A/N: Hello readers! I want to sincerely apologize for the lag in my updates. Life has been really crazy for me these past couple months, and my writing fell by the wayside. Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope the chapter is worth the wait!


Chapter 53: Bass vs. Bass


On the Upper East Side, everyone has a closet full of skeletons, and starting today, Bart Bass is having his cleared out. Publicly. Who would have thought that a suspicious fire, deceased wife, and a sudden business takeover by his brother would all converge in the court room? I can tell you who didn't see it coming; our very own C and E. While innocent until proven guilty may be one of the leading principles in a court of law, it doesn't apply to our ZIP code. Bart Bass is already guilty before innocent, and all that remains is his trial to prove it. Anyone willing to take bets on if he'll walk free? Mark your prediction in the poll below.

The first thing Bart noticed when the limo neared the courthouse on that dull and rainy February morning were the crowds. Clusters of people stood on the slippery sidewalks carrying colourful signs of defiance. They marched with their signs held high, with slogans reading: "PEOPLE BEFORE PROFITS", "GREED KILLS", and "HOW MUCH IS A LIFE WORTH?".

"Well this is a surprise," Lily said beside him. She wore black sunglasses, and her carefully painted lips were curved in a frown.

Frank looked over his shoulder, equally perplexed. "You have your defenders and detractors online and off apparently."

While Bart recognized the magnitude of his case, he didn't think it warranted everyone's attention in this way. As he read each sign that passed, Bart was astounded that everyone carried strong opinions of him without even knowing the first thing about him.

"Pay no attention to them, Bart," Frank's assistant, Jenna said. "Their opinions don't matter. From now on, the only people whose opinions we care about is the jury's."

Bart turned his attention to the binder on his lap. He had memorized the contents of the case as Frank's suggestion. He knew his story. He alone knew the most of what was true. The people outside didn't. Lily didn't. His brother Jack didn't. All they knew was how to judge.

"How are you feeling, Bart?" Frank asked.

"Ready."

"Good, man." Frank patted him on the arm.

The limo slowed to the curb, and the paparazzi began to swarm the car. A security officer cleared a path and opened the car door. Frank stepped out first, then Jenna, and Bart followed after. He gripped onto Lily's hand tight and braced himself for the blinding flashes of light.

The paparazzi shouted questions, and the protesters heckled. Bart focused on putting one step in front of the other while tuning out the noise. It worked for him in the past. When everyone doubted his idea that ended up becoming Bass Industries, he stayed true to his vision and didn't listen.

Now, he needed to do the same.


Evelyn hustled up the stone steps of Constance despite knowing that she was already late for morning assembly. Evelyn figured that if she ran fast enough, she could snag a seat in the back pews undetected. She could avoid the questioning looks, sneers, or whispers about the trial that had only just begun.

As Evelyn approached the chapel, the doors swung open, and students poured out into the halls. Upper and lower-class students alike snickered as they passed.

"Got a light, Bass?" A junior joked on his way past her.

"Yes, so you better keep walking, or I'll use it," Evelyn said.

"Hey, Bass! Where's the fire?" Another junior joked. His friends punched his arm playfully as they laughed together.

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "How original."

Sera, Catherine, and Lila all glared at her while Kate's gaze focused on her new Prada shoes.

"You know what they say ladies," Catherine said. "The early bird doesn't get burned."

Sera and Lila laughed. Kate forced a laugh with them, and they kept walking.

Ozzy and Dash were among the last students who ambled out of the chapel. Upon seeing Evelyn, Dash said something to Ozzy, nodded at her and disappeared down the St. Jude's hallway.

"Hey," Ozzy said, kissing her.

"If you have another fire joke, please save it," Evelyn said, leaning into his arms.

"That's too bad. I had a good one saved up."

"Ozzy, please. Today's a very serious day."

"Of course, it is. The trial's started?"

"As of five minutes ago," Evelyn said as they walked to her locker, hand in hand.

"You okay? It's not like you to be late."

"I'm fine. I just wanted to avoid as much attention as possible."

"It's a bit late for that isn't it?"

Evelyn stopped at her locker and twisted the dial. "Unfortunately."

"So, what's going to happen next?"

Evelyn stacked her binders and picked up her textbooks. "They're beginning with opening statements and then they will start interviewing witnesses and examining evidence. Aunt Kim thinks it's going to take weeks to get through it all."

It was a small comfort to know the exact proceedings of the trial. Before Aunt Kim and her father talked, Evelyn was spinning in the dark. After discussing the case with both of them, Evelyn now had a map for reference.

"And your dad?"

"He's okay," Evelyn said. "He's trying to play it cool, but I think he's rattled."

Although Evelyn was still wary of her father, she did notice a nervousness to him, an absent mindedness that he'd never expressed before. He was always so calculated, sharp, and observant. Now, he was distant, forgetful, and apprehensive.

While Evelyn remained cautious around her father, they were on speaking terms, and that was a significant improvement from Christmas.

"How could he not be rattled?" Ozzy said. "It's a lot of pressure."

"To people like Gossip Girl, it's nothing like a game where you can make bets. Like a horse race."

"Oh, come on. You know better than to listen to her of all people," Ozzy said.

"I know. It just annoys me that probably everyone in this hallway has participated in that poll she posted this morning."

"Hey, Bass!" A senior named Wyatt Anderson said across the hall. "I just want you to know that I don't trust what the media says. I'm on your side. I always like to see an underdog win, and I believe your dad's going to win this. Even though his odds are two to one, I'm betting on him."

Evelyn slammed her locker door shut, ready to rebut him when Ozzy stepped forward and said, "No one cares, Wyatt. Do yourself a favor and get lost."

Wyatt's friends oohed at Ozzy's comment, forcing a flustered Wyatt to retreat to his homeroom class.

Ozzy shook his head and turned his attention back to Evelyn. "Don't listen to them. They're just trying to rile you up."

"How do we stop it from working?"

"From what I've been told, we're not supposed to give what they say any power."

"And how exactly is that possible?"

"Distractions help," Ozzy shrugged.

One of the only distractions Evelyn had was daydreaming. And since their ice-skating date, Evelyn wasn't content anymore with daydreaming. There was a better distraction available, and he was standing right in front of her.

Evelyn leaned forward and kissed him. She ran her fingers through his hair, and they rested at the nape of his neck.

"Is there any way you can distract me after school?"

Ozzy's hands circled her waist. "I would find ways, but my dad's expecting me afterschool."

"You two have been spending a lot of time together lately."

"Yeah. It's been…interesting."

"That's what you keep telling me. What are you going to do?"

"Apparently he's going to take me to one of his favourite places on the island."

"That sounds promising."

"Let's hope so. He didn't give any more details than that."

"I'm sure it'll be fun."

"Yeah. It'll be fine," Ozzy said, leaning forward again. "But I could reschedule…"

Evelyn rested her hand against his chest. "Don't. Enjoy the time you have with your father."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Evelyn said.

She felt a lump in her throat at the thought of spending quality time with her father. She took for granted how much time she could have pushed to spend with him before the trial started. Before she felt disappointment and disillusionment from him. Now, she wasn't sure if she wanted to spend time with him. She wasn't sure if she trusted him, or if she really even knew him.

The bell rang. Ozzy gave her a quick kiss and they departed for their classes in opposite directions. The sneers and snickers continued, but Evelyn kept her head up, knowing that if she knew little about her father's past digressions, her peers knew even less.

It was a small comfort on an otherwise thorny morning.


Blair arrived at St. Anthony Hall minutes before noon. Simon trotted behind her with boxes of cookies overwhelming his arms. The boxes slide from side to side as Simon adjusted his grip unbeknownst to Blair. Blair marched to the kitchen where the other food and drink committee members directed caterers to a row of stainless-steel warming trays.

"Simon?" Blair glanced over her shoulder where Simon quickly maneuvered the boxes, so they didn't tip over.

Blair looked at his posture with horror. "For God sake Simon, put the cookies down before you drop them."

"That was the plan," Simon said.

Blair made space in front of the microwave. Simon set down the boxes and wiped the sweat off his brow.

"Blair," Heather said. "So glad you could make time out of your busy schedule."

Blair flashed her a bitchy smile. "Heather, you should know out of anyone about how much I value tradition. There was no way I'd miss our Founder's Day Luncheon. Oh look, and I brought some treats too. What exactly did you bring?"

Heather returned an equally bitchy smile. "The refreshments."

As Heather walked away, Blair fumed. She missed one meeting, one, and Heather treated her as if she broke the Locke and Key oath. Heather could think whatever she wanted about her; Blair wasn't going to let her misguided opinion stop her from proving her wrong.

Blair snatched a glass of champagne and ventured into the living room where members mingled on the couches. Valentina and Zara huddled on the loveseat and snickered when they saw Blair.

"Ladies," Blair said. "Didn't you learn that it's rude to point?"

"Hey Blair. How was your holiday break?" Valentina said.

"The Champs-?lysées Christmas Market never disappoints."

"I couldn't believe the news about Chuck's father," Zara said.

"Talk about a nightmare before Christmas," Valentina said while shaking her head.

Blair's eyes narrowed. "Chuck's doing fine through all of this."

"I'm sure he is with your support," Zara said.

Blair noted a sharp inflection when Zara spoke. What many would have interpreted as a compliment was no more than a sneer.

"Support is what Chuck needs most right now," Blair said.

"Spoken like a devoted girlfriend," Valentina said.

Blair was beginning to understand that she would be the only support Chuck would have. If Valentina was willing to shun him so quickly after being all over him like a cheap suit, then Blair needed to be on high alert for who could and couldn't be trusted. Anyone who wanted to be friends to Chuck were no longer dependable.

Blair smirked. "It's clear that Chuck can't count on you for support. Please excuse me."

Blair furthered herself in the room to where the boys were seated. Colton saw her and called, "Hey, Blair! Got any cookies to share?"

"As a matter of fact, I did bring some," Blair said.

Colton brightened at this.

"But none are for you," Blair said with a smirk.

"That's cold. Real cold, Blair," Colton said, holding his hand to his chest, as if he were wounded.

