Memories - Chapter 5: Mute
Disclaimer: 'Gossip Girl' belongs to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz, and the CW. No copyright infringement intended.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The women in Chuck’s life come to haunt him.
Author's Note: This story is AU as of 2x05. And, yes, I know I’ve written a few pieces about Misty, but, for this story’s sake, forget it all. This was thought of before the big reveal. Before I started really writing about Chuck and his parents. So, please, please, please disregard my previous writings about Chuck’s parents.
Also: the ENTIRE chapter is a FLASHBACK!
March 1999 -
“I’m going to take you to the Waldorf’s.”
The phrase kept repeating in his head as Bart Bass took him to his friend’s place. He still hadn’t wanted to leave the house, but he had no choice.
He tried to stop them from moving her body, but his father held him back as they wrapped her in a black bag and carried her out of the penthouse and into the Manhattan streets.
The salty tears continued to drop and Chuck didn’t care. He just wanted her back. He wanted to wake up from the nightmare he was having during his last class of the day. And when he would come home, his mother would be waiting and asking about his day. They’d go into the kitchen and she’d make them sandwiches and they’d eat while he told her a minute-by-minute account and how he was better at something than Blair Waldorf. Misty Bass would laugh and make a comment about their competition and how Chuck liked the girl. And then Chuck would say no and tell his mother about Blair-and-Nate. Again. Because the woman seemed to always forget.
Yes, that’s how it was supposed to have gone.
But he wasn’t waking up.
Eventually he started to stare blankly at the walls and ignored his father’s words.
Bart realized that his son had become numb and just took him by the hand and led him to the waiting limo outside.
The Waldorf’s was the best place. Chuck would be with someone his own age and Dorota would get him to eat something. Plus, Bart needed a lawyer’s opinion, and besides his own lawyer, a friend would be perfect.
The duo arrived and Bart held his son’s hand as they made it up the elevator and inside the penthouse.
He had called Harold before to inform the Waldorfs of their arrival.
Harold Waldorf was a kind, friendly man; not something usually seen in high society lawyers.
He greeted the Basses with a warm smile and a “Hello.”
The smile dropped at the sight of the young boy who had tear-stained cheeks. The boy looked like he was in a trance. His eyes were glazed over and his hand was holding tightly to his father’s.
“Charles, why don’t you go upstairs to Blair?” Bart said.
There was no movement from him and Harold looked at Bart with confusion. The lawyer was not aware of what had just happened.
“Dorota!” he called behind him to the maid.
She scurried over within seconds. “Yes, Mr. Waldorf?”
“Dorota, will you please take Charles upstairs to Blair?”
The maid nodded and waited for the boy to come to her, but he didn’t move.
Bart started to remove his son’s grip on his hand and Dorota rushed over and took the hand. Chuck lifelessly followed along.
“So, Bart, what is this about? Is he all right?” Harold asked, concerned.
“Miss Blair. Mr. Chuck here,” Dorota called out as she opened the door to her young mistress’s room.
Blair was sitting on her bed and reading her history textbook when the door opened. She looked up with a smile. “Hey, Chuck!” she beamed. “Do you want to study for the history test next week?” she asked.
He blinked and just stared at the wall in front of him.
Dorota pulled her hand out of his and gave Blair a sad smile. She left.
Blair was confused now. Chuck always had something to say.
Blair didn’t know what to do. Chuck Bass was one of her closest friends; they had known each other for over two years. And for as long as she’d known him, he was never blank; so out of this world. It scared her.
The silence was making her uncomfortable and she hated that feeling; she hated things that were not how they were supposed to be.
So Blair hopped off the bed and stood in front of the boy, blocking his path to the wall. But he only stared right through her.
“Chuck?” she called out to him.
Nothing.
She gripped his shoulders and shook him. He blinked and finally looked at her.
Good, so she was getting somewhere.
She gave him a smile.
He didn’t return it.
She wasn’t sure what to do, but standing around was only giving her anxieties so she pulled him along to the bed and he sat down.
