Broken Clock

Summary: Chuck Bass was supposed to be invincible. Or so, that's what Blair thought.

Rating: PG-13. Or whatever rating you have in FF that's equal to PG-13.

I stood there, in the middle of it all. The ashes were blackening my new summer sandals, but I couldn't care less. Everything was gone – covered by the ashes. Not a pen or a book in sight. There was nothing there to give me the image of what the house used to look like. The remains of the Hamptons house looked out of place compared to the green lawns and white homes of the ones surrounding it.

I was surrounded by the smell of burnt wood and cold ashes. I was all alone in the middle of the tragic accident. I stood before the ashes, on the ground of what used to be the living room. The television, the couch, even the staircase was gone. The beautiful, white carpeted staircase was long gone. Ashes – everywhere I looked, there was nothing but ashes and burnt memories.

I'm falling apart.

The sound of his voice was there, in the back of my mind. His velvet voice drawing me to tears – tears that I knew would be shed later on. His face, the delicate features of his godlike face continued to roam my mind. His chuckle was the only thing heard by my ears. It continued to replay like a horrible, broken record. I wanted to make it stop, to turn it off – but I couldn't, because if I did, it may never come back again.

I've already lost him. The truth forced its way towards me; I couldn't push it away anymore. The tears were pushing against my eyelids, but I couldn't let them go. I wanted him back, but I could not. I didn't want to lose him, but I did.

A limo was supposed to take me here. I was supposed to make him go green with jealousy. I was supposed to laugh at his discomfort while I flirted with different men every day. But I could not do that anymore, could I? He is gone and I don't know how to get him back.

I arrived thirty minutes after the firefighters extinguished the fire. I was greeted by the sight of my best friend looking like a blubbering idiot. I rushed out of the limo and engulfed her in my arms. I noticed the way she cried heavier when she noticed that it was I who was holding her. I didn't know why she kept murmuring how he's gone at that time.

When Nate explained to me what happened, I felt myself freeze in shock. Serena had burst into another set of tears after a minute of trying to stop. Nate explained how the fire started – it was all because of a candle that was set inside the bathroom, Serena's bathroom. The fire managed to spread without any of them knowing. Nate wasn't there when it happened, but told the story the way the investigators told him.

Nate then became darker and graver than I had ever seen in my life. Something inside me twitched because of the nervousness I felt. I knew something bad happened – I could just feel it.

That's when I decided that hearing the truth is far worse than feeling what you think is the truth. I could remember the silence that engulfed us, even Serena's sobs seemed to quiet down when he told me the truth. Serena was clearly fine – shaken up, obviously, but she was fine. A few bruises and burns, but nothing that will hurt her beauty. But when Nate said that one phrase, I've never felt weaker. I felt cold and vulnerable. A feeling I was not used to. I wanted to feel in control again, to be so sure of myself.

"As you can see, Serena made it out fine. But it's Chuck – he saved Serena but he didn't make it out alive."

I'm barely breathing.

As much as I wanted to push away the thoughts of him, I couldn't. The unique way he smirks haunts my mind. I couldn't forget the sound of Chuck whispering perverted comments in my ear whenever we would lie awake in the middle of the night. And then I would see his adorable and not to mention his incredibly sexy smirk.

But I would no longer see that because he was taken away from me.

True, I was angry at him but I predicted to have him under my clutches by the end of the summer. I didn't expect to be standing here, trying to stop the tears from erupting because Chuck Bass was dead. No, never in my life did I predict something like this. He had to pick this moment to be heroic and brave. He had to save Serena van der Woodsen. Serena had a way to take everything away from me. Right now, I don't care if she didn't mean to. She just always manages to take things away from me, and for that, I despise her.

Chuck Bass had to go and bid himself a fucking death wish.

He didn't think of anyone but himself. But why did he pick this moment to think of others? Why couldn't he get out with Serena? Why did he have to leave himself inside? If he saved himself, he would've saved me from a whole lot of heartbreak.

I gave my best friend the darkest, angriest and coldest look I could muster. My eyes burned into hers, her tears continued to run but I didn't care. She killed someone important to me. She killed him.

She wasn't to blame, I knew that. But I would continue to blame her because he spent his last moments with her. And what are my last moments with him? An angry phone call cursing him with words I didn't even know I knew.

With a broken heart,
That's still beating.