"Good thing there will be plenty of food to warm you right back up," Blair said.

"I heard that Chuck's taken the semester off. Where's he hiding nowadays?"

"He's not hiding," Blair said.

"Seems like it to me," Colton said with a shrug. "What's happened to his father is a real shame. I always admired him. Aspired to work at Bass Industries one day. I guess that's not going to happen now is it?"

"Maybe it will if you make it based on your merit," Blair said. While she used every connection, she had to get ahead like the rest of Upper East Siders, there were times when you had no connection, and the only way forward was to build it yourself out of sheer will. Blair inspected Colton's lean frame, one that hadn't seen an honest day's work or scheme in his life.

"Come on Blair," Colton said. "We all know it's all about who you know. Locke and Key epitomizes it. And everyone talks. When you're no longer of use, those bridges tend to break."

"Are you talking about Chuck?"

"I didn't say him specifically," Colton said.

"It seems like you did," Blair said. "I thought you were his friend?"

"Of course, we're friends," Colton said. "It's different with guys. We don't stay up and braid each other's hair. I'll catch up with him when I see him."

And here Blair envied Chuck's cult following last semester. She longed for the captive audience that always huddled around him, hanging on to every word. She wished people would surround her, worship the grounds she walked on like all the members did before Christmas with Chuck. Blair realized that she had no reason to envy this any longer. It wasn't real. It was all a fa?ade. People like Colton wanted something from Chuck and nothing more. He was only loved when he served a purpose to others. Money didn't come with just responsibility, but fickleness too.

Blair spotted Julian who waved at her. "You do that," Blair said. She rushed to Julian, hoping for some semblance of normalcy from him.

"Blair," Julian said. "I've barely seen you since the start of break. How are you?"

"Oh, you know…just weathering more scandals. Good thing I was primed last semester," Blair scoffed.

"I don't doubt it. How's Chuck and his family?"

"He's…to be honest Julian, he's been better. The trial starts today, and I haven't seen or heard from him. Never a good sign."

"And how are you doing?"

"I'm just trying to be there for Chuck in any way I can."

"And that's very supportive of you. How are you really doing?"

"I'm okay," Blair said. The word flailing came to mind, but she decided to keep that feeling private for the time being.

"I can't imagine how tough this is for you, too. If you need help of any kind, just let me know. I'm almost done submitting my law school apps, so my schedule is about to become a lot clearer."

"Thanks, Julian. I appreciate your support."

"I also heard that you missed an important meeting?"

Blair sighed. "It was one time, and I missed that meeting because I was in another one."

"For pre-law? I thought those meetings were on Tuesday evenings."

"They are. It was for something else. A writing opportunity."

"For the campus newspaper?"

"Yes. I'm writing guest columns for Liz's Closet. If all goes well, I may be taking it over next year."

"Blair, that's fantastic."

"It's nice to hear someone thinks so."

"Look, I know you and Heather have been butting heads, but I do hope you understand that she really has your best interests at heart. She may just have a different way of showing it."

"Different isn't the way I'd phrase it…"

"Blair," Julian said. "You want to be President, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then a word of advice? Don't piss off the people who have real power around here. That includes seniors like Heather."

"I make one mistake, and she treated it like I started the inquisition!"

"She wants to see you succeed," Julian said. "And that means she has set a very high standard for you. Wouldn't you do the same?"

Blair didn't have to answer Julian because her face said it all. She would.


Evelyn sat in the courtyard reviewing her new timetable later that morning when Sera and the girls approached her table. Sera led the pack, followed by Catherine and Lila. Kate straggled behind them. She maintained a neutral expression and assumed a stiff posture that mimicked the other girls.

"If you're looking to share any of your lame insults, I'm not interested," Evelyn said.

"And here I thought you could take a joke. When did you get so serious?" Catherine said.

"Serious? Quick, where's the fire?" Sera said and they all laughed.

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Did it take you all night to think of that one, Sera?"

Sera's lips puckered as if she just sucked a lemon. "Whatever."

Catherine elbowed her way in front of Sera. "I just wanted to let you know that I had the greatest chat with one of the Yale representatives during my interview last week, and do you know what we agreed on?"

"I'm sure you're about to tell me."

"Justice," Catherine said. "And not wanting people of high profile to attend school for…the wrong reasons."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know, people getting in for their reputation above all else. It turns out, negative reputations aren't what admissions are looking for."

Evelyn felt her stomach twist in a knot. She hadn't considered admissions to take into account her father's trial. Evelyn assumed she would be evaluated on merit like everyone else.

Evelyn stood, her knees wobbly. "Well, it's a good thing I'll be getting in for merit then."

"I wouldn't be so sure that's how it works," Catherine said with a shrug. "I just wanted to warn you that depending on what happens with your dad's trial, even the highest grades and most well rounded curriculars won't save you from being turned away."

"Let's go girls," Sera said. "We don't want to be late for our reservation."

Each minion gave Evelyn a withering look except Kate. When they disappeared, Evelyn collapsed on the bench.

It couldn't be true. Her chances of getting into schools wouldn't be comprised because of the trial…or could it?

Suddenly, Evelyn spotted Headmistress Queller crossing the courtyard. Evelyn abandoned her things at the table and jogged after her.

"Excuse me, Headmistress?" Evelyn asked.

Headmistress Queller turned, a look of irritation on her face. "Yes, Ms. Bass?"

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"I only have half."

"I'll make it quick. Look, I know I've already submitted my college applications and am waiting on a couple postponed interviews, but do you know if there's anything I can do to…I don't know to improve my chances at this point?"

"Other than wait like everyone else, no," Headmistress Queller said. "Although, we are hosting admissions representatives at a college fair for the sophomore class tomorrow. We could always use an extra pair of hands for setup and cleanup, and since all the representatives are from admissions departments…it wouldn't hurt if they put a face to your name if you know what I mean."

"I do. That-that would be very helpful."

"Great. Set-up begins afterschool today in the gymnasium. You can check in with Mr. Lawrence from there."

"I will. Thank you, Headmistress Queller."

Evelyn returned to her bench; her shoulders relaxed. Maybe if she got know at least a couple admissions representatives, they wouldn't be as swayed by public image if she knew them personally. That's how this world worked didn't it?

Spotted: E looking to earn extra credit with the Headmistress. Is this too little, too late?


Chuck stood at the window of his apartment overlooking Columbia's Morningside Campus. The campus was dull and grey like a fading memory. Chuck lifted his tumbler to his lips, the glass brittle against his tongue. He had dark circles under his eyes, his usually pressed suit wrinkled, his tie loosened.

Blair's clicking heels announced her arrival. "I'm sorry I'm late. Founder's Day Lunch went on longer than expected."

Chuck winced at the ringing sound Blair's heels seemed to make. "Did anyone ask for me?"

Blair set her purse carefully on the couch. "Why yes. Julian did. He sends his best wishes."

Chuck drained the glass and set it down on top of the paper strewn coffee table.

"And Simon. Colton too."

Chuck sat down and re-examined the papers looking for some combination, some code that would give him an idea as to what would be the next best way to take down Jack.

Blair sat beside him, caressing his cheek. "You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

"Not well."

"Are you sure you're up for meeting with Maya?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Blair's eyes widened. "Because you don't look well."

"We need to learn from what she experienced with Jack. This was the time she agreed to meet with us, and I'm not cancelling. If we cancel, she won't come again."

Blair picked up an opened copy of the New York Times. "And what were you going to offer her? Yesterday's news?"

He hadn't thought of that. He figured his apologies were enough of a gift.

"Where's Dorota when you need her," Blair grumbled. She pulled up her dress sleeves.

Blair pinched each piece of paper as far away from her body as she could, as if she were cleaning up rotten banana peels. She took the pile of papers and clacked to Chuck's bedroom. With each step, the more Chuck's ears rang, his blood pressure spiked.

Blair's heels clicked on the hardwood floors and then the tile of the kitchen. She began boiling a kettle of water and opened the fridge.

"Do you and Nate have something other than alcohol and eggs in your kitchen?"

"Definitely not."

"Of course, you don't. Good thing Joy made extra cookies," Blair said.

Chuck sat on the couch as Blair prepared the space. It had been a few weeks since their first scheming attempt failed, and Chuck had yet to land on another idea that was strong enough to work. The more he thought about their first attempt, the more Chuck realized how juvenile it was. The schemes Chuck had done in the past were not going to be good enough against Jack. Chuck needed to think of something better, and this time, he didn't want to settle until he landed on the best idea. His frustration only grew the longer it took to land the best idea.

There was a knock on the door. Blair set the tray of coffee, tea, and Joy's cookies on the coffee table while Chuck fixed up his suit and tie before answering the door.

Maya appeared wearing all black attire, her dark hair slicked back in a high ponytail. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her black nails tapped her forearms with impatience.

He thrust his open hand to her. "Chuck Bass. Thank you so much for coming."

"What can I say? The price was right," Maya said. She took one tentative step in the apartment, her eyes wandering over the walls, the open kitchen, the floor, and the couch where Blair now stood.

"Please. Have a seat," Chuck said. He guided her to the armchair that faced the couch. "This is Blair. She was the one you contacted over email."

Maya didn't shake Blair's hand, leaving Blair to retract her hand with a snarl.

"We first want to apologize for what happened," Chuck said. "We're very sorry that the job we offered you wasn't what you hoped."

"That's one way of putting it," Maya said.

"Tea or coffee?" Blair said, her voice strained.

"Tea please," Maya said.

"Like I was saying. We're very sorry for what happened, but we asked you here today because we wanted to know the full story."

"You want to know what happened that led to Jack Bass having me arrested?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes," Chuck said.

"Fine. But it's not a long story. I met up as you know at the Oak Room. He suggested we go back to his place, and I consented. We had another drink at his place and when he excused himself to go to the bathroom, I snuck into his bedroom to place that…package of yours in his bedside table. He caught me doing it and wrestled it out of me."

"Wrestled?" Blair said.

"I tried to hide it, but he removed it from my hands."

"And what did he say to you after?"

"He asked who I was working for. I denied it, but he kept pressing, so I eventually named Savannah."

"Was she the only one you mentioned?" Chuck probed.