The two sat in silence and Blair kept glancing over at him, but he was still staring blankly at whatever was in front of him.
She looked around her room and landed on the history book she had been reading. And then she remembered school.
Light bulb!
“Oh, have you finished the math homework? Because I’m having some trouble with it. And you understand this. Can you help me?”
No response. The room lapsed into silence again.
Suddenly, she shivered; the hairs on her arms and back of the neck stood up. She whipped her head to face the boy.
Blair gasped and jumped in her spot.
Chuck Bass was staring at her. But instead of the dull eyes he had when he arrived, they were dark.
“You scared me!”
He still wasn’t verbally responding, but he did nod.
The action confused her for a moment before she realized he was saying yes to helping her.
Truthfully, she hadn’t even looked at the homework, and she did understand most of it. (They had only begun multiplication three weeks ago.) But, if it got him out of whatever mood he was in for whatever reason he wasn’t saying, then she’d pretend to need help.
“Okay, let me get it.” She hopped off the bed and over to the backpack beside her desk. She grabbed the book and paper and turned to him. She paused for a moment and went back to her bed.
It was quiet as they worked. There were even some things Blair did need help on - like word problems. He helped her by showing her how to do it slowly. She understood even without voiced explanations.
By the time Dorota entered the room with a tray of dinner at six, the math was complete and history was read.
Blair was confused. “We’re eating in my room?”
“Yes, Miss Blair. Your mama say just this once.”
“What?” she turned to her study buddy. “What’s going on, Chuck? My mother never lets me eat in my room. Something is clearly wrong.”
He only moved up the bed until his back was against the wall with a pillow sandwiched between.
She sighed and brought the food to him. But he did not touch anything. She only ate some of the salad before she became nauseous with anxiety.
This time, when silence was too much, she grabbed her reading book. “Do you want to read?”
He just continued to stare. So she began reading, first in her head. But after five minutes, his silent presence made her jumpy. She began reading out loud, pretending he was listening.
At around eight, Bart Bass and Harold Waldorf entered Blair’s room.
The girl looked up and put on a smile. “Hello, Daddy, Mr. Bass.”
Bart nodded his head in greeting, gaze fixated on his son. But to her he asked, “How is he?”
She looked at her companion and back to the men. “I don’t know. He hasn’t talked at all. He usually stares at the wall.”
Bart’s jaw hardened.
Harold put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He’s in shock, Bart.”
“What happened?” the little girl spoke up. Her voice hitched. Why would Chuck be in shock?
“Blair-Bear, please, not now.”
“But I want to help. I can’t help if I don’t understand.” She turned to the boy and back to the adults. “It’s scaring me.”
Both men flinched at the words and the anxious tone.
Harold immediately went to his daughter’s side and hugged her tightly. “Things will be okay, in time,” he told her, but loud enough for both Basses to hear, too.
Blair finally let her father go and moved closer to Chuck, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him.
Harold turned away, but Bart couldn’t. And he saw the single tear fall before his son returned the hug.
Blair held him tighter as he began trembling and her shirt was stained with salt.
Bart left the room and Harold followed. He found the man taking slow, deep breaths.
“Bart, why don’t you let him sleep here?”
“I doubt he’ll get any sleep. He found her in his bed.”
“I’ll give him something to knock him out for the night.”
Bart nodded his consent.
She watched him sleep, unable to do so herself. Roman Holiday was playing when her door creaked open and her father peaked in.
“You’re still up,” he entered and sat on the edge of the bed. His gaze turned to the young boy. Blair’s followed.
“Daddy…” she started. “What happened?”
Harold beckoned her to him and gave her a big hug like he did earlier. It didn’t alleviate her worries, but she returned the affection. After a few minutes, Harold let his daughter go.
“Daddy?” she questioned again.
“You should get some sleep,” was his only response.
“But…”
“Blair, we’ll talk tomorrow,” his tone final.
She nodded and went under the covers and her father tucked her in.
“Do you want to finish the movie?”
