Sink Or Swim | Chapter Eleven, Summer's Over

Flashback to 1999,
It's the summer,
Not a cloud in the sky.
Present day,
Things have changed,
Summer's over
And it rains here every day.

Lower than Atlantis, Another Sad Song

(AN: WE ACTUALLY MADE IT TO THE PILOT EPISODE OF SEASON ONE, OH MY DAYS. aaaaaand It's still not a full episode. I'm lazy. Exams are over and I'm looking for a job. I saw GNR live twice. Sorry I'm shit at writing. And enjoy this chapter. I'm working on my Hunger Games fic even though the prologue was posted waaay back. I hate myself.)

Elizabeth Forbes sat back in her office chair with a sigh, the firm leather seat squeaking in protest as the wheels gave way a little against the hardwood floor. Her blonde cropped hair was sticking to her flushed face, the air con blaring but doing no good, and she stared at the ceiling in hopes of avoiding the manilla folders sitting on her desk. It was marked in black marker pen, the words seemingly screaming out at her from the off-white paper and jumping off the page, giving her a headache.

'UNSOLVED CASES'.

The Gilbert family case was at the bottom, because there was an irrefutable hope that she'd never have to look at it again, but with the school year beginning she simply couldn't help herself. She was a woman, a Mother and a hard worker foremost, and the fact that her daughter was currently getting ready for the start of the semester was slowly eating away at her. Jamie Gilbert had only been Caroline's age after all, and she remembered the terribly awkward conversations that happened across the dinner table when Caroline brought the girl up. She had tried her best to listen, but after working on the case herself she couldn't bring herself to hear it, and she wondered idly about her own Daughter and the sudden realisation that she wasn't a permanent fixture on this earth and how it had affected her. She was strong though, and she'd carry on as if nothing ever happened. Hiding her resentment, just like she had during the divorce, only for it to pop back up again at unfortunate times- like over the dinner table as she discussed a dead girl.

Liz had been to the high school since then to talk about prevent schemes and drug campaigns at staff briefings, the usual stuff that she had become accustomed to over the years, and she saw the hallways where Jamie's tributes littered the lockers and walls. Suddenly the fact that they were enforcing road safety with an all new reverence made her feel guilty, like she was using this girl's death as an example when it was through no fault of her own. It was terrifying, an inside picture as to what a teenagers bereavement looked like and how the school seamlessly fell into mourning, the pictures of a not so long dead girl peering out as if to say 'don't forget me, I mattered'. Briefly, Liz wondered just how many times the teens at Mystic Falls High School had repeated those very same words in their head over and over, very much alive and well while Jamie's body was lost.

She hadn't just died, she'd somehow gone adrift and Liz couldn't shake it off no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't find the girl, Miranda's poor baby was lost, her body was all alone while her Parents lay at rest at the local cemetery- she didn't even get a proper burial, how could she when she was nowhere to be found?

Almost immediately she could see William Gilbert's face come to mind, the way he sipped at his flask every now and then absently whether there was an audience or not. She saw John grab him by the sleeve of his bright white shirt and take him aside for a word, the way he cut into his own grieving brother at a funeral. How Billy smiled a bittersweet smile and his words seemed to carry across the Church.

"The real Gilbert's, the ones that mattered, are over there in those caskets, John." He's spoken so sudden and abruptly that everyone seemed to turn their head even if they were trying not to look. "I have no one to impress, and I haven't been a part of this family in years."

She had spoken to him later on, remembering him vividly from when she was young and everything had seemed so simple. Billy had always been the best brother, she had thought back then, because he would always speak outright and didn't see himself as anything special. He had been generous and kind and had a startling sense of humour that seemed to knock people on their asses, and his relationship with his brother's hadn't always been strained.

