A/N: salut all, this will probably be my last chapter for a little while…since I’ll be only écriture on the weekends now b/c school has started up (and I’m pretty busy this suivant weekend), AND I also now have acquired a beta-reader ;p…and so will have to wait to get back her edits and such, but I WILL be trying to get these chapters up as fast as I can, and I really do SO appreciate all of your reviews, especially those of toi who decide to go on and ON about what toi loved and why toi loved it! ;p toi guys are super awesome! =D
*I OWN NOTHING!
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Ch. 14—The Different Darkness
    It was dark. Darker than before. And nearing 1am. It may have not been in the best interests of Dan and Nate to go wandering around the Upper East Side in the deep of the night. Especially not in their attempts to find Brooklyn. But after Nate’s plus than overbearing nature towards Dan during their discussion with Chuck, he did not hesitate to comply when the Brooklyn native refused to take any vehicle but their own propelling feet. After all, he could not entirely blame Dan for not understanding how Chuck basse, bass worked. He probably still held a slight grudge over attempting to rendez-vous amoureux, date rape Jenny the précédant year.
    Jenny.
    He had NO idea what he was going to do with that situation. The petite had always been a good friend to him, and he to her. But he could have NEVER guessed in a million years, that she would have developed such….INTENSE…feelings for him. Okay, so maybe ‘intense’ was too strong of an adjective to use in this case, but even the idea of a crush was mindblowing. Sure, since ending things with Blair he had begun to notice how attractive he really was in the eyes of other women. But Jenny wasn’t a woman. She was a girl. She was…is…Dan’s sister. And he JUST moved in. The idea was preposterous. And he had no intention of fulfilling her wish liste to make him hers…he just didn’t want to hurt her. She was like the little sister he never knew he had. He didn’t want to lose her just because his amount of affection was on a completely different playing field than hers.
    How did everything become so complicated?
    “What are toi thinking about?” Dan’s words jolted Nate from his mind-numbing thoughts.
    He turned to him, watching the brown-eyed expression grow in curiosity. “Vanessa,” he lied. Bringing up Jenny again after admitting to being in l’amour with Vanessa would probably not be the wisest of choices. It would certainly confuse the undoubtedly middle-man.
    Dan nodded, with a small smile forming on his face. “So toi a dit toi l’amour her?”
    Nate’s eyes twinkled at the thought and he chuckled softly. “Yes, I did,” he said, satisfied with the truth.
    “I…I knew toi guys had something great coming, but I didn’t think…well, that toi were in this deep,” he said, seriously.
    “Sometimes it just hits you, toi know?”
    Dan looked towards him, accepting the gesture, but seemed a little doubtful.
    Nate could feel the tension building and just watched the steadily Lost face on his new found friend. “What is it?”
    “Ah…nothing, it’s nothing,” Dan waved his hand casually to shrug him off, but for once in his life Nate did not let it drop. He drained his confidence with his own piercing gaze. “Okay,” the Brooklyn boy admitted defeat. “It’s just….the two of you, toi and Vanessa, were hardly together. A few weeks at most, with SEVERAL complications in between,” he emphasized, widening his eyes.
    Now it was Nate’s turn to nod and remain silent.
    “I mean, how do toi find l’amour in all that?”
    Nate stopped walking, and Dan turned to look at him. “You were poor. Serena was rich. I had INTENSE feelings for her when she finally gave toi a shot. And I didn’t exactly back down from them…not at first. Your parents have a history, yours and Serena’s. toi were not exactly on her best friend’s ‘most approved’ list, and among many other things, a member of her inner cercle tried to rape your sister…”
    Jenny. Damn it. Why did I have to bring her up again?
    Fortunately for him, Dan had now turned oblivious at the mentioning of his own flesh and blood. Nate continued, “So…tell me, how long did it take toi to fall in l’amour with her?”
    Dan’s serious, eager expression turned into a wide genuine smile. “Point taken.”
    They resumed their walk, and for awhile Nate liked the comfortable silence they seemed to have fallen into. But he could not resist. He knew he did not have the right. Chuck had told him so tonight. He had sold his best friend’s rights to Dan Humphrey, even if it was not solidified yet.
    But old habits die hard.
    “You really shouldn’t have messed with Chuck tonight, Dan.”
    Those brown eyes widened again, and he tried hard not to laugh. “A-are toi serious?”
    “I am,” Nate said, completely serious.
    “Look, don’t take offense to this, man, but…why do toi care?”