Blair looked at the screen, forgetting she started the film. She shook her head and he shut it off.
“Good night, Blair-Bear,” he kissed her forehead.
“Night, Daddy. I love you.”
“Love you, too.” He took another look at the sleeping boy before closing the door behind him as he left the kids.
Blair woke up naturally the next morning at 8:30. She turned on her side and sat up when she saw the sleeping boy. She blinked and yesterday came back to her.
She carefully left the bed, went to her closet, and headed into her bathroom.
When she came out, she was showered and dressed in jeans and a purple blouse.
As she moved close to the bed to check on her friend, his head turned and she gasped in surprised.
He didn’t say anything; just stared at her.
It took her a minute before she turned away from his lifeless brown gaze. But she walked to her bed and sat beside him. “You’re awake.”
His eyes followed her movement as he remained silent.
“How long have you been up?”
He carelessly shrugged; his eyes still vacant.
“Chuck, please tell me what’s wrong!” she pleaded.
Silence was her answer.
Sighing, she stood up and moved to her door. “I’m going to get Dorota to make breakfast.”
Blair left her room and went downstairs to the kitchen where she spotted her maid. “Dorota,” she called to her.
“Yes, Miss Blair.”
“Where are my parents?”
“Your mama working and your papa with Mr. Bass. Says no school today,” she answered.
Blair nodded, trying to figure out why Mr. Bass needed a lawyer and where was Mrs. Bass?
“I make breakfast,” Dorota said, snapping her charge out of her thoughts. “Waffles?”
Blair shook her head. “No. Chuck hates waffles. French toast,” she corrected.
“Yes, Miss Blair. I get you when ready.”
“Thank you,” and she went back upstairs.
Where she found her friend in the same spot.
By 9:30, they had finished breakfast. She ate two slices of French toast and some fruit with orange juice. Chuck managed to take one bite of the food, but nothing more besides orange juice.
Blair wasn’t sure what else they could do. Her father said they’d talk, but he was gone. And her homework was finished, too. Chuck wasn’t any help, but after Dorota returned from doing dishes, she brought over a 550-piece puzzle of a greenhouse garden. Blair smiled and began taking out all of the pieces and turning them face up on the dining room table. She then began putting the edge pieces into a pile before starting on the frame.
Chuck watched her as he sat beside the girl, but he made no movement to help.
Within 10 minutes, the edges were complete.
“All right, how about we start with this area,” she pointed to a section on the pictured box.
She went right to work without waiting for a response, knowing she wouldn’t get anything.
Another 15 minutes passed and Blair was finding the 550-piece puzzle a bit difficult. She managed to put together a small cluster of pieces, but was missing one in particular to complete it, which made her frustrated.
Suddenly, Chuck reached into the pile, picked up a piece, and put it into the hole.
“What?” she looked at him. He only picked up another piece and put it into place.
For lunch, Blair had a yogurt parfait and fruit. Chuck only worked on the puzzle.
With the two of them working diligently, the puzzle was complete by one.
“Do you want to watch TV? I don’t know what’s on.” She moved to the family room and grabbed the remote. Chuck was right behind her. As she motioned to press the on button, he reached out and finally spoke.
“No!”
Startled, she dropped the remote and gasped at him. “What?”
He froze.
She had no clue what just happened, but said the first thing that came to mind. “Don’t like soap operas?”
His eyes widened in terror.
Blair sat down on the love seat and patted the spot next to her. He sat.
Instead of asking again, she let the silence happen and waited for him to speak.
After six minutes, he lifted his legs up on the sofa to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and rested his chin on his knees, looking at her.
“She’s dead,” he whispered into the silent penthouse.
Blair’s mouth dropped open wordlessly. She closed her mouth for a moment before trying again. She wasn’t going to ask who; that was obvious. And sorry wouldn’t do anything. After silence for another few minutes, she went a different direction.
“Let’s go get Dorota to make brownies. And we’ll eat them all before my mother get’s home.” She stood up and extended her hand to him.
