I don't own anything. Criticism and reviews are always appreciated:D

A/N: Because I found myself thinking 'If this was a film x and y and z would happen'. I have an idea for at least one more but if I find the time and energy I might look for moments in some of the earlier series (basically this is also a less than subtle hint that if a passage has prompted such an idea in you I'd love to hear about it:P).

Vanessa, end of 4x05

You're not the romantic type, sappy clichés used too many times don't do anything for you and yet… as you turn around and walk slowly towards the door, bags in hand, you can't help but think wistfully to yourself: 'If my life was a movie this is when you'd stop me'. You would never admit it to yourself but maybe, unconsciously, you walk that little bit slower to give him a chance to say 'Don't go' or 'I love you, don't leave' or 'Wait' or even just grab your arm. You'd kiss and talk and spend the weekend in bed living on love only. You'd celebrate you finally overcame all the obstacles and it would be cue for happily ever after.

Of course he does none of those things because your life is not some silly romcom and you're not meant to want that anyway because you're tough and independent and want more from life than a flashy surface and canned love for the masses… but who are you kidding you do a little just the same. You try to chastise yourself, tell yourself that you're better off without that guy who's so quick to judge and who has so easily forgotten all those times that he messed up and you took him back but for once you don't care if you're in the right because what's the point in having truth on your side when you feel like you've lost everything anyway. You wonder why if you're so tough you gave in to the 'I love you' every time. (You also wonder even if he had stopped you would it finally be enough or would Serena come back to haunt you before you've had time to unpack yet again? But you don't wonder that because if your life had been a movie you would have been enough).

It's when you sit on the bus to Vermont, looking out the window observing people as you're wont to do you realise you've started crying. And it's not because he didn't come running, stopping the bus a love declaration in hand, but here you are once again running away with your tail between your legs and how did you ever get here? Your ticket has been bought by the principles you've cashed in too many times in the last few years: a videotape, a photo, a letter, a lie, a speech, a phone. Blackmail and scheming; for revenge, for love. Whatever the goal has been by the time you get there you've lost sight of it, one thing you know: it always ends in tears and they tend to be yours. And you'd hate to be considered whiny but isn't it unfair that every time you slip for a second you become an object of scorn, the outcast while they all receive immediate pardon? (You know that's not the whole truth but you've never been very forgiving of the Upper East Side and right now you feel less forgiving than ever).

At least you dealt very maturely with the goodbye; said what needed to be said, apologised. It's not much to be proud of but you'd like to think that no matter what mistakes you've made along the way as long as you'll admit to them in the end you have a chance of growing. Have a chance of one day becoming the person you used to think you were and that you're now striving to become. You'd like to think that all these tears and knockdowns are there to teach you a lesson, because maybe you used to think (unconsciously) of the world in black and white, maybe you used to think there was only one answer but if anything you've learnt that you too can make mistakes.

As these thoughts whirl through your head you can't help a wry smile because you can't help thinking that from your perspective as an artist life as it has turned out for you would appeal to you more than the happy ending you're longing for right now. You can't help but notice the irony.

The thing is you know you're not two-dimensional enough to fit in a romcom or any film for that matter. You tried playing a part once before and it didn't work because as soon as you started acting you weren't you anymore and back then Dan really did want you and whatever it was you had to offer. You can't help but wonder if he had stopped you now would you have accepted the happily ever after offered, because what's the point in 'and they lived happily ever after' if you have give up part of yourself to get there? For wouldn't the real you still want to discuss things, talk things over, question the supposedly happy ending? Because the thing is you don't believe in stand-alone romantic gestures, they're fleeting and once the glow of the moment fades there's reality to deal with and whatever anyone may think of love conquering everything you can't shut out the world. You've got to be sensible and realistic about things; a relationship is not a one-time thing but an ongoing commitment it won't last unless you work at it.

You dry the tears away then. Because even if it hurts and even if you would secretly would have loved for things to be solved as if by magic just this once you know deep down that maybe it's for the best. Your life is not a film and actually you wouldn't want it to be, not really.