Guilty Until Proven Innocent

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Summary: Recently released from prison for a crime she didn't commit, Elena returns to Mystic Falls to clear her name to the people who matter, one of whom includes a blue eyed, raven haired man who once stole her heart, but will he listen to her after believing for two years she was the sole reason his family fell apart? DE. Angst aplenty.

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Chapter 7

We Hit A Wall And We Can't Get Over It

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"So, Elena, tell me a little something about yourself."

Elena inhaled sharply, breathing out through her nose to steady her nerves.

"I don't want to be here," she began shortly. "I just thought I'd make that clear."

Lexie Branson leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other, studying the woman before her, and then smiled.

"No one wants to come here, Elena. There's such a stigma about therapy that it's almost ironic. People want help, but they don't like where they have to go to get it. They don't like the idea of opening themselves up to be examined by essentially a stranger, so they avoid the whole process. That's why I try and get to know the people I help by acting like we've just started off being friends. Therapy is a clinical word that people automatically distrust, which is why I avoid using it." She made a face. "Except I've used it twice now...my bad."

Elena couldn't help but smile.

Lexie Branson's office was the classic therapist's office, complete with a desk and a leather couch decorated with a few cushions. The wallpaper was a pale yellow, almost a sickly shade of white, and there were bookcases with, surprisingly, the latest young adult reads, none of those psychology textbooks you would usually expect. The Fault In Our Stars currently lay in front of Lexie herself, a bookmark placed in the middle, the outside edges creased, the spine worn, which told Elena this was her favourite book, and she wasn't quite sure what that told her, only that it made her feel like this was some sort of set up, a place designed to make her feel comfortable while the questions did exactly the opposite.

Lexie herself wasn't the sort of person you'd expect to be a counsellor, in the sense she seemed to radiate energy, something the textbook therapist never seemed to be in television shows, films and books. She had blonde hair, which fell just past her shoulder, with some darker streaks layering the underneath; her eyes were this very vivacious green, always sparkling for some damn reason, and she dressed quite casually, clad in a short leather jacket, white top, and skinny jeans, very much the typical outfit for someone who was, say, going out with her friends in town, not remaining behind a desk listening to someone else's woes.

"I don't get your deal," she said tightly.

"My deal?" Lexie frowned.

"I don't typically trust people whose methods of fixing people," Elena spoke those words through gritted teeth, conveying her displeasure at this whole atmosphere, this whole set up, "involve befriending them. It's essentially a lie, and I don't like liars."

"What was the last lie you told?"

Elena blinked. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Just curious," Lexie spoke, grinning like she was in on a private joke no one else would ever know. "You don't have to answer it."

"I don't feel the need to answer it. I've told my share of lies but being a liar is something different entirely."

"How so?"

"Liars base their whole lives on lying. They depend on it. They lie to hide the person they really are and they have no qualms lying for the rest of their lives if it serves their own interests. The rest of us lie because it's convenient, and usually nothing catastrophic comes from telling white lies. There's nothing sinister underneath that would shatter your entire image if the truth were to come out."

"True," Lexie conceded, much to Elena's surprise. "But then, wouldn't you argue that by the very definition everyone who liars could be classed as a liar, regardless of their intentions?"

"Intention is everything," Elena stated firmly. "Everything you mean to do, everything you mean to say, reveals a lot about who you are."

"Lies have obviously played a big part in bringing you here today, and they've made you distrustful and closed off from the world," Lexie observed.

"Didn't need to be a shrink to notice that," Elena shot at her.

"Maybe not, but you came here voluntarily, Elena. Let's dispense with the word 'shrink'. I'm not your enemy, Elena. I just want to help you help yourself."

Elena glanced down at her own hands, instantly flushed like she'd been severely scolded.

Lexie leaned over her desk, looking for the first time slightly disconcerted, her hands clasped in front of her.

"How about we start from the top?" she suggested. "If you want to forget about the getting-to-know-you part of the session, and you're not the first individual eager to skip over that part, then why don't you tell me, in your own words, what brought you here to my office today?"

Elena shook her head. "I thought I was ready to talk about it, but I don't think I am." She glanced at the copy of The Fault In Our Stars, a question of our own on her lips. "Why do you like that book? It's depressing as fuck."

