Title: Finish my Sentences

Summary: When an unwelcome visitor returns to the Upper East, she brings along her Louis Vuitton luggage full of devious scams and schemes. This time, she's not only aimed at Serena, but the whole lot of the Constance upperclassmen. Only two people are scandalous enough to play her game. Separately, they have no chance against her. But can these two work through their differences when they find out that said visitor is more dangerous than she seems? Chuck/Blair; various other pairings. Set after 2.16.

Disclaimer: Do not own any characters.

Rating: PG-13; possible to have one or two M-rated chapters.

Author's Note: Well, this is going to be a super long author's note because you guys are seriously amazing. I'm so sorry this update has taken so long, my life is consuming me right now - not in a bad way, but I've just got SO MUCH going on. You can ask Abby if you don't believe me (: Anyway, thanks for the 20 reviews last chapter!! I can't believe it, you guys are...have I said amazing enough yet? Anyway, I promise to get my next update out faster, and I hope you guys enjoy this one! (Could I sound any cornier or use any more exclamation marks, seriously?)

Enjoy. Reviews are appreciated.

XIX. Forgiveness

His eyes squinted in anticipation for a fluorescent light to blind his eyes. But instead, when he finally cracked a bleary eye open, all that greeted him was darkness. For a split second he panicked - could it have been possible that he was back in the Palace? That the rescue was just his imagination?

Until he heard a quiet coughing coming from a dimly lit corner of the room. Chuck raised his head a mere centimeter, just enough to lever himself to a position where he could see what the noise was coming from. A figure was sitting on a uncomfortably cushioned chair, holding a reading light to his book, frantically flipping through the pages.

Chuck let out a guttural hack from deep within his throat. The mysterious person jumped at the sudden noise, throwing the book light and novel onto the floor. They clattered to the ground as the man tried to recollect himself.

"Chuck. You scared me."

Chuck sat back a little further, wincing at the pain that surged through his upper chest. The light, however, had landed closer to him, and he could now clearly see the IVs and other various medical instruments hooked up to him.

"Who are you?" Chuck asked bluntly, not bothering with his manners.

"It's me, Carter."

Chuck's pulse quickened, "Where the hell is this? Why are you here?"

Carter stepped calmly toward the doorway and flicked the light on. Light flooded into the room; Chuck didn't cringe at the light. Somehow the burning of his eyes felt welcoming.

Carter stood before him, distressed and disheveled, eyeing him wearily. Chuck's heart rate slowed; it didn't seem as if Carter had any negative intentions. He was merely standing there, scratching an arm, watching Chuck carefully.

"Do you need something?" Chuck's abrasiveness, though minutes ago had seemed fitting, suddenly felt rude and ignorant. Which was odd, because although Carter didn't seem to mean any harm, he still had committed several inexcusable acts.

"Look, I just wanted to say something to you." Carter ran a hand down his scruffy, unshaven face, leaning back against the wall.

When he didn't speak for a good minute, Chuck broke in, "Was that it?"

Carter, who had been staring at Chuck intently for the previous minute, now fixed his glance elsewhere, seeming to be avoiding Chuck's gaze.

"I've done a hell of a lot of bad things in life, I've made terrible decisions, but I think this was just unforgivable."

Chuck didn't respond. What was there to add, anyway? Carter had pretty much nailed the extent of things head-on.

"I just… I think I got carried away by the thought that I could have control. All my life I've been wanting to take control. Even when I had forgone my family for a lifestyle of excitement, it still just wasn't enough. So when Georgina offered it to me…" he trailed off, kicking a leather shoe hard into the swirling marble, leaving a ebony black skid mark.

"That doesn't give you a right," Chuck hardly recognized his voice. Despite his fury, he'd maintained a cold, icy tone. His words seemed to be laced with hatred. "You said it yourself. Unforgivable things; that's exactly what they are."

"And I realized it! Isn't that something?" Carter's voice had a pleading edge to it.

"You realized it. What do you want me to do about it? Award you? It doesn't make up for what you did to Blair. It doesn't forgive what you did to me." As if to make his point, Chuck traced a finger on his wounded chest, grimacing at the pain of the stitches under his nail.

But he didn't let Carter continue. He had other things on his mind - "Blair! Where is she?"

"She's fine. They're talking to her - a psychiatrist, a physical therapist - they're all there. She's going to be okay, Chuck."

Chuck wanted to believe him, but somehow, coming from Carter's mouth, it seemed so absurd and deceitful. "I need to talk to her."

"They aren't letting anyone speak to her right now. You can call a nurse…" Carter leaned over his bed and pressed into a small button.

