She wakes up with a start, her senses immediately on alert as she sits up in the large, king-size bed. She listens closely, but when she can't hear a sound she falls back against the mattress with a tired sigh. A glance over at the alarm clock on her nightstand lets her know it's almost four A.M. Three more hours before he has to get up and be the ever-successful CEO of Bass Industries; before Dorota arrives and a new day begins. Close to dozing off again, she inches over to curl up against him, her arm reaching out for him underneath the covers. When she finds nothing but empty sheets where he is supposed to be, she is fully awake once again and lifts her head from the pillow to make sure he really isn't there in bed with her.

He isn't, but the sheets are still warm so he can't have been gone for long, and she has a pretty good idea of where he might be. After a second's deliberation she swings her feet over the edge of the bed and gets up. The sound of her footsteps is barely audible as she leaves the room, grabbing her robe from where it is lying on the settee at the foot of the bed. Stepping out in the hallway she listens carefully but can't hear much beside the sounds of the house and the barely-there noises of the street outside. A friendly purr interrupting the silence has her nearly jumping out of her own skin, and she shoots Princess a dark look as the cat comes running over to her from her earlier position at the top of the staircase. Who needs a guard dog when you have a ferocious, accessory-mauling cat? She smiles as Princess rubs against her legs, and bends down to scratch the cat behind a silky ear.

The pale, silver moonlight is casting muted shadows in the dim hallway, the photographs and artwork on the green walls looking as if they are completely in black and white. It's the perfect house, as wonderful now as the first time she saw it three years ago. She spent weeks with the interior designer they assigned for the job, making sure everything turned out just the way they wanted it, close to stalking the poor woman in her attempts to monitor the process from start to finish. But it had paid off, she thinks and smiles to herself, the house had been ready well in time for their wedding, and nothing could possibly have beaten returning from their honeymoon only to move into their new home.

She walks unhurriedly down the hall, absentmindedly twirling the wedding band on her finger and stifling a yawn. Well at the end of the hallway, she can hear him moving around inside the room there, murmuring, and slows down so that she is almost tip-toeing. The sight that awaits her once she is standing in the doorway has her heart swelling in her chest.

There they are - the two of them together - the two people in this world that she loves more than anything. The part of her mind that is always looking for the next great shot takes a mental picture of the image they portray. The master of the mansion, all sharp angles and dark hair, and cradled safe and sound in his arms – her head resting in the crock of his neck - is the centre of their universe, the axis on which their joined world turns. Isabella Grace.

The moonlight is falling through the window, illuminating the room and showering them in pale light. He is humming, she realizes, rocking back and forth on his heels in a way she knows her daughter likes. Demands might actually be a better choice of word. She might be no more than four months old, but Isabella Bass already knows what she wants, and makes sure she gets it. Isabella is merrily banging her hand against his chest and Blair can tell that her daughter is clearly not even close to sleepy. He chuckles at her behavior, bowing his head down to brush his lips against the baby's temple, and she can almost smell that lovely baby smell in her own nostrils just from watching him.

He is not sure what woke him up. Given how tired he had been when he finally got back from his late-night conference call just after midnight he should be dead to the world. But wake up he did, and walked into the nursery only to find Isabella – his beautiful, happy, and intelligent baby girl - awake too and babbling happily at the sight of him.

"You should be sleeping, Isabella." He points out to the baby and stifles a yawn but Isabella seems to take no notion to his words. Where his daughter has gotten her night owl tendencies from he has no idea, should that really kick in before adolescence? He knows that Blair was up two hours ago, for he vaguely remembers the whispered 'go back to sleep' before she left the bed.

"Don't think this staying up all night will continue when you're older." He scolds her gently, already cringing at the thought of his baby girl running around the UES with boys just waiting to put their icky paws on her. And there will be boys chasing after her, of that he is unfortunately completely positive. As if anyone could resist a Bass.

"Mommy's going to have to teach you the infamous Blair Waldorf shin kick" He concludes, and places a kiss on top of her dark, downy hair. Isabella's only reaction to her father's attempt to get her back to sleep is to reach out for the buttons of his shirt and clap her hand against his chest.

He captures her tiny hand in his, smiling as she grips his index finger and lets out a delighted squeal. That is when he spots something out of the corner of his eye. The ungraceful flip-flop inside his chest is just as prominent as always as he looks up at Blair standing in the doorway.

Two pairs of eyes in the same shade of dark whiskey turn her way. Isabella is reaching out for her instantly and letting out a happy noise as she does so.

"You're not supposed to keep her up." She reprimands him softly as she walks up to them.

"We're having a very important father-daughter conversation." he replies and hands their daughter over to her. Chuck watches the way Isabella clings to her mother and notices how she instantly looks more tired than the second before. "Why are you up?" He continues, putting his arm around Blair's waist and yawning again.

"You weren't there." She tells him, as if that alone would be a reason to travel to the moon and back in search of him. When she too lets out a yawn, he leads them over to the armchair big enough for two in the corner of the room.

She leans back against the armrest, her legs thrown over his and his arm around her shoulders, Isabella resting comfortably in her arms.

The silence that fell once they sat down is interrupted as Blair starts humming something under her breath. It makes him smile because he never knew she could carry a tune until Isabella came around. But she can and she hums a lullaby that rarely fails to put their daughter to sleep. Soon the youngest member of the Bass family is fast asleep, and he can feel Blair's head come to rest against his arm. That is when he carefully takes the baby, and puts Isabella down in her crib before turning to his wife.

"Mrs. Bass?" He murmurs, holding out his hand. She takes it, but not without a roll of her eyes. She still hangs on to that hyphen relentlessly, but he knows better. The bet is still somewhat open, how that happened they are not quite sure, but thanks to the very loyal employees as Bass Industries' legal department, all her papers says 'Blair Bass'.

"Waldorf-Bass." Her objection is cut short by another broad yawn as they walk down the hallway hand in hand.

"Your passport begs to differ." He points out as they climb into bed. The way the palm of her hand hits his shoulder is not as indignant as it could have been, and is definitely countered by how she curls up close to him. Her head is on his arm and her leg slung over his hip.

"Mother-chucker." She mumbles, already half asleep, her hand moving over his chest only to stop above his heart.

"Love you too…Mrs. Bass." He smiles, and is sure that she has fallen asleep when there is no immediate or witty reply. Closing his eyes he too is seconds from succumbing to sleep, when her low, sleepy mumble momentarily brings him back to consciousness.

"…love you."

FIN

A/N There you have it guys…it's all finished!

Abby- my wonderful beta - I can't ever thank you enough for sticking with this story for so freaking long! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! :)

(-hands over virtual version of Chuck looking as hot as always in his new hair and with no shirt on- )

Big thank you's also to Noirreigne and Maddy for helping out with the beta of a few chapters, you guys rock.

Then there are you, all the lovelies that have followed this fic (and maybe even WWCCD before that)… You have made this such an amazing experience.

And to those of you who have reviewed along the way, you've made my day on more occasions than I can count, THANK YOU!

Thanks for reading.