She thought John was about ready to blow when he saw the dog at the graveyard, sitting promptly by Billy's feet as the ceremony continued. He had a face like thunder even as Jeremy and Jenna let out small smiles at the sight, or when Elena let out a small smile as the dog howled at Jamie's name. It was like the dog knew it's owner was dead, that Billy was sad, and it's growl as John came anywhere within five feet was enough to know that the dislike was mutual. That bit got a smile out of Billy, and Jenna too.

"It's been a long time, Lizzie." He'd said through tired eyes and a heart wrenching smile, but he looked handsome standing there all the same in the careless way he wore his suit and all his grief, one hand planted firmly in the dog's hair.

Liz was startled by the dog's gaze, with one eye a blinding white and the other as black as coal, though on closer inspection they were blue and brown respectively.

She had nodded, smiling sadly at the man who had somehow become lost with her youth. "I'm sorry it's under these circumstances, Billy."

"Me too." Billy nodded, his smile gone as the wind blew through the graveyard, and to her it seemed as if he were the ghost and not the one's being lowered into graves. "My girl, Jamie, she had a few run-ins with the law, a real chip off the ole block, hey?"

The dog whimpered slightly, hanging it's head, simpering a bit before resting his cold snout on it's paws. Billy watched these actions sadly, affection and grief shining through grey orbs as he nodded to his companion.

She had always been compared to William Gilbert, the brother who never came back to town, said in passing where Grayson couldn't hear them- because it was a sore spot, Billy's mere existence a black mark on the Founding Family name, known as the Black Sheep of the Gilbert clan. And Jamie was all too much like him.

The dark hair falling into her face in treacherous waves, wicked grey eyes that were too quick on the uptake, her smart mouth and her careless attitude- the unmistakeable pull that made her so likeable to some and so easy to give their admiration for in others. She was the walking talking Billy Gilbert in miniature as a child, and she didn't grow out of it at all in that short time she had been alive.

And all of a sudden Liz remembered the call.

The neighbours reported shouting and screaming and loud noises coming from the Gilbert residence, Officer Johnson and herself had been deployed for a routine check up just to make sure everything was okay. There had been a crackdown on domestic violence after a man in the backroads beat his wife to death, the most violent and obscene crime to happen in Mystic Falls, small town Virginia, other than the odd occurance of 'animal attacks' dotted throughout the years.

None other than Jamie Gilbert had answered the door, standing tall and proud at fourteen- or was it fifteen?- years of age, head held high and eyes staring back at her defiantly as the light shrouded her small figure. She had looked them straight in the eyes and without missing a beat had said- "What's the problem, Officers?"

Liz had noticed the bruises, of course she had, but Jamie was into contact-sports and wasn't one to shy away from a fight. And she'd known Grayson and Miranda, they were on the council and they seemed perfectly normal people, and they were good friends of hers. So she didn't think nothing of it. Not even when Jamie seemed to shrink in the too big doorframe as Grayson came forward and offered a kind smile.

"That Grayson fella, he's a real creep dontchathink?" Officer Johnson had said in the car later that night, "Something's off about him, I can't put my finger on it but there's just something not right 'bout the guy."

She'd brushed off his comment, and she didn't spare the bruises on little Jamie Gilbert's arm another thought.

(The truth was that those bruises were from Grayson, a part of Liz knew that, but she didn't know what went on that night. Words were exchanged, and the esteemed Dr. Gilbert had grabbed Jamie by the arm in a bruising grip and raised his fists. If Elena, poor sweet Elena who stood innocently at the stairs, hadn't interrupted him then the truth was that he would have hit his daughter. The one who was all too much like that bastard brother of his for her own good.)

All of this came back to her at once, and as the whole town stood as one to mourn the good Dr. Grayson Gilbert and his family she couldn't help but think the whole thing over.

Who was Grayson Gilbert really? She asked for the first time, staring into the six feet hole in which his body was going to be laid at rest forever. Who was he and just what in the hell did he do?

Those very same words crossed her mind as she sat in her office that September, and now it wasn't just some dead girl that kept her from opening the case file. She was scared, scared of what she'd find about someone she had called a friend, someone she would have never guessed had struck the fear of God into his little girl.

