'Home; this will always be my home'.

"So, Miss Waldorf." The interviewer crossed his legs, regarding the young woman before him. She was as perfectly poised in the flesh as she was in all her photos - dark, glossy locks, tapered black pants, cream Valentino blouse and gold blazer, deep red heels. In fact she was downright intimidating. "Now that you've graduated Columbia, what are your plans for the summer?"

She arched one perfectly shaped brow. "I'm spending the summer in the Hamptons."

"With anyone in particular?"

She flashed her teeth at him. "With friends."

What the journalist was itching to ask, of course, was if friends included Chuck Bass. But she'd been very clear beforehand - no questions about her two year relationship with the young billionaire. "Well," he restrained himself, "It sounds like you deserve the break. And once you get back, you'll be taking over Waldorf Designs officially?"

"Yes."

"What are your plans for the company?"

"To carry on my mother's work," she responded smoothly. "To ensure that only the highest standards of fashion are maintained throughout."

If she was nervous about taking charge of such a prestigious brand at just twenty-one, the journalist refelected, she definitely didn't look it. "Do you think your mother would be proud, if she could see you now?"

There was a moment's pause while she pursed her lips, eyes dark and serious. And then, finally, "I hope so."

It was late afternoon, and the Bleaker coffee shop was half empty because NYU had already broken up for summer vaccation. And as he picked his way through the groups of coffee-drinking, scarf-wearing (it was summer, for Christ's sake), scruffy-haired hipsters, thick black glasses and all, Carter Baizen was decidedly out of place. But so was the red-head currently draped in one of the booths. She was taller than most of the people in the room even sitting down, and her bottle of mineral water was most decidedly not an esspresso. Espresso would have lent her far too much energy.

Carter dropped into the seat next to her; she glanced up with that idle smile, suprised to see him. "Carter. What are you doing here?"

"I saw you had a lunch date with Humphrey," he shrugged. "Thought I'd come and rescue you."

"Mm. Oh, it wasn't a date." She waved a hand. "Dan was showing me his book." She brightened a little as she remembered, holding it up. Carter made out the title - 'Inside' - and repressed a snort. "It's about me, you know." She sounded quite pleased. "Although, I've been trying to read it, and...well, it's actually a little dull. And," she shuddered, "He changed my name to Trish. Can you imagine?"

"He is from Brooklyn." Carter spared the book another glance. Who the hell had Humphrey even got to publish the trash? "So what does he say about you?"

"He says I'm beautiful, of course...and something about a modern-day Marie Antionette." She released a sigh. "What does that mean, anyway?"

"That Humphreys a pretentious moron," Carter responded shortly. Tish raised her eyebrows at him. "Why," Carter enquired, "Are you even still wasting your time with him?"

"I like him," Tish mused. "He has no social skills, of course...and despite all my best efforts, he still has yet to get laid." She paused a moment, genuinely saddened by this. "But you know, it's quite fun pretending to be clever when he goes on about his little books. Sometimes it's rather amusing to not be stupid."

Carter rolled his eyes. "You're not stupid."

"Oh, I am," she sighed. "They're throwing me out of Cambridge. I'm getting 'sent down', apparently. Daddy says there's only so many times you can repeat the year...and I've used them all up." She flicked her hair over her shoulder, tossing the book down. "It's such an inconvenience," she complained. "Though I suppose now I'll just have to marry Maxxie."

"And why are you still wasting your time on him?" Carter murmured as his fingers indolently traced hers on the table.

Her green eyes widened in faint surprise. "Darling, I belong with Maxxie. Our parents have been planning this for years. I couldn't possibly ruin all those business deals - you know that."

"No one belongs with anyone," Carter scoffed back.

"Hmm," Tish reflected, cocking her head. "Your sister belongs with Chuck."

Carter just scowled. (But he didn't contradict her.) "I think you and I both know you can do better than Maxxie," he drawled instead. He moved his face a little closer, regarding her. "It's not like you'd settle for Cava just because your parents wanted you to."

The thought appalled her. "Well, of course not." He raised a pointed brow; she looked at him for a moment, and then made a noise of impatience. "Darling, I don't understand. You know how this works. You can't seriously be suggesting-"

He slanted his lips over hers to cut her off. She kissed him back, that large familiar idle mouth, her kisses hungry and langurous as ever. Then she moaned, reluctantly parting their mouths. "You know we're entirely unsuitable, darling." He kissed her again. "And daddy will kill me if I bring home a yank."

He kissed her again to shut her up.