He paused before taking it.
“Thank you.”
.TBC.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The women in Chuck’s life come to haunt him.
Author's Note: This story is AU as of 2x05. And, yes, I know I’ve written a few pieces about Misty, but, for this story’s sake, forget it all. This was thought of before the big reveal. Before I started really writing about Chuck and his parents. So, please, please, please disregard my previous writings about Chuck’s parents.
Also: the ENTIRE chapter is a FLASHBACK!
March 1999 -
“I’m going to take you to the Waldorf’s.”
The phrase kept repeating in his head as Bart Bass took him to his friend’s place. He still hadn’t wanted to leave the house, but he had no choice.
He tried to stop them from moving her body, but his father held him back as they wrapped her in a black bag and carried her out of the penthouse and into the Manhattan streets.
The salty tears continued to drop and Chuck didn’t care. He just wanted her back. He wanted to wake up from the nightmare he was having during his last class of the day. And when he would come home, his mother would be waiting and asking about his day. They’d go into the kitchen and she’d make them sandwiches and they’d eat while he told her a minute-by-minute account and how he was better at something than Blair Waldorf. Misty Bass would laugh and make a comment about their competition and how Chuck liked the girl. And then Chuck would say no and tell his mother about Blair-and-Nate. Again. Because the woman seemed to always forget.
Yes, that’s how it was supposed to have gone.
But he wasn’t waking up.
Eventually he started to stare blankly at the walls and ignored his father’s words.
Bart realized that his son had become numb and just took him by the hand and led him to the waiting limo outside.
The Waldorf’s was the best place. Chuck would be with someone his own age and Dorota would get him to eat something. Plus, Bart needed a lawyer’s opinion, and besides his own lawyer, a friend would be perfect.
The duo arrived and Bart held his son’s hand as they made it up the elevator and inside the penthouse.
He had called Harold before to inform the Waldorfs of their arrival.
Harold Waldorf was a kind, friendly man; not something usually seen in high society lawyers.
He greeted the Basses with a warm smile and a “Hello.”
The smile dropped at the sight of the young boy who had tear-stained cheeks. The boy looked like he was in a trance. His eyes were glazed over and his hand was holding tightly to his father’s.
“Charles, why don’t you go upstairs to Blair?” Bart said.
There was no movement from him and Harold looked at Bart with confusion. The lawyer was not aware of what had just happened.
“Dorota!” he called behind him to the maid.
She scurried over within seconds. “Yes, Mr. Waldorf?”
“Dorota, will you please take Charles upstairs to Blair?”
The maid nodded and waited for the boy to come to her, but he didn’t move.
Bart started to remove his son’s grip on his hand and Dorota rushed over and took the hand. Chuck lifelessly followed along.
“So, Bart, what is this about? Is he all right?” Harold asked, concerned.
“Miss Blair. Mr. Chuck here,” Dorota called out as she opened the door to her young mistress’s room.
Blair was sitting on her bed and reading her history textbook when the door opened. She looked up with a smile. “Hey, Chuck!” she beamed. “Do you want to study for the history test next week?” she asked.
He blinked and just stared at the wall in front of him.
Dorota pulled her hand out of his and gave Blair a sad smile. She left.
Blair was confused now. Chuck always had something to say.
Blair didn’t know what to do. Chuck Bass was one of her closest friends; they had known each other for over two years. And for as long as she’d known him, he was never blank; so out of this world. It scared her.
The silence was making her uncomfortable and she hated that feeling; she hated things that were not how they were supposed to be.
So Blair hopped off the bed and stood in front of the boy, blocking his path to the wall. But he only stared right through her.
“Chuck?” she called out to him.
Nothing.
She gripped his shoulders and shook him. He blinked and finally looked at her.
Good, so she was getting somewhere.
She gave him a smile.
He didn’t return it.
She wasn’t sure what to do, but standing around was only giving her anxieties so she pulled him along to the bed and he sat down.