And Liz decided then and there that it was better for little Jamie Gilbert to stay lost.

Dear diary, today will be different.

The pen paused, lifting from the ruled paper, and Elena couldn't remember the last time she'd had the will to write. It had been her mom that had introduced her to diary entries, her dad that encouraged it after a long line of Gilbert's had kept theirs for future reference, and the way in which Jamie read each one that had shaped and honed Elena's apparent liking to it.

The pen met paper once more.

It has to be.

Of course it did, because summer was over and she didn't have anything left in her to mourn. The memory of her parents and sister left her feeling hollow, and not even the prescription she kept in the cabinet above the sink could relieve that pain.

"High school is rough, Lainey, sure it is." Jamie spoke from the very same window seat she was sitting on right in that moment, "But flash 'em a little smile, show a bit of skin, and tell them what they want to hear and you'll be fine."

I will smile, and it will be believable. My smile will say- What would it say? She wondered briefly, feeling the disheartening flood of writer's block invading her chest and threatening to choke her of her only small relief.

What would Jamie have told her to say?

"I'm fine, thank you."

The pen stopped. Jamie tutted at her, shaking her head softly, "I like the 'thank you', that's a real nice touch. But how are you feeling today, Miss. Gilbert? Good, I hope..."

The pen moved. "Yes, I feel much better."

"Thatta girl!" She jeered, her ruthless smile showing just the right amount of gapped tooth, "I shoulda been a shrink, maybe in the next life though, hey?"

Jamie had always seemed to know what to do and what she wanted to do, and that begged the question; What did Elena want to be?

I will no longer be the sad little girl who lost her parents, who lost her twin. I will start fresh, be someone new. It's the only way I will make it through.

"Very poetic, Lainey. Very poetic indeed." Jamie punctuated with a slow, mocking clap, but Elena knew it was all in good fun. She watched her pseudo sister nod to herself, "Am I sensing a William Shakespeare in our midst?"

Elena shut the diary closed with a slam, finality filling the air and a new determination in her stride. She left her bedroom door open as she left the room, desperate to escape the evasiveness of her sister's memory. It was hard to ignore the door to Jamie's bedroom as she passed it in the hall, but like the words in her diary were a written law she was determined to start the new school year fresh.

(If she had stopped to look into her twin's room she would have found a pitiful Jeremy staring despondently at Jamie's handwriting as he flicked through old school notes that were left untouched. His deft hands searching idly through her vast record collection to find an album he had forgotten the name of by some band or another that Jamie liked to play especially in the mornings. But Elena wanted a fresh start, how was she to know that Jeremy would be left behind in the past?)

"No? William Blake then, perhaps?" Jamie called after her, her tinkering laugh following Elena eerily as she practically raced down the stairs.

What is it that she used to do in the mornings again? Oh, that's right, her mom would have brewed a pot of coffee by now. (In reality it was most likely Jamie that had done all the work, as their mom increasingly got worse as the days went by, and she would have had something prepared for them to eat, too, because they lived a wholesome family life.)

"Toast!" Jenna blurted out, planted firmly by the refrigerator as she searched for something she could offer for breakfast, painfully unprepared and suitably flustered. "I can make toast."

"And that, folks, is the beginning and the end of the impressively short list of thing's Miss. Jenna Sommers can successfully make without burning the house down!" Was what Jamie would have said, but Elena wasn't Jamie and she refused to remember what the first day of school used to look like.

"It's all about the coffee, aunt Jenna." She quipped absently.

"Is there coffee?" Jeremy ventured in.

"It's your first day of school and I'm totally unprepared."

Elena operated much like how she did over the summer, on autopilot. She ignored Jenna's insecure rambling, the way Jeremy was wearing Jamie's oversized hoodie, and just how dysfunctional her life had gotten seemingly overnight. And how it was painfully obvious that she still wasn't used to it at all yet, no matter how much time had passed.