    Nate’s eyes narrowed. “He was my best friend since way before anybody else even really mattered to me.”
    Dan rolled his eyes. “I know…‘pre Blair period’,” he said, mocking his own earlier comments, “I get it.”
    “No…no, toi don’t get it,” he said, halting again, “Chuck means a lot to me.”
    Dan’s eyes rose at this. “Then, why are toi fighting?”
    He didn’t respond at first, only letting out a bit of an aggravated sigh and beginning to walk again. “Just don’t mess with Chuck and Blair, okay? They’ve got a good thing going.”
    He might have laughed. Might have mocked. Might have responded incredulously about how that statement was even plus ridiculous than the ones Chuck had spoken himself earlier that evening. But somehow he just…got it. He didn’t understand them. Either of them. Chuck and Blair had always been this heinous, evil mystery…even if a part of him had unraveled one of the Devil’s layers a few weeks earlier in a jail cell. So maybe…just maybe, if he couldn’t understand either of them, in their guarded, bullying mass….maybe that meant, they could understand each other.
    He a dit nothing. And Nate was satisfied.
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    The door slammed behind him. It was dark. And empty. And it taunted him. Every misguided action. Every time he HADN’T gone to the police. Every time he surrendered to that looming figure that pulled him to the worst of consequences. They moved. They avoided things. He got a new partner. He learned a new trade. And he pulled his brother down with him. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. It was becoming harder and harder to tell himself that he was trying to do right. That he was the good guy. That he was the victim.
Kevin pulled the right sleeve of his chemise up, just above the elbow. He pressed down on the lightly colored skin. The bruises were fading. It had been a long time since he had last succumbed to Jason’s beatings.
    Too long.
    Leaning his head against the solid wood of the front door, he finally let the tears come. The screaming. The agony. He let it all out. It was not right to pretend everything was okay in front of everyone, when on the inside that was the farthest thing from the truth. He had wailed and thrown things and been forced to pay for his actions with the whip and the nails kept in the far corner of his brother’s room.
It was always the far corner of his brother’s room. No matter how often they moved. He trembled, just thinking about it. He wanted to call Vanessa, go to her and empty everything. He had never had someone to empty things to before, and he had hoped his first crush wouldn’t be the one to take on all the burdens…but there was no one else. And yet, he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her that she drove him to kidnap Blair Waldorf. Vanessa, in all her irritation towards the witty aristocrat, would NEVER wish this upon her. He was sure of it. And telling her…would not only cause guilt, it would involve her again.
No.
He wouldn’t do it.
He wouldn’t involve Vanessa Abrams.
It was probably even best not to speak to her again.
As long as she stayed away from that Diner…she would be safe.
But it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t enough knowing he’d saved the one person to give him hope in his life of forced pressure and violent abuse.
He had kidnapped someone.
An innocent, beautiful girl…who par the looks of it had not been having the greatest jour of her eighteen years. Being kidnapped par a fourteen an old surely wouldn’t have improved anything. So, he paced. He paced and cried and screamed for what seemed like hours. He hadn’t been alone in so long. Not par himself. His brother didn’t trust him. And he didn’t trust the ‘highly respected’ partners he kept on bringing home. He never let anyone in, afraid that they would get caught up into the mess that was his life. And afraid of the rejection that would follow…either before ou after the realization of his true identity. The result was a bottled up boy, desiring escape, but doubtful that it would ever come.
No fourteen an old should have to live like this.
    “I’m sorry Blair Waldorf…”
    “I’m sorry Vanessa…”
    “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”
The wetness consumed his face, and soon his cries dissolved into wimpers…and then nothing at all.
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    “Shut up!!!!” the sound echoed throughout the rusting room, so much that even the pipes on the opposite end began to rattle.
    She shivered. It was cold. And she was tired. And lost—no scratch that-- KIDNAPPED. How in the world Blair Waldorf had gotten kidnapped…she would never know. And par an adolescent no less! She must’ve been really caught up in her thoughts…and needless to say, she was planning on NOT EVER journeying to Brooklyn again…if she could help it. It was OBVIOUSLY too dangerous for pristine beauties like herself.
    But now she could not think of how to manipulate. ou chienne at whoever the hell this idiot was. ou even try to escape this death pit.
    She was exhausted.
    And emotionally broken.
    And he had slapped her.
    In her silent reverie, Blair had still become very aware of the change in touch. The boy that had captured her…he had been gentle, and regretful…she could tell, par the tears he left on the back of her neck. And he had apologized. plus than once. She had kicked and screamed, and he had held her tight enough to him so she wouldn’t get away. But only just.