"Yes. I didn't know it connected back to the two of you. He mentioned that he had his enemies, but he didn't say who. He asked me for my phone and called Savannah."

Chuck watched Maya take a sip of her tea. While much of what Maya relayed was what he already expected, he needed more information.

"What was his place like?" Chuck asked.

Maya blinked; her voice unsteady. "Like any other hotel suite. There was a bar, a living area, bedroom, bathroom—"

"Did you notice anything out of place?" Chuck said. "Did he have anything lying about?"

"Not that I can remember," Maya said.

"What about his bedroom? You were there alone briefly. Did you happen to notice anything?" Blair asked.

"Now that you mentioned it, I did notice something in his drawer," Maya said.

"Which was?" Chuck asked.

"It was a picture frame, faced down."

"What was the picture of?"

"I don't know. I didn't turn it over, but I thought who hides a picture when the frame is supposed to display it?"

"That is strange," Blair said.

"Was there anything else in the drawer?" Chuck said.

"There was, but I didn't have time to check."

"Is there anything else you can tell us? About Jack?" Chuck said.

"He has the police on speed dial for one."

"Speed dial?"

"I'm not sure what that says about his priorities, but I've never seen that before."

"Thanks for coming and answering our questions," Chuck said. He slid an envelope across the table. "I promise you won't be hearing from us again."

"Can I have that writing?" Maya said.

Chuck smirked. "You have our word."


Frank shut the limo door and waved. As the limo pulled away from the curb, Bart settled back in his seat, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all day. Bart massaged the back of his sore neck, his muscles tense while his joints cracked. Lily removed her sunglasses, her manicured fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Long day," Bart said as he rolled his shoulders.

"Very long," Lily said. "How do you think it went?"

Bart didn't immediately respond. Frank assured him that they were off to a good start. Today, the trial began with elaborate opening statements from him, and Eloise, the prosecution. Eloise crafted her opening statement with the intent of accusation, leaving little room for rebuttal. She walked the jury through why Bart perpetrated the fire in order to claim the insurance money for the building and that Bart had reason to kill his wife in the process.

Frank refuted these claims in his opening statement. He went on for an hour and a half telling Bart's story. How he started across the Hudson River in Astoria and built his way honestly and with integrity to achieve the American Dream for his family.

Bart was flattered by the speech. It was crafted with the intent to build Bart's credibility and to create doubt in the charges against him.

"It went."

"Well I think it went well. Although the makeup of the jury was quite telling."

"Mothers, teachers, union workers, and a doctor? It was telling alright."

"When the evidence is presented, I'm sure they will be able to see the truth."

From Bart's personal experience, one could go to great lengths to avoid the truth at all costs. Prejudice, ignorance, and most of all stubbornness were factors that could be the greatest barriers that prevented someone from seeing the truth. One's determination not to change their attitude or position on something made them, in this case, the jury, an unmovable collective.

"How are you doing with all of this?" Bart asked.

"I'm fine," Lily said. She scrolled through her emails, her thin lips pursing. "We've been uninvited to the ALS Fundraiser this month."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Although we've been uninvited, don't expect a refund."

Bart smirked. "They'll take our money, but not our presence."

"It would cause too much of a spectacle and draw awareness away from the cause. As if there would be a cause if we didn't fund it."

"If it bothers you, I can give them a call? I can persuade them to…see otherwise."

"Don't bother, darling. Now I don't want to go out of principle. Besides, we don't beg either."

Bart may have forgotten it after all of these years, but a long time ago, he wasn't above begging. He recalled one time during his freshman year of college where he had to beg his professor to let him retake his final exam because his test score would tank his mark and average. One bad test with a heavy weight to his overall mark almost lost his scholarship. The course? Introduction to British Literature.

He always preferred numbers ever since.

"We'll definitely have to re-evaluate who are friends are after this," Lily said.

Bart recognized a fundamental dichotomy on the Upper East Side. Friendship was fleeting. The friends they had before the trial would no longer be the same friends they'd have after the trial. Bart was not bitter about this. Over the years, his friendships changed as required to further his interests. Their friends at the ALS Foundation were at the intersection of embarking through that rite of passage. While friendship was fickle and transactional, one's real enemies lurked in their family.

"We will, Lily. Among other things."


Stacked fold-up tables and floats of chairs littered the gymnasium like broken tree branches after a winter storm. The shiny wooden floors gleaned underneath it all, some parts creaking under younger volunteers Evelyn didn't recognize.

The only set-up fold-up chair and table was underneath the basketball net. Mr. Lawrence occupied the table, his lank body hunching over it as he sorted through papers.

"Mr. Lawrence?" Evelyn said. "I talked to Headmistress Queller about helping setup for the college fair. She said I should come see you here afterschool."

"The headmistress did mention it. As you can see, we're in the middle of setting everything up, and we have a long way to go."

"Is there some kind of way we should be organizing the tables?" Evelyn said.

"Yes. We have a map drawn out with a clear path for each college to have their own table."

Evelyn looked at the map and saw that it had a clear pathway of tables that circles around the gym like any school fair she'd been too. The setup seemed simple enough.

Evelyn shimmied off her backpack. "Okay. I guess I'll get started?"

"We usually set-up in pairs, as it's proven to be more efficient," Mr. Lawrence explained.

He then looked past her at someone who had just arrived.

"So, if you can get started with Mr. Montgomery, that would be very much appreciated."

"Wait, what?"

Evelyn turned and saw Dash appear with his hands in his pockets. He looked equally perplexed when he saw Evelyn.

"What are you doing here?" Evelyn said, crossing her arms.

"Mr. Lawrence offered it in exchange for extra credit. What's your reason?" Dash said.

"Ms. Bass? Mr. Montgomery? Tables please," Mr. Lawrence said. He handed Dash a map of the fair and was called away by another student.

Dash studied the page, looking for the North Star to point him in the right direction.

Evelyn's arms tightened across her chest. "We're supposed to setup all the tables."

After a beat of silence, Dash looked up from the page. "Should we just divide and conquer?"

It was a preferred method for Evelyn to help alleviate the awkwardness she felt while being around Dash. Evelyn looked at the tables and knew she couldn't lift them herself.

"Come on," Evelyn said. "It'll be faster if we do it together."

After figuring out the locking mechanism for the tables, they unfolded the first few tables in silence. Dash did more of the lifting, Evelyn directing.

"You never said why you're volunteering," Dash said.

Evelyn snapped open her side of the table leg. "Extra credit. Same as you."

"How much more credit could you need?"

They unfolded more tables. They were now hallway done setup, and Evelyn felt her underarms grow warm, and her face flushed. Her biceps burned from the lifting.

"Manual labour is no joke," Dash said after loosening his collar and tie, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "Where are the movers when you need them?"

"They weren't in the budget," Evelyn said.

"Too bad," Dash said while flipping another table. "Seems like a glaring omission."

Evelyn let Dash unfold a couple tables on his own while she took a water break. When she returned, he was sitting on the last setup table in that line, wiping his brow.

"Did you get some water?" Evelyn asked.

"No, I'm okay."

Evelyn offered her bottle.

"I said I'm fine."

"Look, I don't want you passing out on my watch, and then I'm responsible for it. Just drink a little bit."

This time, Dash obliged. He aimed the bottle away from his mouth and returned it to Evelyn.

"Thanks."

Evelyn nodded. "Should we finish up this last row?"

Dash hopped off the table and they assembled the last tables.

"There. That should do it," Dash said. "If Mr. Lawrence doesn't like it, he can fix it."

"Agreed," Evelyn said. "If that's it, then I guess we can go…"

"Evelyn, wait."

Evelyn waited.

"I'm sorry," Dash. "I don't expect you to forgive me, but I'm really sorry. I really screwed everything up. It was my fault. I should have trusted you more."

Evelyn's gaze fell to her feet. They didn't twitch as much as they usually would in this situation.

"I get that it's over between us, and that everything is different now. I just…hope one day you'll forgive me."

Evelyn felt the weight of his gaze, his guilt, and remorse fall at her feet. She didn't doubt his feelings. She didn't doubt his desire to make things right. She just wasn't sure if she had the capacity and will to forgive him or let go.

"I hope so too."

Evelyn slung her backpack over her shoulder and left.


Chelsea Market was unusually quiet and light on tourists that weekday afternoon in February. Most officer workers had flocked to the subway station while few lingered and browsed the eclectic vendor stands. Jewellery, vintage fashion, printed tote bags, hats, and soaps were on display tables one after the other. Ozzy walked alongside his father and took in the exposed brick and vaulted ceilings. The waxed wood floors creaked under his feet, and the smells of different cuisines from the upcoming food concourse wafted towards them.

His father practically floated as they walked past the retail concourse. Ozzy didn't notice that the longer he walked alongside his father, the more in sync their step and gait became.

"I've been waiting years for this," his father said while rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

His father opened the clear glass door where full fishes, lobsters, and every type of seafood were displayed on mounds of ice on a wraparound counter. Square black boards hung from the ceilings, providing directions on their menu and food orders. Even the thick cement columns were covered in charcoal grey and chalked up menu options.

The smell of fish and seawater were a welcome change from the sewage and gas that often dominated many of the streets in New York. If he closed his eyes, Ozzy could envision being on the harbour, see the lighthouse blinking in the distance as small boats bobbed against the choppy waters.

His father approached the order desk and said, "Two lobster rolls please."

He asked if Ozzy liked seafood when Ozzy arrived at his father's place after school. He asked because he said he had the biggest craving for something he hadn't had since he went to college on the island. Ozzy, who liked seafood but wasn't hungry, was powerless to say no to his father's excitement.

"So, what makes this place so special to you?" Ozzy asked.

"It was one of the first places I discovered on my own when I went to school hear."

"Isn't it far from campus?"

"Yes. I discovered it by accident."

His father picked up the cartons containing their lobster rolls and brought one under his nose. He offered the other to Ozzy.

"How did you discover it by accident?"