The two sat in silence and Blair kept glancing over at him, but he was still staring blankly at whatever was in front of him.
She looked around her room and landed on the history book she had been reading. And then she remembered school.
Light bulb!
“Oh, have you finished the math homework? Because I’m having some trouble with it. And you understand this. Can you help me?”
No response. The room lapsed into silence again.
Suddenly, she shivered; the hairs on her arms and back of the neck stood up. She whipped her head to face the boy.
Blair gasped and jumped in her spot.
Chuck Bass was staring at her. But instead of the dull eyes he had when he arrived, they were dark.
“You scared me!”
He still wasn’t verbally responding, but he did nod.
The action confused her for a moment before she realized he was saying yes to helping her.
Truthfully, she hadn’t even looked at the homework, and she did understand most of it. (They had only begun multiplication three weeks ago.) But, if it got him out of whatever mood he was in for whatever reason he wasn’t saying, then she’d pretend to need help.
“Okay, let me get it.” She hopped off the bed and over to the backpack beside her desk. She grabbed the book and paper and turned to him. She paused for a moment and went back to her bed.
It was quiet as they worked. There were even some things Blair did need help on - like word problems. He helped her by showing her how to do it slowly. She understood even without voiced explanations.
By the time Dorota entered the room with a tray of dinner at six, the math was complete and history was read.
Blair was confused. “We’re eating in my room?”
“Yes, Miss Blair. Your mama say just this once.”
“What?” she turned to her study buddy. “What’s going on, Chuck? My mother never lets me eat in my room. Something is clearly wrong.”
He only moved up the bed until his back was against the wall with a pillow sandwiched between.
She sighed and brought the food to him. But he did not touch anything. She only ate some of the salad before she became nauseous with anxiety.
This time, when silence was too much, she grabbed her reading book. “Do you want to read?”
He just continued to stare. So she began reading, first in her head. But after five minutes, his silent presence made her jumpy. She began reading out loud, pretending he was listening.
At around eight, Bart Bass and Harold Waldorf entered Blair’s room.
The girl looked up and put on a smile. “Hello, Daddy, Mr. Bass.”
Bart nodded his head in greeting, gaze fixated on his son. But to her he asked, “How is he?”
She looked at her companion and back to the men. “I don’t know. He hasn’t talked at all. He usually stares at the wall.”
Bart’s jaw hardened.
Harold put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He’s in shock, Bart.”
“What happened?” the little girl spoke up. Her voice hitched. Why would Chuck be in shock?
“Blair-Bear, please, not now.”
“But I want to help. I can’t help if I don’t understand.” She turned to the boy and back to the adults. “It’s scaring me.”
Both men flinched at the words and the anxious tone.
Harold immediately went to his daughter’s side and hugged her tightly. “Things will be okay, in time,” he told her, but loud enough for both Basses to hear, too.
Blair finally let her father go and moved closer to Chuck, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him.
Harold turned away, but Bart couldn’t. And he saw the single tear fall before his son returned the hug.
Blair held him tighter as he began trembling and her shirt was stained with salt.
Bart left the room and Harold followed. He found the man taking slow, deep breaths.
“Bart, why don’t you let him sleep here?”
“I doubt he’ll get any sleep. He found her in his bed.”
“I’ll give him something to knock him out for the night.”
Bart nodded his consent.
She watched him sleep, unable to do so herself. Roman Holiday was playing when her door creaked open and her father peaked in.
“You’re still up,” he entered and sat on the edge of the bed. His gaze turned to the young boy. Blair’s followed.
“Daddy…” she started. “What happened?”
Harold beckoned her to him and gave her a big hug like he did earlier. It didn’t alleviate her worries, but she returned the affection. After a few minutes, Harold let his daughter go.
“Daddy?” she questioned again.
“You should get some sleep,” was his only response.
“But…”
“Blair, we’ll talk tomorrow,” his tone final.
She nodded and went under the covers and her father tucked her in.
“Do you want to finish the movie?”
Blair looked at the screen, forgetting she started the film. She shook her head and he shut it off.
