A/N: vdB household is alive and kickin'. The timeline is out of wack (read: nonexistent) and to that I say AUAUAUAU!

Warning: This is not a fluffy family piece. This chapter is rated K+/PG, adult themes and Chuck's POV.

Chuck was unsure whether to be amused or annoyed at how regular these family brunches had become. The mere thought of the Bass's and the van der Woodsen's having a routine—a family orientated one—would have been a joke only a year or two ago. Even Bart Bass had his assistant schedule in time for the event.

He idly wondered if while listening to Eric's anecdotes and Lily's shopping itinerary, his father counted the minutes in dollar bills he wouldn't make.

Like clockwork, minutes before the family would break apart and the table would be cleared, Serena padded down the stairs.

"Good morning. Serena." Lily's tone was full of resigned acceptance.

Serena bounded around the table, placing a quick kiss on her mother's cheek. "Morning mom. Bart." She nodded in her stepfather's direction, a bright smile making the reserved greeting warm.

His father returned her smile, albeit in his own uptight manner.

She wrapped her arms around Eric's neck, simultaneously stealing a piece of toast from youngest van der Woodsen's plate.

"Morning," Eric mumbled around a bite of food, unfazed by the disappearance of his food.

Chuck was completely prepared this time. He could move, duck, swerve—Chuck felt a rough hand brush along his head, nimble fingers destroying his carefully constructed hair.

Damn those freakishly long arms!

"Your company is the same pleasure as always, sis," he smirked unpleasantly at her. As usual his dark, dangerous, he amended, looks had no affect whatsoever on Serena.

Hair tousled and barefooted, she grabbed an apple from the table. She was wearing an oversized St Jude's sweater and boy-leg pants, which showed long expanses of tanned legs as she leaned over the table.

Chuck looked his fill, perversely satisfied at the way his father's brow lowered in the most familiar look of disapproval. He was never going to win approval, so it was more productive to never try. In fact, it was more productive to aim for disapproval that way he'd accomplish something.

"So which former member of the swim team went cold this winter?" He smiled knowingly at Serena's attire.

Since graduation Serena had returned to her former glory, or so he hoped. He was reasonably sure that one more Gossip Girl blast about Brooklyn Jr's low-class relationship with his even lower-class girlfriend would probably send Serena to the nearest tabletop, her bra still in the back seat of some minor league baseball player's Camero.

"Charles," his father warned quietly.

For some reason, Serena's misadventures were a no-go topic during breakfast (or ever). It was rather disappointing, because it beat talking about corporate takeovers or whatever piece of pop art Lily had her eyes on.

"I'm sure none of them went as cold as you." Serena quipped.

Blair had refused to talk to him for the past two months, due to some slightly inappropriate banter with a cocktail waitress that she thought she overheard. He'd tried everything his credit card could produce to win her back, but the woman was steel. Global warming wouldn't stand a chance against Waldorf's cold shoulder.

"I'm sure they didn't." He let his eyes travel down her body, a salacious smile playing over his lips. Because bringing Blair up had been a low blow (and the view really was pleasant).

She threw herself into the seat between him and his father, wiping apple juice from her lips with the back of her palm. "I'm sure you'd be more knowledgeable about the condition of our swim team's bodies." She watched him from lowered lashes, an irresistible grin spreading over her lips.

It was a not-so-subtle swipe at the days when seducing the athletics' team had been one of his favourite hobbies. He repressed a matching grin, going back to his coffee.

Lily shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I think I'll head downtown to a few small galleries."

His father's jaw tightened and Serena's eyes fixed on her apple, as if there was nothing else at the table.

"I should get to the office," his father responded dutifully.

Eric flashed a slightly bitter smile at the table before grabbing his school bag.

In an instant their almost-family broke into individual pieces, as if it had never even existed. And Chuck remembered why he hated these things so much. The facade of it was all so terribly thin.