Lexie smiled. "It is a tad, but it keeps me grounded. I've never lost anyone I've loved. I've never gone through any kind of trauma. Sometimes I think the only thing that qualifies anyone to be a therapist is if you can relate to even a fraction of the pain people go through. I can't. But I wanted to do this because I wanted to help people. It's in my nature. So I read books that are all about the issues I try and help people through. Text books only capture a fragment of how people really feel about the darkest parts of life, and mostly it's based on guess work, and on studying people's behaviour, which is all well and good until you realise not every person reacts the same to every situation; literature, I've found, covers a hell of a lot more – in fiction no less – of what pain feels like than any textbook ever printed. For starters, textbooks treat every person like a case not an individual, and secondly, reading literature immediately ties you with the characters, gets you to connect with them in a way psychology courses never can. It's not technically a professional method of tackling therapy, but how can you try and talk to someone with deep emotional wounds if you've never had any yourself?"

Elena gave a small sliver of a smile. "You're not like the therapist I had in prison. She was much more to the point and, ironically, a lot less honest than you seem to be."

"Good. That's my aim. To be less clinical and more...spontaneous with the advice I give," Lexie said, with a friendly wink that caught Elena off guard. "Now this is the part of the session where I give you fifteen minutes of uninterrupted time to talk, because I often find the best way to start getting people talking is to give them a stage and hand them a microphone...figuratively speaking of course. So I'm going to start with a very basic question, and it might sound simple but you'll find it coaxes you to try and connect with the deepest issues which are troubling you. What brought you to this office today?"

"Long answer or short answer?"

"Always the long answer."

Elena sighed heavily.

"I was sick of lying to myself," she admitted. "Coming back home was supposed to do..." she gestured uselessly, "...something. Fix me. I don't know. Instead it just seems to have made me question everything." She peered at Lexie through hooded eyes. "You're right in believing a lie destroyed my life, but is it technically a lie if I don't know what the truth even is? How can you believe wholeheartedly that something's a lie if everyone else believes it's true? Even if there's proof you can't possibly refute even knowing it's impossible? How do you go about debunking a lie that everybody else seems perfectly content to believe? What does that even say about me that they found it plausible to believe I'd done what I'd done?

"I kind of have to admit I'm here for a selfish reason. This is the one spot in town free from judging eyes, so maybe I'm more here for sanctuary than actual help, but perhaps you can't get one and escape the other..." She was aware she was rambling, so she cut herself short, changing to the next train of thought. "I came back home for one reason: vindication. I wanted to prove my innocence, and have all those who'd believed I was capable of criminal activities proven wrong. I needed that vindication to erase the past, but now I'm starting to realise what's done is done. I won't get those two years back. So I'm kind of lost right now. That's why I'm here."

Elena looked at her through hooded eyes before concluding solemnly, "You asked earlier what the last lie I told was... It was the day I got released, when I told myself things would be okay. What a big fat lie that turned out to be."

"You know, that isn't necessary a lie. It's something we all need to tell ourselves at some point during the day, and maybe that goes back to your point about people lying because it's convenient. Maybe it's necessary sometimes to lie to ourselves. It's not always the healthiest option, but I have seen person after person sitting where you are, convinced they aren't good enough in some way, convinced they are broken beyond repair, or just beyond help of any description. Everyone at some point believes they won't ever be okay again, but in the majority of cases they find a way to be okay again. Sometimes it just takes a little bit of soul searching."

Elena fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"I'm done," she said, after a moment of contemplation. "I appreciate your time, but coming here isn't going to fix anything."

And without another word, she rose to her feet, ignoring Lexie's protests, and walked out of the door.

Therapy was all well and good... providing you knew exactly what was wrong. There was a plethora of problems Elena couldn't even begin to dissect. She could talk about her childhood, or the death of her parents, or Damon's betrayal, but ultimately talking would solve nothing. She would just have to live her life in the remnants of the disaster which had consumed every part of her, and attempt to rebuild a future of sorts.

She wasn't stupid enough to believe she could ever find a home in Mystic Falls, but she needed money, and she needed the confidence to start anew. Until she had both, she would have to stay amongst the sea of distrusting faces and cruel whispers, and maybe that was the price she would have to pay for her future happiness.

All the same, she couldn't help but think about the fact that maybe what she really was paying for was the fact she'd been stupid to fall in love with her best friend.

Rookie mistake.

Despite the mountain of literature and films which said falling in love with your best friend was the best feeling life could ever produce, it turned out they were all wrong because it gave you so much more to lose if and when things turned sour. When they did, you were left with nothing, and rather than experiencing the highest end of the spectrum of emotions, you were left enduring the worst.

Falling in love is one sin.