“Good night, Blair-Bear,” he kissed her forehead.
“Night, Daddy. I love you.”
“Love you, too.” He took another look at the sleeping boy before closing the door behind him as he left the kids.
Blair woke up naturally the next morning at 8:30. She turned on her side and sat up when she saw the sleeping boy. She blinked and yesterday came back to her.
She carefully left the bed, went to her closet, and headed into her bathroom.
When she came out, she was showered and dressed in jeans and a purple blouse.
As she moved close to the bed to check on her friend, his head turned and she gasped in surprised.
He didn’t say anything; just stared at her.
It took her a minute before she turned away from his lifeless brown gaze. But she walked to her bed and sat beside him. “You’re awake.”
His eyes followed her movement as he remained silent.
“How long have you been up?”
He carelessly shrugged; his eyes still vacant.
“Chuck, please tell me what’s wrong!” she pleaded.
Silence was her answer.
Sighing, she stood up and moved to her door. “I’m going to get Dorota to make breakfast.”
Blair left her room and went downstairs to the kitchen where she spotted her maid. “Dorota,” she called to her.
“Yes, Miss Blair.”
“Where are my parents?”
“Your mama working and your papa with Mr. Bass. Says no school today,” she answered.
Blair nodded, trying to figure out why Mr. Bass needed a lawyer and where was Mrs. Bass?
“I make breakfast,” Dorota said, snapping her charge out of her thoughts. “Waffles?”
Blair shook her head. “No. Chuck hates waffles. French toast,” she corrected.
“Yes, Miss Blair. I get you when ready.”
“Thank you,” and she went back upstairs.
Where she found her friend in the same spot.
By 9:30, they had finished breakfast. She ate two slices of French toast and some fruit with orange juice. Chuck managed to take one bite of the food, but nothing more besides orange juice.
Blair wasn’t sure what else they could do. Her father said they’d talk, but he was gone. And her homework was finished, too. Chuck wasn’t any help, but after Dorota returned from doing dishes, she brought over a 550-piece puzzle of a greenhouse garden. Blair smiled and began taking out all of the pieces and turning them face up on the dining room table. She then began putting the edge pieces into a pile before starting on the frame.
Chuck watched her as he sat beside the girl, but he made no movement to help.
Within 10 minutes, the edges were complete.
“All right, how about we start with this area,” she pointed to a section on the pictured box.
She went right to work without waiting for a response, knowing she wouldn’t get anything.
Another 15 minutes passed and Blair was finding the 550-piece puzzle a bit difficult. She managed to put together a small cluster of pieces, but was missing one in particular to complete it, which made her frustrated.
Suddenly, Chuck reached into the pile, picked up a piece, and put it into the hole.
“What?” she looked at him. He only picked up another piece and put it into place.
For lunch, Blair had a yogurt parfait and fruit. Chuck only worked on the puzzle.
With the two of them working diligently, the puzzle was complete by one.
“Do you want to watch TV? I don’t know what’s on.” She moved to the family room and grabbed the remote. Chuck was right behind her. As she motioned to press the on button, he reached out and finally spoke.
“No!”
Startled, she dropped the remote and gasped at him. “What?”
He froze.
She had no clue what just happened, but said the first thing that came to mind. “Don’t like soap operas?”
His eyes widened in terror.
Blair sat down on the love seat and patted the spot next to her. He sat.
Instead of asking again, she let the silence happen and waited for him to speak.
After six minutes, he lifted his legs up on the sofa to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and rested his chin on his knees, looking at her.
“She’s dead,” he whispered into the silent penthouse.
Blair’s mouth dropped open wordlessly. She closed her mouth for a moment before trying again. She wasn’t going to ask who; that was obvious. And sorry wouldn’t do anything. After silence for another few minutes, she went a different direction.
“Let’s go get Dorota to make brownies. And we’ll eat them all before my mother get’s home.” She stood up and extended her hand to him.
He paused before taking it.
“Thank you.”
.TBC.