He felt sorry for Eric the most. Chuck genuinely liked his step-brother, with his sensitive nature and dry humour. The kid had the van der Woodsen looks, the van der Woodsen charm, but none of that destruction they wore like the headiest scent.

He suspected that was kept on the inside.

Chuck and Serena were the only ones left at the table. "You think Lily's going to bang Brooklyn Senior today?"

Serena's eyes met his, not completely shocked, but she obviously hadn't known that Chuck knew. "I doubt it," she said softly. "They'll have some disguised flirting over art, mom can reminisce over her wild-child days, Rufus will feel like an almost star again, and then mom will go buy something from a legitimate gallery."

"And my father will grab the first intern he sees and bang her beside the coffee machine."

They both desperately needed this to be a joke. Because if this was the serious part of their life, that would be too pathetic for words.

"Beside the coffee machine? In the middle of the office?" Serena asked sceptically.

"That's the way the Bass men roll."

Serena laughed and he feigned a hurt look, but couldn't resist a small smile. If Serena was laughing then things couldn't be as messed-up as they looked.

"I don't think Bart is sleeping with anyone at the office."

Chuck raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Serena really shouldn't be this naive. "Are you high?" That had to be it, because Serena wasn't that naive.

"Not yet." She shrugged. "I think he really wants this family thing to work out."

Serena knew his father's feelings? When did that happen? And since when did Bart Bass have feelings? Feelings not stimulated by jailbait beside the coffee machine that was.

"Poor Bart." Chuck said scathingly. This whole family experiment was pretty much DOA.

Serena's eyes flitted away from his. "Yeah, poor Bart."

Chuck tried to read her expression and couldn't. Maybe she was thinking that they were the sad ones. Lily and Bart would have their play time, then come back and play house. Eric would do his best to smile. But him and Serena—they didn't know how to pretend that well. Serena would bury herself in martinis and boys and Chuck would spend his time shoving fistfuls of notes at bleach-blonde girls with broken eyes.

Well that's what he suspected she was doing. But she'd certainly been subtle about it all. Gossip Girl had caught a few photos of her in bars with friends from high school, but it hadn't exactly been cold-shower-worthy stuff.

Her cell's message tone went off and with a quick wave she had disappeared down the hall.

Chuck grimaced looking at the time. He'd been working for his father since leaving school and it was becoming increasingly clear that he and his father couldn't spend another minute together.

Those floor to ceiling windows were a bad choice for the office. He visualised throwing his father out of them several times a day. The fact that no other employee had tried was a testament to his father's money making prowess, that, or the inventors of bullet proof glass truly were heroes.

He headed to the study to pick up his proposal folders.

"No, it was the right one. He got them all. It wasn't your fault." Serena's voice was a little too firm. The way it always got when she was feeling unsteady.

The door to the study was open a crack. Pressing himself against the wall he peered into his father's office. He couldn't see Serena, but he could see the safe, which was wide open. The files inside it, always so meticulously ordered, in disarray.

"I have it."

He heard the sound of paper being ripped. A few seconds later Serena's breath sounded broken and harsh. She waited a few moments till her breathing calmed to speak again.

"Thanks for your help, but can you just forget about all this?"

Chuck opened the door, silently easing into the room. Serena sat behind his father's desk, holding on to a letter with one hand and her cell phone against her ear with the other.

Serena's eyes met his, calm and dull. He was a little disappointed when she didn't look guilty, but disappointment was quickly overshadowed by concern.

Not that he'd ever admit it.

Serena spoke into the phone, sill facing him. "I'm okay, but I need to go...Bye." She snapped her phone shut.

Without speaking to him, she closed up the letter. Her attention was clearly focused inwards.

"Who was on the phone?" He was too curious not to ask.

"Carter," she replied absently.

He had no idea why she was so set on wasting her time with losers. He hadn't even suspected she could do worse than Brooklyn, and then Baizen had turned up.

She reached the safe in a few long strides. Not bothering to rearrange the files, she just shut the door and keyed in the lock.

