment, Dan doesn’t move, just glances from Chuck to Serena several times. “I’m sorry too,” he acknowledges.
Stepping forward, Chuck starts to usher Dan from his suite until the other boy indicates there is no need and leaves on his own. Once the door clicks shut, Serena lashes out. “Chuck you went too far.”
“And so did you Sis,” he counters. “Look, I feel… foolish admitting it, but obviously I’ve come late to this party.”
“English please?”
He narrows his eyes at her. “What’s Georgina got on you?” he states bluntly.
Her breath catches. “Chuck - ”
“Dan I understand,” he muses aloud. “But what’s so bad you can’t even tell me?”
She turns and flees back to the wet bar. “It’s nothing.”
Following close behind, he calls her bluff. “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be acting this way.”
“Just drop it Chuck.”
“Serena,” he admonishes. “If you don’t let me know what’s going on I don’t know how to help you.”
She collapses onto a stool. “You can’t help me with this.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Okay, have it your way,” she fumes. “You want to know? Fine! Tell me your secret first.”
He feigns ignorance. “What secret?”
“Tell me what really happened between you and Georgina,” she grinds out. “Tell me why you hate her so much.”
“I don’t see how that - ”
“You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”
Clever cunning bitch.
“That isn’t fair,” he reminds her. “I already asked you to drop that.”
“And I’m asking you to drop this,” she retorts.
Touché, Goddamn it, touché
Knowing she has outmaneuvered him, he still cannot risk pressing one more time. “Is your secret really that bad?”
“Is yours?” she counters.
Fuck, she must be taking pointers from Blair in verbal sparring. It’s the only explanation.
“Okay then,” he concedes. “Subject’s closed. I won’t ask any more.” She smiles wanely, and slides off the chair to shuffle to the exit. “But seriously S,” he calls after her. “Whatever it is, whatever you’ve done, whatever she has on you, remember that you’ve seen enough of her to know how to hurt her where it counts as well. Don’t forget that, and don’t let her forget it either. Stand up for yourself. It’s the only way to be free of her. Believe me. I know.”
She tosses him a grateful look over her shoulder. “Thank you.”
He closes the door behind her and pads towards his couch, but there upon the leather cushions, partially obscured by an oversized throw pillow, is Serena’s purse. Grabbing it, he jogs back to the main hallway to see if she is still waiting for the elevator, but the blonde is already gone.
He whips out his phone and speed dials her, hoping she’s hasn’t left the building yet, but hangs up when he hears her cell ringing from inside the designer bag. Guess he’ll have to return it to her tomorrow after all.
Barely five minutes later, however, there is an insistent knocking at his door. He should have known she would return for it. Girls always carry important crap in their purses. It’s why the things weigh so damned much.
“Back so soon?” he leers expectantly as he opens the door, his mouth twisting into a lecherous grin. But the suggestive smile falters when he sees who is actually standing outside his suite.
“Hello Chucky.”
A/N: Sorry for the delay getting this up. I moved back into my adoptive parent's house for the summer, only to discover there are three children under five living with us now, which has been a huge adjustment. Plus, I started working my summer job. However I should have the next part up sooner as I am no longer the 'new' guest in the house, so the kids are starting to give me some time to myself, thank God! Anyway, I hope the wait was worth it and that you all enjoyed the chapter.