Jeremy took the cup of coffee from her hands in one fluid and expectant motion, so seamless and reminiscent of how they used to be that she somehow hadn't expected it at all. She was jolted from her thoughts by the flicking of bills in front of her face, a determined Jenna standing in front of her with frantic eyes.

She could practically hear her sister making an offhanded comment about strippers, and didn't hear Jenna's frantic tone. "Lunch money?"

"I'm good." She breathed out, helping herself to another coffee that should already be in her hand as she willed her memories influence away.

She hardly noticed Jeremy's eager hands snatching the bills and stowing them away. The questionable thoughts about what he would possibly spend it on was the furthest thing from her mind in that moment. (Buddy Delaney, a local drug dealer and addict that used to be friends with Jamie and was now hanging around with Jeremy was the most obvious answer, the one that blared through her head over the summer whenever Jeremy came home wasted or high.)

"Anything else? A number two pencil? What am I missing?"

"Don't you have a big presentation today?"

"Ugh, I'm meeting with my thesis advisor at… now. Crap." Jenna let out, fixing her hair as Elena took control.

She'd been doing a lot of that lately, in hopes of tricking herself into believing she had her own life under control by reassuring everyone else. Maybe one day it would work. "Then go. We'll be fine."

As Jenna left in a hurry she spun to face her brother, ready to take care of him now that she was so certain she had her own emotional baggage under wraps. "You okay?"

"Don't start."

She remembered the way Jamie and Jeremy used to spend hours at a time in each other's rooms, the way they both leaned in close and talked quietly about something Elena would never get to join in with. The shouting over games, rarely at each other but always at other players or characters, the sketchbooks strewn over the beds as they drew each other and funny little cartoons, the music they both sung along to no matter how early or late it was, the knowing little smiles they shared over the dinner table and the code words and nicknames they threw about affectionately. It was a bond she herself was never let in on, though she had her own with Jamie.

How her sister was the only one that got to call her Lainey, that time she taught her how to kick one hell of a ball, the first time Elena got drunk and how she helped her to bed and tucked her in and cleaned up the broken glass from the vase she'd broken- the next morning when she took the blame without so much as a tell that she was lying, even though Elena knew for a fact she had stumbled into it the night before. That time when they were fourteen and Jamie punched Mike Brovick in the face for saying something dirty about Elena, or at parties where she let Elena have as much fun as she wanted and was always ready to help her home at the end of the night, the countless essays she let Elena copy or the notes she'd borrow- her and Jamie worked together seamlessly, and it had all felt so normal and natural that she supposed she'd never given it a second thought before.

She missed her, she missed it all.

"So Grams is telling me I'm psychic."

When she looked at Bonnie in the car she briefly thought about voicing those thoughts, to get everything off her chest, but this was a new start and she didn't want to talk about it anymore than she had to.

"Our ancestors were from Salem, which isn't all that, I know, crazy- but she's going on and on about it, and I'm like, put this woman in a home already!" Bonnie laughed, "But then, I started thinking, I predicted Obama and I predicted Heath Ledger-"

Elena winced at that, because Jamie had loved Heath Ledger. Moreover, she remembered when her friend had predicted the death.

"Oh, please! This is going to be even better than Batman Begins, I can feel it in my bones. And hey, I love Jack Nicholson, the guy's a God among mere men, but this Joker is going to be off the rails, a whole new breed, I really think you should give it a chance!" Jamie insisted, smiling brilliantly, her words enthused by her love of cinema.

Matt groaned, Jamie and him had been having this argument for weeks now, and he'd been helping her with her impression of the Joker practically everyday, but Bonnie looked rather amused by it all.

"Yeah, Matt." Elena teased, "Jamie's been practicing her new Joker impression already!"

"I've got that impression down, thank you very much, I perfected it last week." Clearing her throat, she began "A year ago, these, uh, cops and lawyers wouldn't dare cross any of you, I mean, what happened?"

Matt then piped in, with a comically deep voice and poor imitation, "So what are you proposing?"