"One thing I liked to do was watch people. There are so many cafeterias in the city where I would just pick one, sit, have a café, and watch people. In my first year I would just walk around the city, and one place I walked to was to the World Trade Centre. I watched all of these people men come in and out of that building in their suits and briefcases. Everything was so fast, and everyone walked with purpose there. I started walking back, saw these vendors outside this building selling root vegetables and knitted sweaters. It reminded me of the markets back home, and I followed the smell of food because I was hungry by then, and I saw these—how do you say—ice with fish on top. I walked in and ordered the same thing the person in front of me did because it looked good. That's when I tried lobster for the first time."

His father found a counter where he set his carton down and opened it. Ozzy did the same. Inside was a buttery bun that was packed with fleshy white and red coloured lobster meat. Ozzy took a bite. The fluffy and buttery bun mingled with the sweet lobster meat in his mouth.

"This is so good," Ozzy said. He took a bigger bite this time, halving the lobster roll. His father savoured every bite and gave a slight nod to Ozzy's compliment. Neither spoke much as they ate. Ozzy finished first, his fingers greased with butter.

"I can see why you wanted to come back," Ozzy said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

His fathered offered him a napkin.

"When I found this place, it was like I found a way to the open markets back home."

Ozzy had moved so many times in his life that he didn't know what home was. For some, it was a place, a person, or a taste. For Ozzy, home was constant movement.

"Did you miss home when you were at school?"

"In the beginning yes. Not as much after second year. You come to love a new place, and it becomes another home."

He always felt like he was always close to that feeling, but it was just out of reach. Just when he was getting settled in one place, he was uprooted to another.

"Is there any college you're hoping will accept you? A campus you want to live on?"

After submitting his applications, Ozzy didn't think much about college. Too much was going on for him to care about it.

"I haven't thought about it," Ozzy said. "I was just going to wait to see who accepts me first and choose from there."

"That's a good idea. When you're making your decision, it will help to know what place made you feel at home."

Ozzy thought back to all of the campuses he visited with him mom. The one that made the largest impression was Harvard, but there was no way he was getting into Harvard. Perhaps he'd just stay in the city and attend Columbia or NYU. Maybe instead of moving to find a new home, he would learn to stay in one.

His father picked up their greasy cartons and threw them in the trash.

"So much has changed," his father said looking at the packs of prepared sushi that were displayed in the refrigerated shelves. "The market is bigger than I remember."

"Was the lobster roll just as good as you remembered it?"

"Better."

Ozzy opened the door for his father, and they walked out in lock step as they explored the old and new goods Chelsea Market had to offer.


Evelyn struggled to focus on her homework that evening. She sat at her desk, scribbled in the margins of her blank page and grasped at every distraction available. After checking her phone for the tenth time, she realized she needed to change her scene if she wanted to get anything done. So, she packed up her books and moved to her father's office. It was a move she had previously reserved for final exams, but today, she made an exception.

On her way up the steps, Evelyn's phone vibrated on her textbook.

C has set the date for her birthday party. Guestlist is in effect with people from all the Manhattan prep schools attending. Time to strike?

When was the right time to get back at Sera and Kate? With the trial beginning, the petty grievances with the girls on the steps seemed trivial to Evelyn although with today's treatment, it started to gain some kind of relevance again.

Kate had continued to keep her abreast of everything that was going on from the planning of social events to the smallest petty conveniences. Kate might be onto something with this party. Evelyn wasn't sure who was going, or what she could do to reclaim the throne once again, but she had time to think of something.

Her father's office jar was ajar. Evelyn frowned at this and pushed the door open. The usual painting on the wall rested on the floor. The safe door was wide open, and Chuck's dark head emerged from the hole in the wall with an armful of folders.

"Looking for something?" Evelyn said.

"Other than my inheritance, no," Chuck grumbled, as he rifled through the folders and papers.

"What are you doing here then?"

"Business."

Evelyn set down her books on the edge of their father's desk. "Is that what happens when you drop out of college?"

"I didn't drop out. I deferred."

"And here I thought you'd come by to say hi," Evelyn said. "My mistake."

Chuck paused his rifling. "Is everything okay?"

"Hardly. But you made it very clear over Christmas that you don't care."

"I did no such thing," Chuck said.

Evelyn's crossed her arms across her chest. She had a lot of time to think about what she wanted to say to Chuck after he abruptly left Aunt Kim's house during the holidays, and there were many grievances she had against her brother.

"Oh really?" Evelyn's voice grew stronger. "Then how do you justify leaving us in the middle of Christmas dinner without so much as a word since?"

"I just needed time to process."

"And now what? It's been a month, and the trial just started. Where have you been?"

Chuck's gaze drifted to the floor. Evelyn noticed the circles under his eyes. "I didn't realize you were this upset."

"Well, how would you know if you're nowhere to be found? I'm not just upset with you. I'm disappointed."

"Sorry," Chuck said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Sorry isn't good enough. Do you know how hard it's been since the New Year started? There's paparazzi waiting for us outside almost every day, everyone won't leave me alone about it at school, and it's really taking a toll on dad."

"You sympathize with him?"

Evelyn's arms tightened across her chest. "We've talked about the trial. I now know what to expect, and what I'm supposed to do."

"And what did dad suggest you do?"

"Stay out of it completely. Don't read the newspapers, focus on school, and surrounded myself with trustworthy friends."

"If only dad could follow his own advice," Chuck said. "Have you forgiven him already?"

"No," Evelyn said severely. "But I can't avoid him and my problems like you can."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "Spoken like his favourite child."

"That's not true."

Chuck amassed the papers and put them back in the safe. "Look, I'd love to stay and walk you through how you're wrong, but I have to go."

"Of course, you're leaving."

"For your information sis, I'm trying to save the future of our family. You can't say our father is doing the same."

"You really resent him for what he did, don't you?"

"Yes," Chuck said definitely. "And you should too."

"Shouldn't we wait to learn the verdict first?"

"You can wait that long, but this trial is all pomp and circumstance. You see, they finally have someone powerful on the hook for something, so they're going to make sure he pays for it. Make him an example."

"And?"

"And that means he's going to lose. Do you really want to associate yourself with that?"

"But he's our father."

"And he killed our mother. We come from a twisted family. Want some advice? Distance yourself as much as you can from it. It'll be better for you in the long run."

Chuck turned to leave.

"Wait," Evelyn said. "So that's it? You came for what you needed, and now I'll see you at my graduation?"

"If you need me, you know where to find me," Chuck said.

"I shouldn't have to find you," Evelyn said. "You should know when to be here."

Chuck's jaw tightened, a sign that signaled to Evelyn that she had wounded him.

"Why don't you just stick to studying," Chuck said. "And stop telling the adults what to do."

Evelyn felt as if Chuck had slapped her on the wrist. Chuck's words stung, and instead of feeling hurt, Evelyn felt angry.

Chuck stormed away, leaving his glass of scotch untouched. Evelyn watched him disappear, the briskness of his gait leaving a cold breeze behind.

When Evelyn settled her nerves and books at her father's desk, she looked up to see that Chuck hadn't even bothered to remount the picture to conceal their family safe. Evelyn considered getting up to cover up the safe, but she continued studying instead.


Ozzy shook off the light dusting of snow as he unzipped his jacket. He hung up his coat in the closet and felt his hands tingle as they thawed. As he closed the door, his mother appeared with her hands on her hips.

"Where have you been?"

"I was out with dad. Didn't I text you this?"

"You didn't say that you would be staying with him for dinner. I tried to call you, and as usual you didn't pick up."

Every time he spent time with his father, he never returned home hungry. Ozzy assumed that if he was going to his father's afterschool, it was implied that he wouldn't return for dinner.

"I had my phone on silent."

"Please be more considerate next time and send a text. We thought something could have happened to you."

"You could have tried calling dad," Ozzy said.

"That's not the point! When I need to speak to you, I'm not looking to speak to your dad, I'm looking for you."

"Why are you so upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"Then why are you making this an issue?"

"I respect that you want to spend time with your father, but I also think you need to remember who your real family is."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's exactly what it means. Don't forget who was here for you before your father decided to move here."

"What are you talking about? I haven't forgotten that," Ozzy said. "This is the first time that dad's here, and I'm spending a few nights a week with him. What's wrong with that?"

His mom took a breath while drawing her hands together palm against palm. "I'm not saying that's a problem or that you aren't allowed to see your father. I just don't want you to forget that he could have been here the whole time and he chose not to. Don't forget about the people who have been here for you this whole time."

"But I didn't forget," Ozzy said. "You need to stop worrying and start trusting me for once," Ozzy said.

"I do trust you."

"How? If I'm gone for a couple hours and even if you know where I am, you still think I've run off."

"Well, can you blame me?" his mom said. "You have done it before."

I know, but I'm not going to do that again. Ever. Why can't you believe me?"

Ozzy shook his head and stomped up the stairs.


After digesting Maya's account, Blair paced the length of Chuck's living room with her phone in her hands. Maya didn't provide much information other than the fact that Jack would only be accessible if they provided a female entertainment option.

They were back to square one. Blair wracked her brain for ideas, for any hint of inspiration that they hadn't considered or even overlooked while Chuck drank on the couch.

"Are you sure, he hasn't forged any financial documents over the years?" Blair said.

Chuck sat on the couch, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Positive. He declares his taxes every year, and aside from housing his money in offshore accounts, there's nothing that would stir suspicion."

"And he has no history of misconduct?"

"No."

"He's had no sexual harassment allegations?"

"Nothing that can be traced legally. He doesn't have a history of lawsuits or payouts of such thing."

"Are you sure he never married?" Blair pressed.

"Also, positive. The longest Jack's held a girlfriend was for a couple months."

"Well, that's not helpful," Blair said. She started typing on her phone. "What about catching him in a pyramid scheme?"

"We're trying to make him step down from Bass Industries not make him look like a victim."

"He would look incompetent though," Blair said. "Wouldn't that trigger a vote of non-confidence from the board?"

"Surprisingly no. If he were involved with said pyramid scheme then yes, but selling him as someone who innocently bought into it? No."

Blair put her hands on her hips. "Well? Do you have any ideas?"

Blair had been bending over backwards trying to think of every angle they could position their next scheme, and Chuck had shot down every last one of them.