Falling for your best friend is another altogether, and yet still she couldn't quite bring herself to regret it. Not entirely anyway.

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"You voluntarily went to therapy?" Jeremy shook his head. "That's messed up."

Elena gave her brother the dirtiest look she could muster.

"I had to do something, Jer. I can't be bitter my whole life, despite the fact frankly I have every right to. It'll turn me into a premature spinster."

"That's a look that suits you, I think: the premature spinster," Jeremy teased.

She threw the remainder of her lunch at him.

"You suck," she declared, but she was smiling all the same.

They had elected to go to the Grill to catch up, and had chosen a table away from all the curious – and sometimes hostile – eyes – but she still felt like she was being watched. She supposed that's what you got when you were the newest piece of gossip: all eyes on you, and a diminishing sense of privacy.

"So what you gonna do now?" Jeremy asked, concerned.

She shrugged.

"Find a part time job with someone who doesn't think I'm scum of the earth? I don't know. A relationship is off the cards – maybe forever. I just can't trust anyone but myself and you and Jenna right now. I guess the plan here is to actually make a long term plan."

"You know the Johnsons up in Denver have a spare room since their daughter went to college, you could go stay with them if you wanted to get out of here," Jeremy suggested. "I just hate to think of you living your life here in misery just because it's a familiar place. Home is wherever you want it to be."

She gripped his hand, moved by his words.

"Thanks, Jer," she said softly. "I'll be okay for now though."

"Well, well, well," came a voice Elena never thought she would hear again. "If it isn't Elena Gilbert, Mystic Falls' own troublemaker."

Jeremy stiffened, anticipating some sort of trouble, instantly preparing himself to defend his sister's honour, but he glanced in Elena's direction and was surprised to see her smiling widely.

Elena craned her neck to see a well dressed blonde woman standing above her, her arms folded, wearing a peevish expression. Her smile only grew wider at the sight of the familiar figure in front of her and she rose to her feet, arms outstretched.

"Rebekah," she exclaimed excitedly. "How...?"

"...am I here?" Rebekah finished. "Glad you asked. I've recently moved into town with my brothers. I believe you met one of them the other day. Elijah?"

Elena looked astounded. "That was your Elijah?"

"Uh-huh?" Rebekah looked at her critically. "When were you released?"

"A couple of days ago," Elena replied, before turning to her confused brother and adding, "Rebekah was my cell mate."

"You must be Jeremy," Rebekah said, peering critically at him. "I can see the family resemblance, by which I mean the broody eyes and the overgrown hair."

Jeremy, almost with alarm, ran a hand through his hair, as if checking the accuracy of her observation, and then narrowed his eyes, not entirely sure what to make of her.

"Pleased to meet you."

"Before you ask – although I'm sure you are too boringly polite to do so – I was in for arson." Rebekah gave a half shrug. "Might've burned my ex-boyfriend's house to the ground, and he might've pressed charges."

Jeremy's eyes bugged out at that information. "What did he do?"

"He cheated on me with a girl half my size. His loss," Rebekah reported, with a casual flick of her hair. "Most girls would've cried their hearts out. I didn't – I got even. He burned my trust; I burned his house – fair deal. Both are rather indispensable in the grand scheme of things, don't you think?"

Elena grinned. "The stories Rebekah told me kept me sane, Jer, I swear to god. She's a free spirit and crazy to boot."

Rebekah smirked. "Gotta be a little crazy to endure this crazy world." She rounded on Elena, glaring at her. "Where was my damn phone call anyway?"

"I was getting round to making it, honestly. I've just been...preoccupied."

"Preoccupied avoiding a certain individual by any chance?"

"You got me," she admitted.

"We call him The-Douche-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in our house," Jeremy responded, to which Rebekah responded with a shrill laugh.

"Oh my god, that is perfect," she declared, smirking. "I had my own nickname for him but," she cast her eyes around the Grill, "I am aware I'm in a public place and there could be children listening, so I won't say it. I'm sure you can guess the colourful name I gave him anyway. Hardly an imaginative creation on my part."

There was still a microscopic part of Elena – ingrained in her since childhood – that refused to hear people badmouthing Damon. It flared up now, an instinct she couldn't bite back, and it infuriated her that she still allowed this part of her to exist. He didn't deserve to be defended, he didn't deserve to have people see the good in him, not whilst people saw the bad in her. It wasn't fair.

To be fair, that tiny part of her whispered, the way he feels about you now stems from a lie everyone else was quick to believe. Why are you singling him out when the entire town, near enough, turned their backs on you?