Chuck was running through the last details of a business deal with his father. He'd invested his own shares for his newest project - he wanted to buy a new hotel. His own one. He'd been in negotiations with the current owner of said hotel all morning, and it looked like he was one step closer to procuring the Empire for Bass Industries. If it all went to plan, then he could start the real work in September. For now, though, Bart had given him a month's vaccation. And once this final meeting was over, he intended to put it to very good use.

"Well," Bart glanced up from the sheaf of papers. "This looks like it's all in order." He nodded at his son, brisk. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Chuck said in surprise. He'd been so sure his father would find something wrong with the proposal - he'd come to the office more than ready to defend himself. In fact, he hadn't had a real disagreement with Bart in quite some time. It was almost as though the old man was starting to trust him.

Bart paused for a moment. "I meant to say. Your mother's coming home tonight."

And there it was, the edge of tension that crept back into both of them. Chuck shrugged it off. "I'm leaving this afternoon."

"I'll pass the message on."

Silence followed for a few seconds. "How long is she staying in New York?" Chuck asked at last.

"Just a few weeks." Evelyn was living almost full-time in Rome now; she and Bart were technically still married, but the rumours of their separation had long spread across the Upper East Side. They weren't really rumours any more. "I'm sure she'd appreciate seeing you once."

Chuck just snorted. "I'll try." He didn't really bother to sound like he meant it. He was already heading for the door.

"Chuck."

Chuck turned to see a slightly odd look on his father's face - he stopped, obediently. "What is it?"

Bart exhaled. "You asked me once how I managed to convince your mother not to go to the board with that...secret. Just after she left for the Dominican Republic."

Chuck remembered. His father had never answered him, not really. "You just said you'd handled it."

"Yes," his father sighed.

Chuck gave him a quizzical look. "I assumed you had something on her?"

Bart's face twisted for a moment. "Your mother is far too careful to ever give me any information to hold against her."

"Then what?" Chuck frowned. "Did you bribe her?" He didn't really understand where the man was going with any of this.

"I didn't have to," Bart told him brusquely. "I just pointed out the possible consequences of her actions." Chuck was still looking at him in confusion. Bart sighed again, weary. "I told her she risked losing you. Forever."

Chuck waited for him to go on. He didn't. Chuck just stared at him. "What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying." Bart rose to his feet. "I'll see you in a few weeks - I hope that you have a good break."

Chuck was left alone in the room, head reeling. He wasn't entirely sure he could process what he'd just been told. Evelyn had agreed not to destroy Bart purely because...she might lose him? Bart had to be mistaken. He had to. Was it possible that his mother did care for him? At all? Some distant part of his brain registered that he needed to talk to Blair about this. Blair would help him make sense of it.

But he had time, he knew. He had Blair. And really, that was all that mattered.

Blair had changed from her interview clothes and into a much more fitting strappy summer dress. Her bags were packed and waiting in the foyer, and her toe tapped the sidewalk impatiently as she scanned the street. He'd said he would be here -

And then the purr of an engine filled her ears as a sleek limo pulled up next to her.

She folded her arms as the tinted window was rolled down. "You're late."

An aggravating tilt of those dark eyes over his sunglasses. "Maybe I had to stop to pick up a little something along the way."

"Like what?" she demanded - but her heart was already thumping eagerly, because she loved little somethings. Especually when they came from him.

He smirked at her. "Why don't you get in and see?"

"It had better be good," she warned as she opened the car door.

A grip caught hers, and in one movement he'd tugged her into the leather interior and onto his lap, hands finding her waist. "Oh, it is." He was kissing her before she could protest, lips seeking her neck and that smirk buried in her skin.

"You liar!" she tried and failed to protest, breath catching in her throat and hands twining in his hair of their own accord. "You didn't get me a present at all!"

In answer, he smugly raised a bottle of her favourite Dom. "I told you it was a little something." His hands slid up under her summer dress, mouth finding hers once more. "So I wasn't talking about myself..."

She moaned, faintly, as his tongue traced her collar bone. "Bass-"

"And there may be a box of macaroons somewhere for the journey," he murmured against her. "Just in case we need...replenishing."

Blair gave up pretending to protest as his mouth travelled lower down and his fingers reached a certain spot above her underwear. She decided to devote her enegry to the far more useful task of undoing his shirt buttons instead. "Well, it has been five hours."

In the front of the car, Arthur double checked that the dividing screen was firmly closed. It looked like it was going to be a long drive to the Hamptons.

A/N - So, this fic is finally finished! Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with it for so long - I hope the ending didn't disappoint. Sorry the epilogue's a little shorter! Thank you also for all your lovely reviews - they've all been so wonderful to read :)