"It's simple." Here she prodded at the inside of her mouth as if getting a feel for the scars she didn't have, a gleeful expression taking over when she realised everyone was humouring her impromptu performance. "We kill the batman."

Elena had always thought that Jamie would make a really good actress, she certainly had the look and the talent for it, and she remembered several times off the top of her head where Jamie had lied seamlessly without so much as giving a tell sign. She was simply too good at pretending and lying to not be good at acting. But nevertheless this performance shocked her a little all the same, because it really did sound like the new Joker and Jamie was terribly good at it.

And then she laughed, a downright eerie and strangely perfect mock of this new Joker's laugh, one that racked her bones and took away her breath, before stating in a comical monotone that was just the right mix of husky and nasally, "Here's my card."

"That was actually… Wow." Matt fumbled, as if he hadn't been the one she had been practising with every day of the week since the trailers came out.

"Who is the new Joker anyway?" Bonnie commented off handedly, her interest piqued at Jamie's enthused show.

Grinning toothily at her, an indulgent kind of wicked grin, Jamie courtsied for her audience as Matt clapped loudly. "Why, other than myself you mean? That would be Heath Ledger, the man the myth the legend in the making himself!"

A strange look crossed Bonnie's features, and she spoke the next words carefully. "Heath Ledger's dead though…"

"What kind of crack have you been smoking, the movie hasn't even come out yet." Jamie snorted. "Take my word for it, Heath Ledger is very much alive, and I reckon he's well on his way to becoming a household name with this movie's release date."

"But… I could have sworn… Nevermind."

And a week later, before the premier of The Dark Knight Rises, Heath Ledger died. Jamie had been devastated, and she never did her Joker impression again.

"And I still think Florida will break off and turn into little resort Islands."

Elena didn't hear her, instead she was thinking about Heath Ledger and Jamie's brilliant impressions. Her sister had been a master of many trades, from academics to the arts, and she somehow managed to be good at everything she tried her hand at. Instead of the envy she used to feel now she just felt empty to it all, because she'd give anything to hear her sister do that damned laugh again or recite the Joker's lines word for word-

"Elena!" Bonnie's voice broke through suddenly, "Back in the car."

"I did it again, didn't I? I, I'm sorry, Bonnie. You were telling me that…"

"That I'm psychic now."

"Right. Okay, then predict something." Elena prompted, flashes of Jamie and Heath Ledger entering her head once more, and she added on hastily. "About me."

"I see…"

And then Elena's heart stopped.

Tires squealing, the car veering off the side of the road.

"Jamie! Jamie, wake up!"

Her Mother's pale face in the pale blue light, her Father's desperate maneuvers to get out of the car, Jamie sitting right next to her, so close that they could touch if only she mo-

"What was that?! Oh my god!"

And then Elena was back in the car, and her family was dead once more.

"Elena, are you okay?"

"It's okay. I'm fine."

"It was like a bird or something, it came out of nowhere."

"Really, I can't be freaked out by cars for the rest of my life."

Tyler could see her face lit up in pale grief in the artificial light of the school hallways, if he wasn't paying attention he'd glance to his left where she had always stood or he'd go to say something only she would get and he knew she'd be the only one to laugh.

He was hanging out with Matt, Elena's sloppy seconds, and he supposed he was an alright guy. Except Tyler had never been an alright guy himself and he wasn't used to having to pretend, because Jamie would have seen through it in a heartbeat and he'd never had to try to maintain a friendship before. With her it came naturally, because she accepted him for what he was, rough around the edges as he may be.

The guys on the football team were alright, and he supposed he liked them well enough, but they were living in the shadow of his dead best friend and he didn't really care much as to what they thought about anything. Nothing that mattered anyway. So over the summer he'd practised bottling it all up, the fear he felt at the dinner table and the trepidation as he glanced his father's way, the grief and the pain and the inexplicable anger that could spike at any given moment- None of it would come to show on his face or in the way he moved, because Tyler Lockwood could like every bit as good as Jamie had been able to. He'd spent his whole life doing it, after all, and as some cheerleader he didn't care to know the name of eyed him shyly he almost felt good.