Because he was supposed to be different, the more dominant voice in her head retorted. He was supposed to be on my side.

She returned to the present just in time to catch the end of Rebekah's story about the time she managed to juggle three simultaneous dates at Prom without any of the boys she'd been on dates with suspecting a thing. She had to grin because it was a true demonstration of Rebekah's character; Rebekah was just one of those individuals who collected hearts like they were fireflies, and though she'd once professed to one day settle down and have children, she was determined to have her fun first.

In terms of physical appearance, you could definitely pick her out of a crowd, with her hair a bright blonde which only just fell short of being the exact shade of the sun in terms of brightness, but it wasn't her vibrant hair which made her stand out. You had her walk, which was layered with attitude, and her eyes which resembled slits whenever she became angry. If those didn't catch your attention, the way she spoke could spike your interest even if you were on the other side of a crowded room, and it wasn't just the English accent, but the way she pronounced words as hard as if she said them whilst gritting her teeth. Elena couldn't recall what had drawn her to the feisty blonde, but she knew she wouldn't have made it through her sentence without her.

"Listen, I have some errands to run. We have to catch up," Rebekah said, emphasising the last part with a touching amount of earnestness. "I have lots of stories to share."

"Well, I know where you live – opposite me in fact," she joked.

Rebekah's eyes brightened.

"Well then there's no excuse not to call round," she chided playfully. She then turned to Jeremy, looking him up and down. "It's unfair how attractive you are."

"I'm so out of your league," he was quick to quip.

She raised an eyebrow, expressing her doubt.

"Please," she said, tossing back her head as she laughed. "If you weren't Elena's baby brother, I'd be all over you right now."

Elena rolled her eyes and pretended to gag.

"I'm sitting right here. I don't need the mental pictures thank you very much."

Rebekah laughed.

"Remember when I tried to persuade one of the prison wardens that we could start a life together and make beautiful babies if he just slipped the key through the bars?"

"I have to commend you on your efforts, although I genuinely think you broke his heart when he figured out it was only a ruse."

"I think the hearts of men are even more fragile than ours. Their egos certainly are at least, anyway," Rebekah scorned.

On those words, she spun on her heels and vacated the premises, leaving a gobsmacked Jeremy in her wake.

"She's – um – really something," was the conclusion he reached.

Elena smiled.

"You find an assortment of characters in jail, Jer. It's where the best stories come from. I even wrote a few ideas down."

"You need to get back to writing," Jeremy told her with all seriousness. "I haven't seen you write anything in a long time."

She wanted to, but her muse had disappeared – ironically, the moment she'd been released. There was something about traumatic experiences which stifled creativity. On later reflection, they often became the best experiences to draw upon, but for a while they just became the metaphorical roadblocks which stopped you putting your thoughts to paper.

Getting back to writing could take a step back for the moment while she sorted out her priorities.

Number one was reclaiming her life, in whatever shape or form she could get it back in.

Number two was dealing with the pent up emotions she'd bottled up over the years; they festered inside her, the very equivalent of lava inside a volcano, with the ability to erupt at any given moment.

And number three – both the most and least important of her priorities, depending on her viewpoint in that particular moment – was confronting Damon.

It terrified her, the idea of laying all her cards out in front of a man who had essentially become a stranger.

It was at that point she realised what she really needed from him weren't answers to her many questions, most of which were conjured from the bitterest caverns of her heart, nor did she want a reconciliation with him in any shape or form; she just needed closure, a way of wrapping up their story with a nice neat bow. It wasn't going to be a pleasant ending, but it would be an ending that would allow her to move forward.

On paper, the idea of closing the book on Damon sounded necessary, wonderful even; she couldn't live her life in the shadow an epic love had cast. In reality, however, the idea made her sick. Thinking about cutting ties with him punched a gaping hole in her chest. When people think about falling in love, they never think about how painful it is getting back to your feet after such a spectacular, consciousness-altering fall. They never dare contemplate that it could all end after a split second, because as much as people kid themselves about being realists, the truth of the matter is everybody's a hopeless optimistic when it comes to love.

Elena knew a thing or two about being the eternal and hopeless optimist, and what hurt the most wasn't crashing back to earth after gravity kicked in, so that you were forced to see reality what it was.

It was having that little taste of heaven before you were forced to endure hell.