Chuck drained his drink. "Only dead ends."

"Chuck," Blair said. "Talk to me. Are you still upset about our last scheme?"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Your scheme."

"If things were up to you, there wouldn't be a scheme. I've come up with a hundred ideas and you've found a reason to shoot down all of them without providing any yourself."

"This isn't high school, Blair where we plot around people with half a brain. Jack knows what he's doing, and he knows I'm after him," Chuck said, his voice rising.

"So, what do you suggest we do?"

"We need to find Jack's weak spot and exploit it."

"And how exactly do you plan to find that?" Blair said.

"Gee, if I knew, I wouldn't need your help. Or your attitude."

Blair felt the sting of his insult radiate off her body. "My attitude? The only person's attitude we don't need is yours. You've been in a terrible mood since we failed our last scheme."

"You've just now noticed that?" Chuck said.

Blair's eyes narrowed. "It's not exactly hard to miss. I just figured that when you said you were ready to move on from that scheme you meant it."

"I am ready to move on. This next plan just has to be something worthy of my time."

Blair crossed her arms across her chest. "And my time isn't important?"

"I didn't ask you to be here, Blair," Chuck said. "I told you to leave whenever you felt it was necessary."

"You think I would after saying I wouldn't leave you?"

Chuck shrugged. "I figured it was only a matter of time. People talk, gossip travels, and I know how important your standing is."

"Then you don't know me as well as you think you do."

"I know you better than you know yourself."

"Well, I'd hardly know that right now," Blair said.

Chuck sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Blair, this is why I warned you about us working together."

"Working together? This hasn't been us working together," Blair said. "This has been you moping and using me for target practice when things don't go your way. You're the one who isn't being a team player here."

"And you can't stop butting in and overtaking everything."

"I'm just trying to help you!" Blair said, her eyes stinging.

"Well don't!" Chuck said.

"Fine!" Blair said, her eyes glassy. "Since you seem to know everything, you can do this yourself!"

With her vision blurred with tears, Blair snatched her purse and neared the door. "You know what Chuck? I've sacrificed a lot to be with you. I've prioritized your needs above my other commitments, and I don't think you appreciate it much less realize it. Enjoy figuring this all out on your own."

When Blair slammed the door behind her, that was when the tears began to fall. If Chuck thought it was only a matter of time for Blair to leave him, then Blair should have realized that it was only a matter of time that Chuck would push her away.


Bart sat in the living room and read the newspaper that evening. Although he was more wired than tired after the first day in court, Bart had already changed into his silk pyjamas and robe while he nursed his glass of scotch. It was a relief to read other news stories, and Bart discovered a newfound sympathy for any person scrutinized and sensationalized in the daily news.

Bart focused on the sports section, eager to catch up on the New York Rangers' standings that season. If there was one thing he never failed to hope for, it was the Rangers potential to win the playoffs.

Evelyn appeared in her lounge wear with her dark hair piled up in a messy bun. She opened the freezer in the kitchen and set a pint of Haagen Daz on the counter.

If he'd listened to anything Lily had to told him over the past couple of years, this had to mean one thing. Boy problems.

Bart rustled the newspaper as he folded the pages together. Normally, this would be what Kim described as an opportunity. For the first time, Bart noticed the sign, heard it loud and clear.

"Is there enough for one more?" Bart asked.

"Plenty," Evelyn said.

Evelyn picked up a second bowl and began scooping the cookies and cream ice cream into each bowl. She appeared concentrated to Bart, her lips pursed, her brows knitted together. It was the same look she had when she was doing her homework.

Bart sat at the kitchen table, unsure how to broach Evelyn's temperament. Normally, he wouldn't approach as that worked with Chuck, but as Kim explained, that only does so much. He needed to ask questions, any questions, to show his interest and intent to listen.

"What called for ice cream tonight?"

"I just felt like I needed it after the day I've had."

Bart held his spoon near the ice cream but hesitated to slice into it. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to say. Just people at school being… unnecessary."

"Unnecessary about what?"

Evelyn kept her gaze on her ice cream. "Your trial. They think they're funny making jokes about it. It's more annoying than anything else."

Bart's grip on his spoon tightened. First Lily was getting disinvited to events, and now Evelyn was getting harassed at school? This was why he never wanted to go to trial in the first place.

"I'm sorry that you have to endure that as a result of my trial."

"You have enough to worry about. People talk all the time at school. It's something that can't be stopped."

"We'll see about that," Bart said and scooped a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Evelyn rolled her eyes like she didn't believe him. She didn't believe his power and pull in the city. As precarious as it was currently, he still could garner sympathy from Headmistress Queller regarding the harassment of his child at school. Surely something could be done about it…

"Did you know that Chuck was here today?" Evelyn said.

"No, I didn't. When was it?"

"I think it was before you and Lily came home."

"What did he want?"

"I don't know. He was rifling through your safe."

"That wouldn't be the first time," Bart said.

He wasn't concerned that Chuck was looking through his things. With his private life about to become an open book, he had nothing to hide. But he did realize in that moment that it was time to change the password.

Evelyn shook her head. "Figures."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Briefly."

"The last time I talked to him was also brief."

"Do you know what his problem is or is he just going to be like this from now on?"

"What do you mean?"

"He was…so rude and inconsiderate. He was thoughtless and mean. He-he didn't care about me or you or anything that's been going here. He was on a mission, and then he left. Again."

"When your brother fixates on something, he struggles to see anything beyond it."

Evelyn pushed her empty bowl away from her, her spoon clanging against the bowl. "He said he's trying to save our family when it really feels like he's abandoning our family. I told him so, and it was like he didn't hear me."

"Oh, he heard you. He just didn't like what he heard," Bart said.

Evelyn rubbed her face with her hands. "I just thought you should know that he was going through your things, and that he's doing whatever he can to distance himself from us, and he even suggested that I do the same."

Some people claimed that life was full of surprises, but to Bart it was full of patterns. Chuck's withdrawing was nothing new. It was a pattern that he emulated from his own behaviour. He pushed others away when instead he should be there. He was now feeling the repercussions of that behaviour as the person not pushing others away but people withdrawing from him out of self-preservation.

"Do you feel the same way Chuck does?"

"I don't know," Evelyn said.

"If you feel that it's becoming too much at school, don't hesitate to let either myself or your Aunt Kim know."

"Okay," Evelyn said. "I will."

Although he'd remember this day as the first day of his trial, he'd remember this moment just as clearly. It was the first time he really had a thoughtful conversation with his daughter.

It was the first thing he'd done right in a long time.


Spotted: B drinking alone in the Oak Room on a weeknight. What gives? Something tells us that this was more than a bad grade…

Blair drained her second martini and signalled the bartender for another. She sat alone at the bar closest to the till in the Oak Room. Its moody and dark oak panelling seemed like the perfect place to lick her wounds.

She still couldn't believe Chuck. Everything that they've been through, the sacrifices made, were for what? This whole time Blair believed that the pressure was on her to fix the error in her ways when Chuck could skate away free.

She was just trying to help him. He had no right to lash out at her like that. If he was like this now, Blair knew it would never change.

"Blair Waldorf," A voice startled her out of her thoughts. "This is quite the surprise to see you here and alone too."

Blair knew that voice well. It made her skin crawl. "Jack Bass. I can't say this is a pleasure."

Jack sidled up to the bar seat beside her. "Oh, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"I didn't realize we were friends."

"I think we could be," Jack said. "Where's my nephew?"

"I don't care."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"There is no paradise." She drained her glass and pushed it away.

"Then welcome to hell," Jack said. He took a seat beside her and flagged down the bartender. "Whisky for me and refill for the beautiful woman beside me."

"No thank you. I've had enough." She'd already drank three glasses within the hour.

"Please. This drink is on me. I insist. You still look like you could use one more."

"Only one."

Jack smirked. He put a twenty in the bartender's tip jar.

"So, what have you been up to Miss Waldorf? Still pounding the pavements at school?"

Blair didn't appreciate his conversational approach with her. He was pretending like the events of last year didn't happen. Like they had an established repartee. Despite her inebriated state, she didn't want to reveal her hand too much. "Yes."

"Good for you. They say the college years are the best years of your life. Better not to waste it."

In light of the time she spent with Chuck over this stupid trial, she knew what it felt like to waste time.

"I would hate to limit my life's happiness to such a finite period of my life."

"You shouldn't. You have a bright future ahead of you."

As much as Blair was ambitious enough to dream it, she knew what it felt like for her dreams to be just out of reach. Nate. Yale. The presidency at Locke and Key.

"I guess time will tell," Blair said. "What about you? You finally got what you wanted with Bass Industries. Wouldn't that mean that this year is the best of your life?"

Blair turned to look at him when she spoke for the first time. She wanted to put the spotlight on him, have Jack answer to questions about his personal life. He maintained her gaze, and she noticed that the lines at the corners of his eyes creased when he was amused.

"You would think," Jack said.

"But they aren't?"

"The best years of our lives are usually behind us. We don't realize they're the best when we're living in them. It always takes distance to make that judgement."

The bartender returned with both of their drinks. Blair didn't let him toast to their meeting. She brought the martini glass to her lips and said in a rush, "I guess it doesn't help that you sued your brother too."

"He's being tried against the New York State court."

"I'm familiar with how criminal trials work. Be honest with my Jack. Did you indite him?"

"I'm not libel to confirm or deny that statement."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Why thought? Why bring this all up now? You are running Bass Industries. You have everything you could want. Why drag your family name through the mud like this?"

Jack didn't immediately answer. He swirled his drink, and he shook his head. "I thought it was time for my brother to take responsibility for his actions."

Blair couldn't say she remotely agreed with Jack's reason. From Blair's understanding, such a public scandal was worse than death. And to create it yourself? It was social suicide.

"You have a very interesting way of looking at things, Jack."

"So, do you," Jack said. "I think we see eye to eye on more things than you'd admit."

"Then you don't know me very well at all. We have nothing in common."

"No need to play the good girl card on me. When I asked you to transport the blueprints, you knew what you were doing."

"I didn't know what that was."

"You knew it was something very important. You saw an opportunity to get involved, to change the direction of the tide. I'm the same way."