Serena had the decency to tell me how much he fought to save himself. She told him how that saving her might kill both of them in the process. He didn't care about that at the moment, he told her. All he cared about was getting out one way or another. That he tried to get them out, that he didn't cower and run. He wanted to prove himself to everybody, to his father, to me.

But I didn't care about that. I was blinded by my selfish hate. Why did she live while he died? She was just as bad as he was.

Now, Serena can now tell herself she killed someone. It's her fault. She caused the fire. Chuck saved her – but he got killed in the process.

I could feel the scream wanting to erupt from my throat, but somehow, due to the frustration and the surprising heavy feeling of heartbreak, I couldn't do it. I just couldn't force myself to scream out loud. I wanted to hide away my frustrations. I thought that hiding it would keep me away from swallowing the truth of what the frustrations were about.

I never imagined being this infatuated – dare I say – in love with him. If you would have asked me a year ago if I would ever think of Chuck Bass as more than a perverted friend I could always plan evil schemes with, I would have laughed it off with a loud never. But now, I didn't know what to do anymore. I only got to spend one week with him – a blissful week.

I was angry at the same time hopeless. He left me on a trip that he planned. He probably flirted and kissed and probably slept with more than a dozen women already – granted, that I was caught partying all over Europe. We were supposed to take it slow – enjoy each other's company. But I couldn't spend anymore with him now, can I?

My lips were bruised because of the way I have been viciously biting them for the past hour, angrily tearing them apart because I believed there was no need for them anymore. I didn't want to eat – my hunger permanently banished. I didn't want to talk anymore. There was no one to banter with, no one to fight with who would have equally witty comebacks that would be worth my time. And he was gone – I just can't picture myself letting another set of lips touching mine. I only wanted the smooth, smirking lips that would kiss me in a way that would make me feel scared yet at the same time, cared for.

He treated me the way I wanted to be treated – like royalty. He somehow molded into the movie I memorized inside my head. He was the prince charming I was waiting for. He was dangerous but at the same time, incredibly caring and protective. No, he wasn't the white knight I used to dream of. He was like the dark knight that strayed away from the white knight's presence. He was the mysterious one, the one everybody hated.

Well, everybody got their wish granted, didn't they? The dark knight was gone, burned to ashes. The one everyone loved to hate was gone. But not everybody was happy. I wasn't, I was far from happy.

Chuck Bass had the most captivating voice and features I have ever had the luck to encounter. His lips had a way of forming a smirk that would leave men and women staring. His voice was deep and dark and he always manages to keep people listening, whether they want to hear it or not. He has the ability to draw you in and leave you hanging and wanting more.

If I closed my eyes, I could imagine him barking off about his clothes getting burned. I could hear him tearing Serena apart because this was her fault. I could almost feel him next to me, whispering angry comments about the burned house, and probably a couple of disturbing comments as well.

But there was a thought I refused to put inside my mind. He was dead, and I should start to believe it.

In the pain,
There is healing.

"Blair." His deep and quiet voice rang inside my empty bedroom. We were both tangled up by my sheets. My head was on his chest; his arm was draped across my shoulders. I opened my eyes and looked at him curiously.

"Yes, Charles?"

His chest shook with a soft chuckle that I would've never guessed to be Chuck's if we weren't the only ones inside the room. "Have you ever been to Tuscany?"

I closed my eyes and inwardly groaning at his pointless question. He was clearly still intoxicated by the alcohol he consumed on the way to her home. "No, why do you ask?"

I shivered as his cold fingers slowly drew circles on my arm. "Let's go." He simply says.

I reopened my eyes and looked at him with amusement. "Tuscany?" I questioned, barely concealing my giggles.

His eyes searched mine and smiled down at me. "Yes. Let's go."

Maybe it was the way he said it, or the way his eyes looked so sincere, so true. But there was something there that made me smile and nod my head. "Tuscany with Chuck, alone? Sounds extremely tiring." My eyes twinkled with mischief as his body shook with laughter.

"You bet it is."

In your name,
I find meaning.

I wanted to remove the memories, not just that, but every single one of them. The memories came flooding back down and it hurt even more. I felt myself shake as I slowly let myself fall onto the ground. I no longer cared if it was dirty. No, that was the least of my worries.

To me, I believed that Chuck Bass was invincible. He was supposed to be immortal. He could stand a punch; he could drink alcohol even though he already has a strong hangover. He was supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to die. He wasn't supposed to die that easily. He wasn't supposed to be heroic. He was expected to save his life – his and his alone.