He'd been doing a lot of that lately too- not caring. Somehow his father's infidelity and volatile nature didn't seem to bother him so much, and his boozy mother's tears couldn't hold a lick of validation compared to the anguish he felt over the dead girl from his childhood. And so he began to live his life in a state of blissful ignorance, the kind that the very same dead girl had been so infatuated with the idea of.

Jamie talked a lot about the virtue of ignorance, about how not knowing was somehow better no matter how hard do-gooders like her twin had tried to argue against it. There was something beautiful about the unknown, the innocence that came with it and the security of knowing that nothing unexplainable would happen had seemed so bright and brilliant back then.

Because Tyler and Jamie had spent a lot of time questioning the things their parents did, and there was no plausible answer to it all. They had learnt that the hard way.

He'd seen Johnny Marx knocking around a few times over the summer, usually hanging out with that kid from the joint Jamie used to work at- Vinny's kid, Angelo or Angel or something like that- mostly at sinkhole bars he had no right being in and with people his parents would look down their noses at, but it didn't hurt to see the guy as much as he thought it would. Maybe because he took comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only one hurting, that there was a lot of people that felt torn up about her now that she was gone. It made his own state of depression and pent up aggression seem less pathetic.

Tyler wasn't Johnny's biggest fan, but he was definitely better than Jude- just the mere memory of that guy made him angry. The guy didn't speak in prose, he didn't speak much at all, and when he did he spoke plainly. He was the kinda guy that never raised his voice, mostly because there was no need, something about him made it so that you could hear him no matter how loud your surroundings were, and he made it so that he could be just as threatening without so much as a change of pitch. There was an honesty about him, but there was something else there too. Johnny wasn't a peaceful guy, he'd seen his fair share of brawls, that much was apparent. At least, it was to Tyler. He spent so much time around his own dad that he could simply tell just by looking at Johnny that he was no stranger to violence. On the giving end or the receiving.

Johnny was the type of guy that was quick on the uptake, be it a biting remark or his fists.

But Jude? Christ, what was Jamie doing with a loser like him in the first place?

He remembered how when Hey Jude came on Jamie's smile grew, and how she swayed softly to the music despite harbouring a mild distaste for The Beatles with a cigarette jutting from between her lips in his dad's study where they drank whiskey from the tumbler and wine by the bottle. The neat lines of cocaine they'd rack up all tidy only to get sloppier and more crooked as the night went on shining bright against the hardwood finish. He'd never really taken to it personally, but his dad sure seemed to like the stuff judging by the sheer quantity of it in the bottom right hand drawer of his desk. And if they were stealing it from his old man, well then Tyler was more than happy to oblige.

And when that song came on Tyler would shake his head, because he hated the song almost as much as he hated the kid with its namesake. Jude had been an idiot, an absolute fool, and for some reason Jamie had found it endearing. Anyone could recite stolen poetry and come up with a few rhymes, take a claim for peace without suffering any violence in their lifetime. Tyler knew a thing or two about not fighting back, knew exactly where that would end him in the long run, and he hated Jude because he didn't know shit.

His dad was a hero, he fought for the country, and this kid had the nerve to put him down for fighting for it. He bet Jude's dad never hit him, never screamed and shouted and broke up the house, never hurt his mom. This kid didn't know how good he had it, didn't know how much Tyler wanted what he had.