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There was something undecidedly pretty about Mystic Falls when it was on the cusp of winter. It was the beginning of September, with August having retired itself for the year, and Elena watched from her window at all the little signs of winter which had sprouted decidedly from nowhere. The leaves the trees had shed, while in the bosom of Autumn, had hardened and turned crispy along the streets, and this was evident by the noise they made as they blew, albeit sluggishly, along the pavements. There was a chill in the air which seeped through one of the open windows of the house, and she went to close it, unable to resist looking at the back garden, which hadn't been tended to since presumably Summer had danced away.

Not much had changed at home, appearance-wise anyway. Her room had been kept in the pristine condition she'd left it in, and her journal, which she'd been unable to bring in with her, had remained in her secret hiding spot, although she had nothing really to contribute to it anymore. She felt like that journal belonged to a different time, a different Elena, and she'd near enough filled it in anyway, so what was the point in filling those last blank pages with nothing but regrets?

Across the road, she couldn't help but smile as she watched Rebekah argue with a blonde haired man who she had to assume was one of her brothers – one she hadn't had the chance to meet. Even from her spot here, Elena noticed the flash of anger in her former cellmate's eyes which usually was the key signal that told you to back away now unless you wanted to incur her full wrath.

She sighed heavily.

She couldn't help but be reminded of those screaming matches she and Damon used to get into. Usually, it would start when he behaved in a manner that had her inwardly cringing, and then would evolve into her trying to constructively criticise his actions, only for him to retaliate with furious remarks indicating he believed she was trying to change him, and if she couldn't love him the way he was, maybe they should break up. Of course, they always teetered on the edge of a break up, but they'd never ever managed to topple over into the zone of failed relationships. Somehow, they'd struggled on, always fighting the wave of criticism people seemed to throw their way, insisting they weren't right, that they were like two mismatched jigsaw pieces trying to fit together. They'd never seemed to hit the same obstacles which tore conventional couples apart, like jealousy, the fear of being abandoned in favour of someone better, because they'd been secure enough in each other to believe the best in each other. It just seemed to be little problems which crept under the skin which threatened to tear them apart on various occasions, problems like Damon's fragile relationship with his father, or her temper.

She knew it was silly to miss the fights they'd shared just as much she missed the moments that had made them happiest, but in the end weren't the bad moments just as important as the good ones? You needed the bad to remind you of how important it was to fight for the people you loved, and it just made those moments of quiet serenity that much more perfect; you knew in those moments how rough it could get, so it made you more thankful for those pieces of heaven blanketed amongst the hell that a relationship could be.

Nursing a hot chocolate in between her hands - she'd never been a big coffee drinker, although she always had had to have one in the morning, just to get her through the day - Elena watched the Mikaelsons across the road unloading other things from the van. She spotted Elijah relaying instructions, but evidently they weren't being carried out because seconds later he was massaging his temples as a younger, equally dark haired man stumbled out of the back, carrying a box which had evidently split given the fact the contents now were on the floor. A lighter haired man, with a face like thunder, came barrelling out of the house yelling bloody murder, and Elijah was quick to restrain him, which suggested to Elena he was perhaps the oldest.

She was surprised by how much you could learn or pick up by silent observation. Rebekah had joined the throng, and it was instantly clear that she might not have been the oldest, but she was certainly the bossiest, and she appeared particularly close to the light haired man who'd previously been yelling at his brothers. She put a hand on his shoulder and it instantly seemed to calm him, although he still appeared cross, and without another word he turned and disappeared into the house.

As if noticing she was being watched, Rebekah turned, her eyes finding Elena's instantly. Then, in a rare moment of comedy amongst the drama, she rolled her eyes, eliciting a soft chuckle from Elena's lips. They seemed to share the same thought at that particular moment.

Men.

Can't live with them. Can't live without them.

That same mantra seemed to apply to best friends as well. Even ones who'd deserted you in your hour of need in favour of trying to rescue a family which had been dysfunctional for as long as you could remember.


A/n: I've had this chapter three quarters of the way written for a long time. It has just taken me a while to figure out how to end chapters, as I suck at finding that point in which to end them. I won't make any more excuses. Just the usual criminals are behind my lack of updating: procrastination and real life. Hope you can excuse my lack of updating. I aim to try and update this more frequently. Hope you enjoyed this chapter though. Rebekah will be in this frequently as I adore her character, and Lexie will be also be popping in every now and again. In the next few chapters we'll start to learn what's happened with Damon's family, and we'll slowly start to work towards the big crime that Elena was supposed to have committed and why it destroyed Damon's family. Hope you keep tuning in to find out what happens! Love reading your reviews! :)