Broken sobs continued to erupt from my fragile and petite body. My shoulders were shaking and I couldn't breathe properly. The sobs continued to erupt, stronger and faster they went down my cheeks. I couldn't stop the sound of his voice from entering my mind. I couldn't stop the pair of brown, captivating eyes that clouded my thoughts. He wasn't there to tell me everything was going to be fine, that he was Chuck Bass, that he can do anything. And he can't tell me anything because he's dead.

All I wanted was for him to tell me that the butterflies were flying again. I wanted to hear his voice tell me that he is sorry.

He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He is dead.

Chuck Bass is gone. He let himself get killed. The fucking idiot let himself burn and turn into ashes.

So I'm holding on,
I'm barely holding on to you,

I finally managed to raise myself up – gracefully yet the thought never entered my mind. I felt numb as I walked around the fully burned house. My sandals were brushing the black ashes on the ground and it made me gasp for air as the thought of Chuck being the ashes I was stepping on.

The master bedroom he was staying in was right above the kitchen, the remains of the second floor crumpled on the ground. As I tried to compose myself, something near a pile of ashes caught my attention. Threads of fabric were hanging of the top. Something inside my heart tugged as I walked towards it. I slowly pulled the fabric away from the ashes and felt myself fall and break down again.

I was gasping for air as I cradled the fabric in my arms. The tears were overflowing down my cheeks. The familiar black, red, and white polka dotted silk scarf was wrapped around my arms. It was burned, but nothing a little tailoring won't fix. How it survived, I will never know. I pulled it away and fumbled with it slowly, letting the soft fabric touch my skin.

I realized Chuck wasn't to blame, and Serena wasn't either. He saved someone we both cared about; he sacrificed himself for someone else. Something I knew he could do, but I doubted that he would ever do it. He knew that a lot of people loved Serena; a lot of people cared for her and needed her.

But a lot of people cared about him, too. For a clear example, please look at Specimen A, labeled as Blair Waldorf.

I'm falling apart,
I'm barely breathing.

I never realized how much I loved him until now. How much I cared about him. So many years have been wasted when they could have easily been spent with him. I never experienced this much amount of pain, ever. Even when my father left my mother for a man and my best friend left without saying goodbye. It didn't even reach the level I felt when Nate revealed his list of lies. And just when I thought the pain I felt when I was thrown off the position of Queen Bee and when both Chuck and Nate disowned me was horrible, compared to the pain I felt now, it was like this tiny little ant you would see from planes from the sky.

I could feel this hollow pit in my stomach, and for the first time, it wasn't because I was weak and gave up to my sickness. It was because someone I loved left me. The dryness in my throat was almost unbearable; it almost caused me to choke on my own tears.

With a broken heart,
That's still beating.

When I finally managed to stand back up and walk back towards the front of the house – or the house that it used to be – I saw Nate and Serena look at me. Serena's eyes were bloody red and I knew mine looked exactly the same. Nate had an arm around Serena and looked at me sadly. She avoided my eyes like the plague.

But I wanted to fix everything; at least, I wanted to fix everything that I could. I slowly walked towards them and stood in front of the tall blonde and hugged her. She froze for only a fraction of a second before hugging back as she tried to bite back the sobs. I didn't have any more tears to shed, and heck, I didn't even have the energy to blink. I pulled away after what seemed like hours later, but really, it was only minutes. I played with the burned seam of the scarf as I remembered him.

The Broken clock is a comfort.

I guess everybody lost today. Serena lost a best friend and a protector she loved to hate and drink with. Nate lost his only best friend. Bart Bass lost great son who he never really knew. Eric lost a friend he considered as a brother. Gossip Girl lost one of her favorite people to gossip about. And I know you're asking what did Blair Waldorf lose?

I lost the man I loved. And do you know what the sad thing is?

The last sentence that I told him was, "You're an ass, Bass, and I hope you rot in hell."

A/N: So, what did you think? This is my very first CB fic. The song I used was Broken by Lifehouse. The lyrics aren't really in order, but yeah. It's a great song, listen to it. :) So, anyway, tell me what you think. I accept reviews no matter what kind they are. Whether they are flames or thanks. Lol. :D

Oh, and this copy is unbeta'd, so if there are a couple of mistakes, all I have to say is that, I'm only human. :)