Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

Disclaimer: chapter titles belong to Taking Back Sunday ("You Know How I Do"). give it a listen, if that's your thing

A/N: haven't actually watched Gossip Girl in about three months or so, but I managed to catch this epi, and kind of like the idea of these two so this is my attempt. It's kind of rushed and i have no beta so forgive any errors.

duplicity.

She awakes to the taste of something bitter in her mouth.

Vanessa licks her dry lips as she struggles to figure out where, exactly, she is.

The room is unfamiliar; the sheets are too soft, the air is too warm, and she can't recall much of anything from last night. She's surprised by the cool fingertips resting against her skin, wondering why it is that she feels so flushed, amazed that not even the best cup of coffee has ever gotten her this heated.

Her eyes land on the thin purple material lying so innocently in the middle of the floor, and it is then that Vanessa remembers just enough of last night's details to make her feel uneasy.

God.

"Damn it," she mutters to herself.

She's trying to remember what the hell she was thinking exactly, how she could have possibly managed to rationalize in her mind that sleeping with him was a good idea. That it would help anything. That it would change anything.

She slides over to the edge of the bed, hesitant about her decision, not quite as ready to go as she thought she would be, not sure she wants to leave him behind just yet.

He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain.

Obviously, cutting him out of her life would be the smart thing to do; it would certainly make her life easier, simpler. Vanessa just doesn't think that's what she wants anymore.

She can feel herself ripping in two. Mentally, it's exhausting. One half of her enjoys this world she's gotten herself tangled up in, can now understand and empathize with the cutthroat bitchiness of the Upper East Side. The other half is afraid of what this might turn her into, is tentative and hesitant about looking head-on into a mirror.

She has gotten a taste of what it feels like to actually get what she wants, and she thinks she likes it.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

Dan's self-righteousness has always annoyed her on some level; she just never actually realized how much until now, as he plants himself in between her and Chuck Bass. He thinks somehow that he's helping her, being the Brooklyn knight in shining armor that she'd like to think she doesn't need. She can handle this.

"I do." She looks past Dan and over his shoulder to Chuck, waiting idle at his limo parked on the curb. It still stands out amongst the faded buildings and crumbling sidewalks, but Vanessa finds that she doesn't mind it as much anymore.

"Vanessa—"

"Dan. I can handle this, trust me. Go home." She doesn't mean to snap at him, not really. But she feels herself growing anxious, although that might have more to do with Chuck's furrowed brow and frustrated frown than anything else.

"Fine. Do what you want, Vanessa. I'm not gonna stop you."

"Dan..." But her attempt to stop him is halfhearted at best and by the time she even takes one step forward, Dan is already halfway down the block and hailing a cab.

Vanessa doesn't notice Chuck come up behind her; she flinches slightly when he puts his cool hand on her back, his palm meeting her skin. "You coming?"

She nods. "Yes, of course."

"...Going so soon?"

"I wasn't planning on staying." She's snapping at him, can't figure when she's ever been this angry at another human being.

She's frustrated because she can't get her shoe on, can't even locate the other one. But mostly, her angers stems from his phone call with Blair, not fifteen minutes ago.

"I can't do this anymore."

They've had this conversation before. How many times, exactly, she's not completely sure of, but she knows this line, has put on this performance of faux strength and willpower. She feels herself tripping over sensations of déjà vu, feet unable to keep steady as she tries in vain to avoid the inevitable route this conversation will take. Next, she will tell him all the reasons why she doesn't need him, why he will only make her worse for being in his presence.

"Don't play the victim card; it doesn't suit you. You need this as much—"

"I don't need anything from you."

"Sure you don't."

"I don't. You're the one who thought this up. You're the one who doesn't have the balls to—"

"To do what?"

He smirks, like he always does, and pulls her toward him by tugging roughly on her dress. "This?" His mouth hovers over her ear, slides to her neck. "I can do this very well."

"Bastard," she mumbles, but her heart isn't in it. Neither is her mind, really.

If that were true, she wouldn't be here. If she really hated him, she would pull herself out of this mess, and extricate herself from the whole damn thing completely.

But, she doesn't think that's what she wants anymore.

Although, if she were being honest, Vanessa doesn't know what she wants anymore.