"Chuck, I need you to understand why I did it. I need you to stop being hypocritical and for once try to realize that you would have done the same thing!" the words shook. "It wasn't just Georgina, either. It wasn't the money - yes, she was paying me. It was the lifestyle! The power, the pride… I craved it. Power makes you crazy, I've learned, but I can't change anything I've done."

Chuck looked away. The words spewing out of his mouth were filth. He refused to listen to the garbage pouring from the imbecile.

"I've done everything wrong, and you have a right to be angry. But please try and understand where I'm coming from!" Carter no longer tried to keep his voice to a minimal level. Instead, he let himself scream the words, as if saying them louder somehow made his theory correct.

Yet again, Chuck gave him a hard, blank stare.

Defeated, Carter collapsed into the lumpy cushion of the couch. He dropped his head into his hands, and finally it came out as a whisper, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

"Honestly, I'm trying to make up excuses. And you're right - I can't do that anymore. I don't even deserve to - "

A light rapping on the door interrupted Carter's quiet rant, "Hello? I got a call from this room?"

"Yes, Chuck Bass called," Carter announced, walking towards the door after meticulously picking his items up.

"No, wait," Chuck stopped the nurse, "Can you give us just a minute?"

The nurse complied with a swift nod.

Carter raised an eyebrow, "Chuck, I'm going to go. You can save your breath."

"No, Carter. If you weren't so damn busy trying to tell yourself you were right, I'd have had a chance to talk already."

Carter stuttered, as if to reply, but Chuck continued, "I never thanked you. I never told you how grateful I was for you not shooting Blair. And I do accept your apology. However, I cannot forgive you. I simply can't."

Carter nodded - one, sharp flick of his neck - then quickly exited the room. Chuck sighed in relief, finally relishing the cool air of the air conditioning drying his sweating forehead.

…

The questions were making her sick. Not a queasy, sick-to-the-stomach sick, but sick in a mental institution, psychopaths-in-a-white-room kind of sick. The way the doctors talked - in hushed tones, of course - about her, she just wanted to throw a chair. "She's been traumatized" one doctor said. "Physically and emotionally abused" the other added. But no matter what words they were using to describe the weeks she had spent in pure hell; in which she had been raped, assaulted, and almost killed, they never seemed to address her.

She wanted to scream at them. She wanted to stand up in her uncomfortable white hospital gown and yell, "I'm standing right fucking here. Can you please act like I'm in the room?"

The psychiatrist was the only one that paid any attention to her. But even then, it was only to bombard her with questions that she wanted nothing more than to avoid.

So she escaped. It had taken a lot of brain-work and scheming, but she had gotten past the idiots and made her way into the marble-tiled hallways, wandering about, wondering if she had an ulterior motive for sneaking out.

And she did. She was finished with denial - after all, wasn't that what got her into the situation in the first place? She needed to see Chuck.

Walking cautiously down the walkway, carefully watching her step to ensure complete silence, she tiptoed to a room labeled: Patient 330, Charles Bass.

She didn't bother knocking.

And it wouldn't have mattered because he was sitting upright, staring at her as she walked into the room.

"They wouldn't let me see you," Chuck blurted, a rare occasion for a man who usually said exactly what he wanted when he wanted to.

"I snuck out," she replied.

The tension was tangible as they stared at each other. Was there really anything else that need to be said? As her eyes swallowed his - even at ten feet away from each other - she felt the fire burn at the connection.

"Was it worth it?" his voice rasped.

She hesitated, an involuntarily moved a step closer to him, "I think so."

He was staring at her. Not uncomfortably, but a definite stare. He wasn't leering, he wasn't smirking, but merely watching her as if he'd never seen anything like her before. The intensity in his eyes was almost scary.

They didn't speak for a while, just drank the image of each other in.

"I wonder…" she didn't finish.

He didn't bother to ask her the end of the sentence. They both knew that there was nothing to say, and she was doing nothing but filling the emptiness.

She took another three steps forward until she was directly in front of him. Her heartbeat quickened, something she still had to get used to. Settling into the chair that conveniently sat beside his bed, she rested her elbow on the arm of the seat.

"Do you think…" it was his turn to attempt conversation.

She let out a small grin; the joke was now blatantly obvious.

Then, instead of waiting for her next half-question, he leaned forward until their lips were mere inches apart.

"Here's a full sentence: Now is it worth it?" the smirk curled onto his lips as he let their lips slowly come into contact.

A light knock cut them short.

Blair jumped away from the bed, and Chuck leaned back, running a hand through his hair in attempt to seem masculine.

A nurse walked in, wearing a knowing smile, before announcing: "You have a letter."

Both their bloods turned to ice and their hearts ceased to beat. They'd heard those words one too many times in their life.

Chuck took the envelope into his shaking hands, slowly peeling the flap open, with Blair holding her breath as the contents came into view.

tbc