And then too, if you take off the shipper glasses for a second, there's a symmetry here I wasn't really conscious of the first time, which is -- in my memory at least -- how that awful incident was composed left-to-right, with Blair nearer the door and he throws her on the couch and it's so terribly gross and claustrophobic that you get scared. I could go and check, but I'm fairly certain that conversation started with similar staring, and similar "We need to talk" stuff going on. And he lost it, and it was shameful for everybody.
And now we're in a perpendicular space, with him on the left in the background and we're mostly standing with Blair near the door again, but the house is like this mouth swallowing him up (the camera even backs away from him once she's gone). So visually you have them in this sweaty awful tiger cage, which is now a lonely open space, right-to-left, and she's handing him the next step in getting rid of him -- the Window Incident was also about her telling him, about the engagement that time, before anybody else could -- and I don't know.
I think she knew he might have it in him to attack her again, which is why she stays far away -- opens with her pregnancy, even -- and I don't think it changes either of them -- or their relationship, or what he did -- but her motives were the same in both cases: To save him, without sacrificing herself. To show him kindness and respect that he doesn't deserve, in the name of their history and how much she loved and loves him, even while her story is continuing, and his has stopped.
"Rolling In The Deep" is such an everywhere song that maybe the words don't mean anything anymore, but I always thought the saddest thing about it, at the bar mitzvah, was how literal it was: "The scars of your love remind me of us/ They keep me thinking that we almost had it all... I can't help feeling we could have had it all." And you have the obvious "scar" there, but then too there was that Chinatown thing where the scar on her cheek was this sign of something truly terrible inside of her that she kept trying to hide, became part of Sophie's judgment of her without ever knowing where it came from or what it meant...
I just feel like the respect she has shown him, before the window to right now, is one of the best things about her, because it's entirely about her. Compassion isn't something you can ask for, or demand: It's for us to give. It's a gift that we're able to give it. And I think that's so much stronger than the other ways she tries or might try to stay away from the stuff that could damage her, or the sternly Blair ways she does most things. Compassion isn't about what Chuck deserves, because he doesn't deserve it, because it's not something you can deserve. It's something that arises out of you, and represents your negotiation with the difficulties of life. The depth of your own spirit.