Blair took a long gulp of drink, hoping she could leave soon.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of Blair. It's what…makes us special. Better than the others. Seeing an opportunity and capitalizing on it."

"I should go," Blair said. She tried to stand but fell on the chair beside her. She felt Jack's tight grip on her arm.

"Let's get you home," Jack said.

"I can go home on my own."

"You can barely walk."

Blair held the back of the chair and tried to right herself. She took one step and stumbled into Jack's chest.

"At least take my car home. Allen with get you home in one piece."

Blair pulled down her skirt that had ridden up to her midthigh. "Fine."

Jack guided her out of the bar and to the waiting car. The cold air stung her cheeks, and her drunkenness was stunted for a moment. Then, it grew more amplified. Jack held her steady as they walked to his waiting car. At this point, it was all blurry to Blair. Everything from the lampposts to the trash cans were spinning. This could only mean one thing.

Blair grabbed onto Jack's forearm. He opened the car door for her, waiting to help her inside.

"Oh no," Blair said.

"What's wrong?" Jack said.

The last thing she would remember from that night was hunching forward and vomiting.


Ozzy marched into Dash's room and directly to the couch and TV. The door swung open and slammed the wall. Dash sat at his desk typing an essay on his laptop while Ozzy turned on the Xbox.

"Wow, what a surprise. You're home," Dash said.

Ozzy picked up the controller. "Why does everyone keep saying that around here?"

"Dude, chill. You gonna play COD?"

"Yeah."

Dash shut the lid to his laptop and took Ozzy's answer as an invitation to avoid his essay. He took the second controller and sank into the couch.

Ozzy pressed each button with more force than necessary. What was everyone's problem around here? He'd spent, what, five minutes with his father and everyone was treating it like it was a crime.

The game started, and Ozzy was too furious to play coherently. Dash, who usually carried their team, went into overdrive. Ozzy missed opponent after opponent while Dash saved his back twice from his opponent to shoot back at him.

"I forgot how shit I am at this game," Ozzy said.

"It's easier to play when you're not mad. Or drunk."

Ozzy finally got a kill and was immediately killed afterward. Ozzy let out a frustrated sigh as he respawned.

"Were you just with your dad?"

"Yeah."

Dash punched the shoot button several times in succession. "At his place?"

"Yeah. Then we went to Chelsea Market. Went to Lobster Place and had lobster rolls."

'Never tried it. Are they any good?"

"Really good."

Ozzy finally got another kill and pressed the button to reload his gun. After a few more minutes, the round ended.

"Did I miss anything here?"

"Not really," Dash said.

"Then I don't get it."

"Get what?"

"My mom's problem."

"Oh," Dash said.

The response threw Ozzy off. He expected Dash to ask a question, but it seemed like Dash knew more than he let on.

"What do you mean 'oh'?"

"It's just, your mom may have, you know, vented about you spending so much time at your dad's lately."

"It's not even a lot of time. It's what, two evenings a week maybe?"

"For you, yeah, that's no big deal. For your mom it's…I don't know…threatening?"

"Threatening?"

"Look, I've never spoken to my mom since she left us a long time ago, but if she walked in and suddenly want to start up a relationship with me, my dad would not be thrilled about it either. It would feel like a constant tug of war of trying to appease both of them."

"She has nothing to be threatened about. It's not like I'm going to, I don't know, get up and leave and move in with him. I just met him."

"It wouldn't be the first time you've left."

"That was one time."

"And it was a time you didn't intend to return. You know that spooked your mom, right?"

The more that Dash tried to explain it all to Ozzy, the more he implied that he knew his mother more than he did. It was implied that he had a relationship with his mother, a familial one, where he was privy to hearing their inner workings of their idiosyncratic dynamic. It rubbed Ozzy the wrong way.

"Of course, I know that," Ozzy said. "How many times do I need to reassure her that I won't do that again?"

"I don't know," Dash said. "I think she's just scared she's going to lose you to your dad."

Life with his mom had always mimicked a yo-yo. He had many highs and lows with his mom, and they often depended on the other. When one was high, the other was low. That was their balance. With Ozzy's father now in the picture, his mom feared that their rhythmic dynamic could be challenged.

"She's not going to lose me," Ozzy said. "There's nothing to lose. Sure, my dad's here for now. I'm just trying to figure that out, not trade her in for him. Doesn't she realize that I want both of them in my life?"

"I guess not."

Ozzy tossed the controller onto the table. He didn't want this to go on any further. He stood up and marched back to the open doorway to Dash's room.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"But I thought we were playing COD?"

"I thought you had an essay to write?" Ozzy said.

"I already wrote it."

"Bullshit," Ozzy called back to him, as he walked through the doorway.

Ozzy stepped downstairs, through the foyer, kitchen, dinette, and into the family room where Philip sat in his armchair, the remote in his hand. His mom lounged on the couch; her mouth turned to a frown.

"We need to go for a drive," Ozzy said.

"Where exactly?"

"Just around," Ozzy said. "Please."

His mom exchanged an indecipherable look with Philip.

"Okay."


Chuck knocked back what remained from his last bottle of scotch. He'd given up scheming an hour ago, as his mind was as incoherent as his feelings. He nursed his bottle of scotch, thinking of Blair and lamenting what they had before he had to ruin it all. It was only a matter of time.

He slouched on the couch, his purple socked feet anchored on the coffee table, his shirt wrinkled, and tie loosened. He had no school to burden himself with, no plan as to how he could win back Bass Industries, and now Blair had left him. He looked at the loose papers that were crumpled and stained from drippings of scotch to his disheveled appearance. He didn't blame Blair for leaving. He was a mess.

Nate appeared dressed in a pair of dark jeans and light sweater. Chuck had seen the look before. It was one of his date night ensembles that was geared to a more down to earth, non-Upper East Sider type.

"Let me guess," Chuck said. "You're taking your date to Famosos?"

"Close. Delly's actually," Nate said. "Looks like you're not going anywhere?"

Maybe he would. He didn't consider it yet. He was still stuck on lamenting his last vintage bottle from 1998. A good year.

"Let me guess now," Nate said. "You had a fight with Blair?"

Chuck smirked. "I'd offer you a drink for guessing correctly, but I'm all out."

"Maybe that's for the best," Nate said. He pried the bottle out of Chuck's grasp. "What did you guys fight about?"

"Our plan to work together to oust Uncle Jack from Bass Industries fell apart. We started attacking each other. We fought and haven't spoken since."

"We or you?"

Chuck scowled. "Must you always doubt me, Nathaniel?"

"I'm not doubting you. I just know you and how you act when you're stressed out."

"My guardian angel," Chuck mocked.

"Now I see why Blair left," Nate said under his breath.

Chuck glared at him. "She'll come back."

"She has a lot of patience for you, I'll give you that, but she won't come back if she knows she has nothing to apologize for. I'd guess that she doesn't have anything to apologize for."

Chuck adjusted his position and crunched a couple pages under his right foot.

"Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?"

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself."

"Then what would you call this?"

"Trying to accept that my propensity for failure looms."

"Oh, come on, man. Are you really gonna back out this easily?"

"I'm not backing out," Chuck said. "I'm reassessing my options."

"You're telling me that between you and Blair that you don't have a plan?"

"We did. It was haphazard, and we're back at square one. Usually between the two of us, we'd have something, but this time it's different. This isn't just for fun. I have a lot at stake here."

So maybe he transferred the pressure and stress he felt about that constraint onto Blair. He could acknowledge that.

"Maybe it'll just take more time," Nate said.

"Time I don't have," Chuck said.

"Don't think of time constraints then," Nate said. "It'll just put more pressure on you and that hasn't been helping has it?"

Nate had a point, but Chuck did his best to avoid admitting it.

"I don't even know where to start."

"Start with apologizing to Blair for being an asshole," Nate said. "That's a good start."

That was the difference between Nate and himself. Nate described him as an asshole. If Chuck were lecturing Nate on his behavior, he would have been a bit more colourful with his language. He would have described himself over the past few weeks as a raging asshole. Far more accurate.

"I get your point."

"Good." Nate checked his watch. "And because of you, I'm going to be late for my date."

"Late but worth the wait I'm sure," Chuck smirked.

"Fingers crossed on that. If all goes well, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Don't do something I would do," Chuck said.

Nate clicked the door closed behind him. Chuck sat up and retracked his feet from the coffee table. He rubbed his eyes then face and stood.

If he was going to have any chance of defeating Jack, he was going to have to let go of the stress, fear, and anger that had built up over the past few weeks. He just needed to focus on the work and forget anything else that would weigh down his conscious.

But most of all, he needed to make amends with Blair.


"We're going to your father's place, aren't we?"

Ozzy kept his gaze out the window. "Yeah."

To Ozzy it seemed like the best choice. He knew how his mother worked. She'd keep pressing and pressing him without his father's knowledge. Instead of addressing the problem, she typically chose to offload the problem to not cause a scene.

"I was just trying to caution you. This isn't necessary."

The car rolled to stop. "Actually, I think it is." He unbuckled his seatbelt and didn't wait for his mother to protest more.

Ozzy got to the door first. He waited for his mother to drag her feet behind him. "I think you're taking this out of context. What I said concerns you, not your father."

"Mom come on. I think what your said concerns all three of us. Didn't we say we were going to talk about this stuff more?"

"Your shoelace is untied."

Deflection. Another defence of exposed. Whenever Ozzy hit on something truthful, she would deflect to diffuse the situation.

Ozzy tied his shoe on the elevator ride. His mother readjusted the belt of her wrap coat.

When they stepped off the elevator, his mother asked, "Are you sure he's home?"

"Positive," Ozzy said. He knocked the door three times.

The door clicked open, revealing his father. "?scar. Did you forget something?"

"No," Ozzy said shifting aside to reveal his mother. "We all need to talk. You're not busy, are you?"

His father's expression was perplexed. He rubbed the back of his neck. "No, no. Come in."

Ozzy noticed his father's cellphone on top of the dining table face up with paperwork and his laptop open. It looked like he was in the middle of a call. He father hustled to the table, picked up the phone, mumbled a few words into it and hung up.

