*Rhiannon Gallagher's face claim is Angelina Jolie circa. Mr. and Mrs. Smith*

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"Though no one can make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending."

—Marcus Aurelius

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Chapter One

Elena Gilbert

4:25 PM, Monday

September 7th, 2009

———

"Thanks, Doc!" Sharon Dyer calls out with a wave as she heads out to her car.

Smiling as I wave the bipolar maturing woman out, I quickly close my front office door and speedily prepare for Elena Gilbert.

As one of the town's two therapists, I made it a regular practice to be up-to-date on the news in town. Sad as it is, if I know about tragedies ahead of time, I can narrow down who my clientele will be. And that's exactly how it was the morning of May 24th, when it was announced on the news that Miranda and Grayson had passed away. I knew that eventually today would come, and I had already set up my grief packages for each of the main remaining Gilbert family members.

At the start, I thought that Jenna would be the first to reach out, but she hasn't spoken to me since the funeral. I think she's scared that I'll analyze and judge her, but that couldn't be less true.

I can see that their family is hurting, and I want to help.

Which is why, on the day of the funeral, I gave them each a complimentary hour of therapy as my condolences. I'll admit, I lost hope after two months passed, but it seemed from her call that Elena was determined to turn things around, and she wanted my help to do it.

Smiling, I tuck in the paperwork I had Elena turn in yesterday with permission from her guardian, and Jenna's in-person visit would solidify her as my new on-going patient as long as she liked me today. The first impression is huge. Primly placing my pen and pad next to my computer, I do a quick glance of my office to make sure that everything looks tasteful and professional.

Decorated artfully for the last two years since I've moved here, my office is my sanctuary, and the one place I've always preferred being in. It was a well-lit, pastel pink room with large windows, decorated sporadically with white furniture and an assortment of flowers and plants growing in pots. Soft pop flowing peacefully through the air kept the area upbeat while not overwhelming the room, quietly allowing me to mouth along to my favorite 80s songs as I filled out my schedule. The A/C was something I always fought hard on keeping fixed year round since telling the truth tends to make people sweaty, so it always felt like a soothing breeze came through the office; the effect was a space that was more open and more welcoming to genuine interactions with their situations.

Hopefully, Elena will agree.

Taking a deep breath, I move back and sit on the exercise ball at my desk. Yes, it's an exercise ball; yes, it's fun to bounce in while I type in my notes for the day; and yes, it was to make sure I didn't get fat while sitting on my duff at my desk ten hours a day. It was almost time for Jenna and Elena to arrive, so I took a sip of my coffee from my thermos and waited patiently and pleasantly for my new patient.

Hearing a ring at the front door bell, I hear my secretary, a lovely young girl named Dana, greet someone and assist them with signing in. Standing as I hear multiple footsteps approach, I smile brightly as Sommers and Gilbert walk into my office.

"Hey, guys! I'm so glad you could make it," I greet warmly, reaching out and giving Jenna a handshake instead of a hug because her stiff posture indicates she's nervous around me. She shakes my hand back firmly, but her blue eyes are dodgy at best.

Okay, so, maybe she has a valid reason to be scared that I'm gonna shrink her.

Turning to Elena, I see that she's just as stiff, smile in a tight line— part of me would wonder if she's voluntarily coming, if she hadn't seemed so sure when she turned in the paperwork yesterday.

Maybe it's Jenna? Does Elena feel like she can't tell her aunt anything?

"Hey, Elena," I warmly greet, and she gives me a sweet, genuine smile in return.

"Hi, Ms. Gallagher," she replies, glancing at Jenna briefly before awkwardly setting her lips in a thin smile.

That's important.

Turning back to face Jenna, I set my hand on the hip of my slacks with a polite smile. "Alright, Jenna. Me and Elena are gonna have some girl talk. See you in an hour?"

She nods curtly with the same tight smile on her face, promptly turning off with a "bye, Elena!" and a wave over her shoulder. I arch a brow at Elena and she just shrugs with a laugh and a sheepish grin, walking herself right into my office.

Okay, so, she's eager to get started— she wants to make a big change.

Walking myself into my office, I close my door and go sit on my exercise ball at my desk. Elena lands on one of the two large, sky-blue bean bags on the opposite side of the office, smiling brightly. I know the silly look on her face.

Smiling as I glance up at her from my notepad, I squint at her suspiciously.

"I know that face. Did you meet someone, Elena?" I whisper scandalously with a playful smile. She rolls her big brown eyes at my teasing.

"Oh, whatever," she sighs dreamily, laying back her head against the back of the beanbag and ignoring the question. We'll definitely have to get to that at some point.

Anything that makes a girl that happy so soon after her parents' death and her very own near-death experience was something that was important enough to discuss here. Grabbing my reading glasses from the top of my desk, I put them on and roll myself over to the beanbags across from Elena, so both me and Elena are looking at each other with no obstructions.

Crossing my legs and setting my pad and pen in my lap, I smile up at Elena. "Alright, so, I know you already know me from my talks at your school, but I want to establish it again for professionalism's sake.