He bet Jude never stole his dad's stash of cocaine and drank expensive whiskey that tastes like ass initially only to carry on drinking it anyway because the bruise on his face was practically spitting from the memory of it. How over time that very same whiskey didn't seem to taste so bad no more and before he knew it the bottle was gone. How he had to sit out on the first four games of the season because his old man sure did a number on his ribs the next day. And how Tyler felt like crying as Jamie helped bandage him up properly, all because his mom's hands were too clumsy and daft from the shakes she got on occasion because she spent more money on wine than she did on food. How he watched the weight dwindle from her body with each passing day, and yet his dad still preferred fucking some cheap hooker with fake hair and patchy tan that dropped out of high school only a few years ago and lived down the street. It was so convenient that when Tyler witnessed it first hand he felt the sudden and sickening urge to laugh. No, Jude wouldn't have understood any of that, but Jamie sure did.

She had seemed to find it amusing, those talks of peace and loving everyone. She didn't buy into it, of course, and she was quick to take the piss once Jude's back was turned, but she had a soft spot for the guy all the same. When it came down to it Jamie didn't know peace, she was just like Tyler in that aspect, but she didn't hate the notion either.

He wondered if she found peace in death, and he hoped beyond hope that she did. Because no one knew pain like Jamie, and no one deserved that peace she had been so in love with more.

So he looked at Matt, really looked at the guy and thought hard about it, because Matt knew pain too and he was still an alright guy.

It was then that he supposed he would be just fine, that even though a crucial piece to the puzzle was missing he was willing to stick by Matt. Because, funnily enough, Tyler had some twisted sense of morals, and the one thing he valued highly was loyalty.

That's why, later that day, when he saw Elena and the new kid making gooey eyes at one another as he racked up the pool table, he decided right there and then that he was going to make Stefan Salvatore's school life hell. Because just look at Matt's face.

Jamie hadn't stepped foot into her own home since those initial few days where she'd ended up here, in the prison world, and no longer was this house a home. She had a new one, where she made memories with every passing day and her chest got lighter and her smile grew wider- and she was swimming at her own leisure, floating as the current washed over her in gentle beats and gazing into Kai's excited eyes. He was now her home as far as she was concerned. She didn't dream of drowning, she wasn't scared of her Father, the dead haunted her no longer and she was free once more. Free indeed, like she had only ever been as a child.

So she stepped foot back into the door, slamming the screen door carelessly where it rattled the frame. She had broken that very same screen door when she was four, she'd punched a hole in the netting and gave it a hard kick and it fell from the hinges with a creak. Elena had told their parents. This was back in the days where her dad liked her enough to smile, when her mom had only just begun to wish she was more like Elena, and the memory was almost fond.

She heard steps creek up the porch steps, and felt Kai as he entered the room.

"Sooo… Which room's yours, gorgeous?"

Jamie learnt early on that Kai could make her laugh. She'd throw her head back with her lips parted and laughter making her shoulders shake and her stomach heave. They'd fall into each other, sharing little touches in their joint mirth as they cracked up over something, they'd push and pull and tug at each other desperately. They were in-your-face-obnoxious, overly theatrical and pitifully dramatic, it was a showmanship of camaraderie in which they purposefully tried to outdo one another. They gave long rambling speeches atop tables and bars, threw their arms out and made fancy declarations and comical confessions while spinning and making obscene gestures, read aloud the most pretentious literacy they could find and made stupid poems that were overly infatuated. They had made the world their stage, and they were always trying to steal the show.

Kai's signs of loneliness dissipated over time, surprisingly quick considering the fifteen years of solitude. He learned that he liked having an audience, someone to cheer and jeer him on, to clap for him and call out his name, to have someone to smile and laugh with.

She appreciated his nonexistent moral compass and childlike behaviour, the prodding and pushing that only a sibling could induce and endure. As far as they were concerned they were the black sheep, and she had always had a tendency to befriend those types.

"I'll show you." She told him, "But don't get too jazzed or nothing, I was two in '98."

"Ugh, don't remind me." Kai groaned dramatically, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and a teasing smile settled at his lips, "Jo must be ancient by now, at least I've aged with grace."

Snorting, Jamie elbowed him out of the way to race up the stairs, "You're lucky you don't age, Grandpa, try keep up will ya!"

"You're such a child!"

"Dude, don't talk to me it's weird, you're like thirty seven- gross."