His father jumbled the papers together and shut the screen of his laptop. He turned and pocketed his phone.

"So…what did you want to talk about?"

"Mom?" Ozzy said.

He wanted to give her a chance to explain herself. Instead she folded her arms over her chest and sighed. Her body was slightly turned away from them, and she was doing everything in her power to avoid looking at his father.

Typical. When they first were reunited last year, his mom couldn't get enough of his father. Now, she didn't want anything to do with him. He could never keep track or understand his mother's shifting attitudes.

"When I came home, mom was concerned I was spending too much time with you."

"Okay." His father articulated his answer slowly, his intonation inflecting at the end.

"I didn't say that."

"Then what did you say?"

"I was reminding Ozzy of which home he has that he can always depend on and to not be so sporadic with meetups with his father. He loses track of time, and we never know where he is, and it worries me."

His father nodded, as if he understood what cypher his mom was speaking from.

After a long pause, his father said, "Maybe we should start following a schedule?"

"That might be best," His mom said.

Suddenly, Ozzy was out of the loop of their conversation. They spoke in glances, the context of what little they said buried in the past.

"Good. What days would you like to visit?" His father asked him.

"I dunno. It doesn't really matter."

"How about Tuesdays and Thursdays? We usually go out for family dinner on Fridays," His mom said.

"Sure."

"Then it's settled. ?scar, you are also welcome to stay over on those days, but you need to let your mom know first."

"Okay." Ozzy looked at his mom for confirmation, but now she was avoiding his gaze.

"It's getting late. We should go," His mom announced.

"Of course, or course. It's a school night," His father said.

At the door, his mom turned to him and said, "Ozzy could you get the elevator? I'll be out in a minute."

Ozzy looked between his parents and knew he couldn't stay back and listen. He agreed and stepped out. He lingered on the other side of the door where his parents whispered to each other. What could they possibly have to say to each other? Whatever it was, they were making sure he didn't hear any of it.

"I'm serious Alejandro," his mom said, her voice elevating from a whisper. "You had a chance to be in Ozzy's life, and now—"

"You know what held me back. You now know what I had to do. I didn't want to leave—"

"I know, but you did. And that was hard. I can't forget that, and it doesn't change where we are now. We've moved on. I didn't know how we were going to figure this all out when you said you were moving here, but this might be the best way."

"Ruby please—"

"No. It's far too late for that. I hope you realize that now."

Ozzy backed away from the door and ran to the elevator. As he pressed the button, his mom emerged. His father leaned in the doorway and waited for them to disappear in the elevator without his enthusiastic wave.

His mom was stoic in the elevator, her mind somewhere stormy and tempestuous. Ozzy replayed the words his parents exchanged and still didn't understand what happened. All he knew was that there was more going on to his mother and father's relationship, a whole story even. What he couldn't tell was if it was over or if it was starting a sequel.


When Blair woke up with a hangover, it always began with denial. She'd go about her morning routine with a sway she wouldn't acknowledge. She started in the bathroom where she would grip onto the countertop to maintain her balance as she brushed her teeth, ignored the heaviness in her limbs as she lathered in the shower, and drank plenty of water in an attempt to ward off the headache that would gain enough strength and pulse by mid-afternoon.

But this wasn't a normal hangover. This was one of those hangovers where she woke up and couldn't remember how she found her way to her bed. It was one of those hangovers that had her eyes darting around the room, noting that she slept in the same clothes she wore the day before on top of the covers. Her trash bin that normally was tucked under her desk was right beside her nightstand.

Blair sat up and felt her temples begin to throb. Her empty stomach felt off, and if she didn't take off her makeup soon, she'd have a breakout.

As Blair gradually stood, she tried to put the pieces together from the night before. She got into a fight with Chuck. She went to the Oak Room. And then…

Blair noticed that there was a note on her nightstand.

Next time you say you've had enough to drink, I'll believe you. Call me if you need anything. – J

Jack Bass. She had a drink with Jack Bass last night. It all came flooding back to her, right up to her throwing up on the curb. Did she get some in the limo? She couldn't remember. She felt a flush of heath prickle her body at the thought of doing that so publicly.

Blair placed the card back on her nightstand and padded to the kitchen where the smell of a freshly baked good filled the kitchen. Normally, this smell would be pleasing and calming to Blair, but her stomach churned in response.

Joy sat at the centre island and clacked away on her laptop. She wore a long sleeve stripped dress that came to her calves that made Blair queasier. The colours of the stripes were what offended her most. Light pink, green, and black stripes competed and failed for attention. A tin of blueberry muffins cooled beside her.

"Morning sleepyhead," Joy said.

Blair gripped the cool granite counters. "What time is it?"

"Half past eleven."

Blair's eyes widened. She slept for that long? What day was it? Did she miss class?

"No need to panic. On Thursdays you have afternoon classes."

Blair's shoulders sagged in relief.

"I would have woken you up otherwise," Joy added.

Blair opened and closed the fridge door. She wrinkled her nose at her food options.

"Joy, were you awake when I came home last night?"

"Awake? I answered the door," Joy said.

"I don't understand. I had my key on me."

"You weren't very conscious when you arrived."

Blair's eyes widened. "What happened?"

"Don't worry. There was a man with you, and when I opened the door and saw that he wasn't Chuck, I was initially worried. He introduced himself as his Uncle, showed me ID, and explained how you got sick and just needed rest. We both carried you to your room, and he left right after. You slept the rest of the night."

Jack carried her to her apartment? She felt a shiver run through her whole body at the thought of Jack's hands on her.

"I waited until you were asleep to make sure you didn't get sick anymore, and I didn't want to change you out of your clothes while Jack was here. How are you feeling today?"

"Fine," Blair said. "Thanks for your help last night. I didn't plan on drinking as much as I did."

"Did something happen?"

"Chuck and I got into a fight," Blair said. "He's been really on edge lately, and he was taking it out on me. I had enough."

"I'm sure it's something you two can work through?" Joy said.

Last night, Blair didn't think so. She was running too high on her emotions and couldn't see past them to any solutions that were available to them. Today, she wasn't so sure. It all depended on Chuck's willingness to meet her halfway, to concede a bit, so they could work better together.

"That's if Chuck wants to work through it," Blair said.

She brewed a camomile tea to settle her stomach and at Joy's insistence that she eat something, she toasted an English muffin and lightly buttered it. As Blair settled in on the couch and took a bite out of her English muffin, there was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," Joy said.

Blair massaged her temples and debated whether she should give in and take an ibuprofen. When she experienced a normal hangover, she usually caved by mid-afternoon, but because she had class then, she considered bumping that up to after she finished eating. If she wanted a fighting chance to remain attentive or absorb anything in class, it was her best option.

Joy peaked through the eyehole and gave Blair a startled look.

'Who is it?" Blair asked.

"It's Chuck."


Bart took a sip of water from his plastic cup during the morning recess. So far, the morning had slogged on with his team continuing their opening statements. The room was full of reporters, and paparazzi were waiting on the steps of the courtroom. Before he knew it, Bart realized that this would all become normal.

He stood by the window where the micro blinds were tilted down. Outside, reporters talked to each other or were calling people on their phones. He was advised to stay in their conference room to avoid reporters coming up to him to take a statement, and it made Bart feel all the more trapped.

Frank appeared with a tray of coffees from Starbucks. "How're you holding up Bart? Holding strong?"

Frank passed him a coffee. It was black and bitter, the way he liked it. "Yes, I am. Thanks," Bart said.

"Good. We should be done our opening statement today, and the prosecution by the end of the week. Then we'll be calling in witnesses. Everyone's ready to go for that."

"Is there anything I can do?" Bart said.

"Sit pretty and let us do the work," Frank said.

He never liked that answer because it gave no substance on what he could tangibly do. It was a like a weak pat on the back. Unconvincing and patronizing. He never had the best results when he trusted others to do work for him. He worked best alone.

Bart checked his phone for any messages. He called Headmistress Queller regarding Evelyn and hadn't heard back yet. And there was another message from an unfamiliar number that he now knew to delete immediately.

Bart took his coffee and stepped out into the hallways, hoping the air was slightly fresher than the counsel room.

"Well, well, well. Look who's allowed outside his room."

Jack appeared with his hands in his pockets.

"Don't you have a company to run?" Bart said.

"I'm on lunch, and I wanted to check in with how everything was going here. I didn't realize how much attention you were getting."

Bart knew that Jack hadn't made the trip to the courthouse out of concern with his wellbeing. He was here to do something much different: gloat.

"Everything's going fine," Bart said. "Are you jealous?"

"I've got everything, and you've got nothing," Jack said. "What's there to be jealous about?"

Bart took a sip of his coffee. He hoped his indifference would disinterest Jack, but it only riled him up more.

"Aren't you scared?"

"No."

"Wow. I knew you always lived in a parallel universe, but your delusions know no bounds."

"Bart?" Frank said. "It's time to go back in."

"I'm coming, Frank," Bart said.

Jack's eyes narrowed considerably; a look Bart knew well. It was a look before he'd give an attack.

"I wonder what Misty would have thought of this," Jack said.

Bart's jaw tightened, his joints rigid. His body felt frozen, his limbs unable to move. "I wouldn't think too much about that."

"I don't have to think too much about it and neither do you. She would be disappointed in you."

"I think she'd be disappointed in both of us," Bart said. "You started this trial."

"And you're going to end it," Jack said.

"Bart," Frank called again.

"Coming." Bart gave a curt nod to Jack. "Excuse me."

"I'll see you in the courtroom. And Bart? You better warn your kids before they learn the truth about everything."

The last thing Bart wanted to hear was his brother giving him parenting advice. Bart disappeared through the doors and back into the courtroom without a retort or glance, yet his brother's voice continued to ring in his ears.

Lily joined him in the courtroom and gave his hand a squeeze. It sent a shock through him instead of comfort.

Bart took his seat beside Frank who shuffled through his legal files. He kept his gaze straight ahead and tried to drain out all the sound around him. The loudest sound was the treble of his brother's taunting voice.

Although Bart tried to diminish the voices around him, Jack was right about one thing. This was the beginning. The beginning of the end.