"How'd you get the code to the safe?" He couldn't bring himself to ask what's wrong? So he asked inane questions, hoping she'd tell him anyway.

She spun on him, arms crossing over her breasts, crumpled letter still in her hand. "I'm not an idiot."

"I know that."

"Just because I don't spend my time bringing about a new world order doesn't mean I can't find out a few numbers," she continued as if he hadn't spoken.

It wasn't really a few numbers. It was breaching Bart Bass's security measures. His father made NASA look lax.

He decided it was probably best to just let it go, for now anyway. He could count the times Serena had been truly angry on one hand, and it had never ended pretty.

He walked to the leather sofa in the far corner. Sprawling into it, he watched the blonde till the last of her mood seemed to disappear. Her eyes kept focusing on nothing, as if it was a struggle to even remember he was in the room. Serena never could hold a grudge, but this was never about her being angry with him anyway.

He patted his lap suggestively. "Come, tell Uncle Chucky your woes."

Chuck was pleased when a little sorrow in her expression was replaced with amusement. "I'll sit if you promise never to call yourself that again."

"Done." He'd think up something sleazier later.

She collapsed beside him, legs automatically folding beneath her. He lifted his arm and her eyes went cautious. She'd created the new her by imagining lines. Lines she'd meet, lines she wouldn't cross.

He hated those fucking lines.

He cocked his head with a smile that said he'd seen her naked and at her worst. She moved under his arm, moulding herself into his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Chuck's chest felt odd and tight and he immediately regretted his actions.

This had once been them. Dragged along to some soiree by their respective best friends, they'd sit in a dark corner, surrounded by a few of their minions, mostly the ones too clingy to socialise by themselves. He'd make pervy remarks and nasty observations about the other guests (just so she'd laugh). She'd come up with outrageous ways to pass the time, or get the cops called (just so he wouldn't be bored).

But there was no them now. Queen S had left. This was Serena, with her steady boyfriends and law abiding ways. He didn't know her, didn't always like her either.

Before he could shrug her off, she laid her head against his arm. And he couldn't move, because it looked like S, it felt like S, and he'd never been able to walk away from her before.

"Tell me what happened." His voice was gruffer than he intended.

She stilled and for a second he didn't think she'd respond. Wordlessly she handed him the crumpled letter in her hand.

He read the address on the back. He unfolded it quickly skimming the contents. His jaw clenched spasmodically. Keith van der Woodsen: asshole extraordinaire.

The letter was addressed to Lily. It explained how Serena had tried to contact him, and expressed his displeasure over this fact.

He knew very little about Serena's father. He'd met him only a few times. The blonde man with sparkling blue eyes, and slow smile was magnetic, even to a primary schooler. He was the sole heir to the van der Woodsen shipping company. Despite losing a little of its lustre over the last century the name—of the empire and the family—remained a powerful one.

"Carter helped you find him?"

"Yeah, he hired a guy who found dad and I sent him a couple letters. He didn't respond, but Carter's guy found out that a letter had been sent here." She looked up at him, with the same dull eyed expression. "Bart's kind of diabolical."

Indeed, but that was a puzzle for another day.

Serena would probably be upset if her father had an unfortunate accident. He couldn't even sabotage the guys business, because that would just hurt Serena and Eric. He'd have to be content with knowing that one day Serena would inherit half the guys company and she'd probably expect the ships to come with casinos or something.

His arm tightened around her. "It has been my experience that, with few exceptions, fathers are rather overrated."

He repressed the same aching rage that had haunted him for too many years to remember. Why were families so fucked up? Why did Eleanor do nothing but criticise? Why was the Captain scum? Why was his father the nastiest piece of work he'd ever met?

The only thing he could give her was the truth, and the truth was that she was a thousand times too good for her father. The man didn't deserve children, and he certainly didn't deserve Serena and Eric.

"You don't need him, S." He was angry for her. He wanted nothing more than to make her smile again.

And so she was his S again.

End Note: This was mainly an intro chapter, just setting up the background/imaginary timeline.