"You're only as young as you feeeeel, Jamiebell." He cackled, and next thing you know Jamie was sent stumbling as he rushed by. "And I'm feeling fresh!"

"Is being annoying in your genetics or were you dropped on your head as a child?" She quipped, making a beeline for her own room.

"What- no Peter Pan theme?"

"Fuck off, Malachai, you Bible bashing fool."

He whistled lowly, pointing her way, "Alright, Tink, put your wings away."

"Suck my fairy dust."

"I do enjoy these little chats, I really do." He deadpanned, looking through the toy chest with interest. "They made you use an abacus? That's borderline child abuse!"

Jamie rolled her eyes, huffing, "It hurt more than when they beat me."

"What else have you got around here? Not that I don't love the racecar bed, because I do, but I want the juicy stuff."

"The record collection is to the left, by the shelf." She drawled, "My first was actually The Wall by Pink Floyd, and then I hounded my dad into getting me London Calling by the Clash and Nevermind."

"An up and coming Nirvana fan, I like it." He grinned, shooting her a cheeky wink. He flopped down on her bed, sighing heavily with the record on his chest, "I'm basically your Peter Pan. This is Neverland. Hey, can I get another hit of the good stuff?"

"Then this is the most depressing fairytale I've ever seen."

"Wanna take a ride on the race car?"

"That's my childhood bed, man."

"Fast and wild, I like your style."

(AN: You guys must be bloody sick of listening to all the bloody depressing shit I spew out onto the page (despite the potential comic relief at the end ayyy), but I feel as if no one gives Tyler enough credit or recognition for the shit he went through and just skirt over the numerous deaths of crucial characters! Like, for real, losing a best friend or a role model would seriously fuck you up, take my word for it. Also, a lot of that loss symbolises the growth of these characters and what shaped them into what we saw in the series. Jeremy's drug problems, Jenna's insecurities, Elena's watered down personality, Caroline's word vomit around her, Bonnie's protectiveness and pushiness, etc. is all down to Grayson and Miranda's deaths; IMAGINE JAMIE'S IMPACT. The whole school freaked when Tanner died, and he was an asshole, the entire town shared condolences for Mayor Lockwood despite his bullshit, so please just imagine what would happen in Mystic Falls when a smart girl from a well-known family with historical standing dies along with her parents in a tragic accident.

Zach was a total recluse from what we saw, maybe Jamie's small part in his life impacted that in some way.

Enzo had literally been abandoned by EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON. In his life so far! He actually liked Jamie and she was his only contact to the outside world in decades. They shared a goddamn bond, okay?!

Elena lost her twin, her other half, the one she spent her entire life with- like, holy shit. Every memory is significant to Jamie in some way, because they spent their entire lives together, and believe you me she won't escape comparison or off handed comments now that Jamie's gone.

Jeremy lost a sister and a role model and perhaps the only person who really understood him and shared his interests.

Tyler lost his best damn friend, the only one who understood him and gave a damn about him, maybe even the only person who could put up with his bollocks.

Jenna lost a niece, one she undoubtedly had a bond with because let's face it Jenna is awesome.

Billy lost his niece, the only real connection he had to his family in years, and the one he felt most at home with.

Roscoe lost an owner, this poor doggie is gonna miss her like hell.

Johnny lost his (ex)girlfriend, and he's going through some shit.

Buddy lost a customer, but he also lost a role model of sorts- because if anyone was going to succeed in life despite a little bit of a drug problem it was Jamie. And that jeremy kid isn't so bad.

IMAGINE OLD MAN RICHARDSON LOSING HIS LITTLE TYKE AFTER LOSING HIS WIFE, KIDS AREN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE BEFORE THE ELDERLY OKAY.

This was a long ass author's note but I just wanted to emphasise the impact of Jamie's death and just how horrible it is for everyone who had anything even remotely to do with her when she was alive. Thanks for all the reviews and stuff, you guys are bomb as hell.)