"Thank you so much for your time," Evelyn said while shaking the Stanford rep's hand. "Enjoy your lunch."

Evelyn checked off the last name off the list and set down her clipboard. She felt slightly better that she talked to the reps she wanted to, but the uncertainty of her college applications remained.

Dash appeared from the gym with his own clipboard in his hand. "Did you show the last rep to the lunchroom?"

"Yes. You can check my work for further proof." Evelyn offered him her clipboard.

"I'll take your word for it," Dash said. "Mr. Lawrence said we can start cleaning up the gym now, and then we're done."

Evelyn scooped up her bag. "I guess we should get started."

Evelyn didn't sleep well the night before. She tossed and turned; her dreams were filled with Dash, lots of tears, and a dog that barked at her from an alleyway in the rain.

When they started to disassemble the tables, Dash didn't leave space for silence. "Why are you really doing this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Volunteering for this. You don't need extra credit."

"Maybe I do," Evelyn said.

Dash held down the table with his hands. "I don't believe it."

"Believe what you want," Evelyn said. "Can you please?" She gestured to the table so they could fold up the legs.

"You've been avoiding me like the plague for months now, and when you saw I was involved you didn't run away. Why?"

Evelyn crossed her arms. "I told you, I needed to work on college applications."

"You have a 4.0 and extra curriculars. What more do you need to worry about?"

"About my dad's trial, okay?" Evelyn exploded; her face flushed.

"Your dad's trial?"

"Catherine suggested that my dad's trial could hurt my chances of getting into colleges. They wouldn't want to admit the wrong kind of people."

Dash's eyes flashed with a look of understanding. "You know that can't be true."

"Can you prove it?"

"I can't, but I wouldn't be so quick to believe Catherine," he said. After a beat of silence, he continued. "How is the trial going?"

"It's going," Evelyn said. "My dad doesn't want me knowing too much about it or being at all involved."

"My dad was the same way," Dash said. "His trial already ended, and the charges were dropped, so I know it's not the same, but I get it."

Evelyn nodded. "It's been an adjustment."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm hearing that a lot from you lately."

"Well, I mean it. You don't deserve to go through this. You didn't deserve a lot of things."

Evelyn shrugged. "And yet, they happened."

Dash pressed his hands off the table. "Don't listen to what Catherine says. She was probably trying to get to you."

"Well, it worked," Evelyn scoffed.

"I've known Catherine since kindergarten. She'll keep bothering you if you show her it's working."

"I've tried to show indifference, and yet, she keeps coming back."

"Then she won't go away unless you make her."

She wouldn't admit it out loud to Dash, but he had a point. Catherine would keep prodding and poking her every chance she got, and the only way to deal with that kind of parasite was to kill it.

Evelyn pulled out her phone and sent a text to Kate.

Let's get even at Catherine's birthday. I'm in the mood for a fight.

Evelyn caught Dash staring at her when she looked up from her phone. He quickly averted his gaze to the table. He set the table on its side and folded its legs one by one.

It occurred to Evelyn that she missed Dash. How she could miss someone who stood in front of her baffled her but missed him she did. She missed how easy things were when she was with him. But everything they had was as distant and faded as a star in the smoggy sky.

Dash struggled to pick up the table by himself. He lifted the table from the middle, causing the table to teeter from one side to the other.

"Here," Evelyn said. "Let me help."

He lifted the table from one end, and she the other. They stacked each table one on top of the other, until the gym was empty. Any trace of the fair that had just taken place was erased, soon forgotten.

"I guess that's it," Dash said.

It was it. For now.

Evelyn slung her backpack over her shoulder. "I guess I should get going…"

"Yeah. Physics is calling," Dash said.

They lingered at the doors. Neither wanted to say what was about to happen.

Evelyn made the first move through the door. On the other side she halted and turned to look back at him. "Dash?"

He looked up expectantly.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

No matter how angry and hurt she had felt from Dash, she could only think of their good memories in that moment.

"You know."

For the first time in months, Dash smiled.


The first thing that Chuck noticed as he stood at Blair's door was her need for his hangover cure. He could tell she was hungover because she wore yesterday's outfit, had dark circles under her eyes, and was drinking tea instead of a latte.

Joy, who stood in between his path to Blair, looked behind her shoulder and at Blair for a clue as to what she should do. Blair took a sip of her tea, winced, and waved him inside.

The apartment smelled like a bakery, which eased Chuck some. He stepped across from Blair, and decided it was best for him to not be presumptuous enough to take a seat.

"If I had known you went out last night, I would have brought my special remedy with me."

"Chuck," Blair said, while leaning her temple against her fingers. "What do you want?"

Chuck cleared his throat. "I came to apologize. I'm sorry for taking out all of my frustrations on you. You didn't deserve that. You have and always are trying to help me."

Sometimes, she tried to help a little too much, but Chuck thought it best not to mention it then.

Blair eyed him suspiciously, as if waiting for him to ruin the goodwill his apology. Chuck said nothing and waited for her to respond.

"Thank you. I think both of our stresses and emotions were running high yesterday," Blair said.

Chuck crouched in front of her and held her hand in his. "Do you think we can move forward from this?"

"That depends," Her lips turned into a mischievous smile. "How are you going to make it up to me?"

Chuck smirked and moved his hand up her skirt, between her legs. "I think I have a few ideas,"

Blair looked pained, a reaction he wasn't expecting, and she moved his hand away. "Hold that particular thought for later."

She must really not be feeling well, Chuck thought.

"Perhaps I can go get the ingredients to make my hangover cure?"

"Don't. I already took some Advil. I'm just going to have to weather out the day, and I have class in an hour."

"What did you get up to last night that left you like this today?"

Blair shook her head. "I drank too much too soon. I went to the Oak Room for a drink, then it became two, within an hour and a half it was four."

Chuck winced. Blair wasn't a heavy drinker, and with her small frame, she wasn't going to have the alcohol tolerance he had. Not even close.

Blair's eyes found the floor and she bit her lip. "Chuck, there's something I need to tell you."

Chuck felt his heart stop. "What?"

Blair got up and excused herself to her room. She came back carrying her stationary set. It was square, and Blair used it to mark her to-do lists.

This relaxed him. And here he thought she was going to say that she hooked up with another guy out of spite. Chuck felt his shoulders relax. She handed him the notepad.

Chuck read the message that was signed with a J and looked to her for an explanation.

"When I was about to leave the Oak Room, someone we know came in and insisted I had a drink with him. As you can tell, I got sick, and this person brought me home. Nothing happened, he insisted on bringing me home since I wasn't feeling well at all."

Okay. Did it please Chuck that Blair had a drink with another man? Absolutely not. But it seemed like there was no foul play involved, so he wasn't ready to jump to conclusions.

"Who did you have a drink with?"

Blair looked at him, unsure if he could handle the answer. "Your Uncle Jack."

It took a moment for Chuck to accept the answer.

"Chuck? Did you hear what I said?"

He heard. Loud and clear.

"I can't believe you. You had a drink with my uncle?"

"He insisted! I couldn't get out of there."

"What? Were your legs not working?"

"Chuck, calm down. Nothing happened, nothing would ever happen because frankly, your uncle creeps me out."

And that was supposed to make him feel better? Now he realized that his uncle wanted to take another thing away from him, and it was someone Chuck couldn't live without.

Chuck did his best to control his voice. "I believe you. I just don't like it."

"Neither did I. That's why I drank so fast. I figured if I finished my drink sooner, the sooner I could get out of there."

Chuck handed her the notepad. If he held onto it any longer, he'd be liable to burn it. "Do not get yourself into that position again, Blair. You know very well that he cannot be trusted."

"I know," Blair said softly. She looked at the message, and then at the windows. She had a faraway yet concentrated look, the same look she had when she was deciding between outfits.

"Chuck?"

"Yes."

"As far as Jack knows, we are on the outs."

"Good. For once he's uninformed."

"He left me his new phone number."

"I'd burn that if I were you."

"Chuck."

"Blair."

"You know where I'm going with this."

He did. He just didn't want to entertain the thought. Ever.

"What if he continues to think we're not together? Maybe I could get more information on him if he thinks he can open up to me."

"He won't."

"He's practically begging me to call him."

"He's just doing that to lure you away from me. You're just another thing he wants to take away from me."

Blair put her hands on her hips and scoffed. "First of all, I am not a thing. Second of all, do you really think I'm so flippant that I would just fall at the chance to be with your uncle? Could you be any more obtuse?"

"I'm just saying, Blair. That's what he's going for here."

"And clearly, I am just powerless to his charms." Blair rolled her eyes. "I don't think it would hurt to explore this angle. Gather more information, so we can expose him. I think the problem we're having is that we don't have enough to work with. Your uncle's like Teflon. Nothing sticks."

Chuck crossed his arms and considered having a drink. "I don't like this plan, Blair."

"It's not going to be fun for me either, but don't you think it's worth a shot? Don't you trust me?"

Chuck's lips formed a thin line. That's the thing. He wasn't sure he trusted her enough with this kind of mission.

"I want to," Chuck said. "But you have to realize how dangerous what your proposing is. We have no idea what Jack has planned."

"I know, but you said yourself, I can back out whenever. I will back out if there's any cause of concern to my safety."

Chuck didn't say anything. He was trying to calculate the risks and rewards of this road they were looking to take. There was so much risk, so much to lose. But if it worked…then everything would fall into place. He would never have to doubt Blair's trust again.

"Fine," Chuck said, feeling exposed to an impending attack.

Blair wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. "I won't let you down."

Careful B. When you play double agent, there's always double trouble.

You Know You Love Me,

XOXO Gossip Girl


A/N: And there you have it! The Bass family is starting to feel the repercussions of the trial leading to conflicts with each other, Evelyn/Dash begin to reconcile, Chuck and Blair reposition their strategy to take down Jack, and Ozzy navigates his own tug of war between his parents. Quite a lot happened this chapter!

What's up next? The next chapter is titled: While You Weren't Sleeping.

Have thoughts? Leave a comment and let me know what you think of the story!

Until next time,

XOXO EZ11