    He did not want to do this. It was not something she had to question.
    Of course, this was only in retrospect. In the moment, she had shown no mercy. And hardly noticed when the gentle boy handed her over to a rougher, older fellow. A man montrer her the regard that she had shown his middle man.
    Her movements had slowed, and his voice had risen. Now she was strapped to a rickety old wooden chair. Firm enough that it wouldn’t break, yet damaged enough that it could not possibly be comfortable. canard tape stretched around her wrists and ankles onto the chair, and she remained silent.
    And he told her to be quiet. Over and over.
    And she always was, minus her original screams.
    But he kept yelling at her. Trying to silence the quiet whispers that must have been running through his mind. He was clearly troubled.
    So, he slapped her.
    He kicked her.
    He punched her in the face.
    More than once.
    Multiple times.
    “Speak,” he spat, pulling out a plus comfortable chair, so as to sit straight across from her.
    Bloody lipped, bruised face, scratched arms, she stared at him. She only stared. It was difficult to breathe.
    “Speak woman!” his voice was rising again.
    “What do toi want?!” she choked out, spit rising in her throat.
    Now, he laughed, murmuring nonsense, hardly audible to anyone but himself, and her own senses had grown numb. He fumed at her though, that she noticed. He forced himself closer to her, so that their face were only inches apart…and after this heure long assault, she hardly had the energy to pull her face away.
    “Tell me what toi know about Chuck Bass.”
    Her eyes widened then, as much as they could, and she found herself reeling back. Like his name alone had woken her up from the darkness. Had caused her senses a seconde wind. Had made her mental clarity something to fight for her again.
    She felt his face moving away slightly, yet waiting in suspense to hear what she would say.
    Still, she a dit nothing.
    “Let’s make this easy for me, princess.”
    She blinked slowly, and he gripped a hold of her wrists tightly. She winced in the pain of his dirty nails clutched against her fragile skin.
    “If toi tell me…I’ll let toi go. No strings attached.”
    Her nose flared and her eyes could have killed him on the spot. Had they had the power to shoot flames.
    “Never,” she spat, sending the fluid gathered in her mouth across his rough skinned face.
    So, he slapped her again.
    And interrogated her, until she had no will left.
    But she was silent. Only a gasp escaped her.
    She would say no word against Chuck. None to his favor. Not even what he meant to her.
    And so, Jason stalked across the room. He paced, trying to come up with a plan, it looked like. He had had testy victims before, but never one so entirely stubborn after the beatings. She looked like crap after what he had done to her. But he never ended a session without answers, and so he returned to standing in front of her.
    Looming over, he almost whispered, “I could rape you.”
    Her eyes did not meet his, but stayed glued to the ground. “You wouldn’t.”
    “I’ve done it before…to other girls,” he said, almost too casually. “Girls much plus cooperative than toi have been.”
    Still, she did not meet his gaze.
    “I’m not like other girls.”
    He scoffed at this.
    “If toi had gotten me kidnapped to rape me, toi would have done it already.”
    He was silent. And she was truly scared he would hit her again, but her body had reacted accordingly before… she knew she would survive.
    At least for a little while longer.
    He paced again. Only a few feet in front of her this time.
    She blinked slowly.
    “How long have toi two been together?”
    She blinked.
    “Are toi just friends?”
    Her eyes stayed closed.
    “Is he good in bed?” he laughed at this one.
    She still a dit nothing.
    “Do toi l’amour him?”
    Her breath hitched, and a single tear rolled down the side of her face. It was the first real emotion he’d seen out of her since she’d brought in par his pathetic little brother.
    “Ah…” he said, knowingly.
    And she cried, desperately trying to muffle the tears…but finding it near impossible without the use of her hands. She bit her bottom lip, hoping it would do something…but it only caused some blood to draw…and she cried harder. Not for her physical pain, but for her inability to conceal her biggest weakness.
    He smirked, sitting in the chair across from her again, this time crossing one leg over the other in a satisfied position. He slinked back, and watched her suffering in her pitiful agony. He had gotten his answer. And it wouldn’t be the first one.
    Yes. toi will tell me. toi will tell me…everything.
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A/N: Please review!!! =DDDDDD I know this one was pretty angsty, but it was shorter and I’m hoping toi still appreciated it. ;) Heh.
Don’t forget to vote on the vote on my profile! =DDDDDDDDD