"My name is Rhiannon Gallagher, and you get to call me Rhiannon. I'm a therapist. What this means is that I'm here to help you improve your life, boost your knowledge so you can better discern what you're feeling and why you're feeling that way, and help you cope with challenges you face— past or future.

"You get to tell me about your problems, and I will give you unbiased direction to come to your own conclusions. Basically, you alreadyhave all of the answers to your problems that you have control over; I'm just here to help guide you to them. On the other hand, I'm also here for when you're struggling in a situation you have no power over, and you need an empathetic ear to listen to you. Now, we need to talk about the not-so-fun part," I finish off my first speech resolutely, looking up at Elena seriously, and she sits up in the beanbag to actively listen to me.

"Do you want to know who I am at the core of my being, Elena?" I ask with a brow arch, challenging her to be curious about me.

She takes the bait, dark chocolate eyes narrowing curiously at me. She likes a good mystery.

"Who?" Elena asks, brushing a strand of her straight brown hair out of her pretty face.

"I'm a digger, Elena," I emphasize with a raise of my brows, "Once we get started, I'm going to be digging through everything that has ever happened to you to get to the core of the problems that you're having. I'm going to be dragging up negative memories, but the only way I can help you is if I know everything. Jenna won't hear about anything unless you tell me you're going to harm yourself or someone else, so I need us to have the most honest relationship possible.

"I'm not your conscience, I'm not going to tell you whether I think what you're doing is good or bad. My job is to help you make your own decisions. So, I'd like you to promise me that you'll be honest during our visitations, so that my time is benefiting you."

She nods, brown eyes serious as she glances at the ground before looking back up at me earnestly.

"I...," she pauses, and I see that Elena's getting slightly emotional over whatever she's about to say. "I am so tired of people pitying me. I know that it's a lot to ask from everyone, but I would've felt a lot better if they had just assumed I was okay."

Dislikes pity, I write down underneath Elena Gilbert's name on my pad, glancing up at her with an understanding look.

"I get it. I don't love people feeling bad for me either. But, it's important to remember that for most people, that's the most effective way for them to display their empathy for your situation. It's important to see what role they're playing in this situation; the bystanders of a tragedy. A lot of people are awkward and don't know what to do in situations like this, or even what they would do in this situation, so their recognition of your sadness converts to a sort of selfish pity accidentally. It's not their fault; they're empathizing as much as they can, they just can't relate to this type of loss," I explain, jotting down that Elena's face seemed open to listening to my advice, her body language relaxed.

She nods thoughtfully, biting her lip as one of her hands rubs her brown leather jacket-coated arm as if she's comforting herself. Did she feel alone after her parents passed away?

"I hadn't really thought about that, but I guess that makes sense. I just wish everything and everyone would go back to normal."

Humming, I lean forwards on my bean bag with a smile. "Is that what's so special about this special someone? They don't pity you? They treat you normal?"

Flushing pink, Elena Gilbert giggles nervously, and it's obvious just how much she likes this person.

"There's.. this guy that I met today," she groans with a smile, flustered. "He's new in town, and absolutely gorgeous."

Tapping the end of my pen on my pouty pink lips, I smile at her twitterpated face as I reply, "Ooh, 'gorgeous', you say? Any other qualifications?"

Rolling her eyes, Elena folds her hands together, elbows on her knees as she scoffs at me. "Not 'qualifications', god. So.. basically, I was visiting my parents' graves today and I was sitting at their headstones, writing in my journal— by the way, I've started keeping a journal as my latest self-help move, don't ask to see it— and this super creepy fog rolled in and there was this crow that wouldn't leave me alone. I waved the bird away but, then it started squawking and it was super ominous in the graveyard with the fog and all that, so I ran," she starts off.

Jotting down the major points of her story, I nod up at her once I've caught up, for her to continue.

"So," Elena continues starting to get invested in the story she's telling me, gesturing with her hands to explain the situation further, "I'm running, my paranoia thinking for some reason that the stupid bird is chasing me, and I trip over this rock in the path through the forest-y part of the graveyard. I'm freaking out, thinking, 'oh, god, bird attack!' But then, there's no bird. I turn around and it's the new cute guy at school. Stefan Salvatore. But, it's stupid, I'm being overdramatic because I'm stressed."

I raise my gaze to hers when my brain connects the name to the town. "Is he Zach's kid or something?" I ask curiously, wondering if I should surprise my woods neighbor with a welcome basket for the newcomer. Elena's large brown eyes narrowing on me suspiciously, and I move to fix my misstep in joking with her first before I dived in.

"Wait, before you get upset, I'm not asking really for my personal gain. Zach is my neighbor, so I didn't know if I should bring something by for the new kid. To reiterate, I legally cannot inform other people of our meetings, what we talk about, or that you're even my patient. If I ever did, you could sue me within an inch of my life and I'd lose my licensing," I explain further, wanting her to know she can trust me. Looking up at her as I finish jotting down another note on her behavior, I give her a wry grin.

"And as for this boy, Stefan," I shoot a wink her way, smirking further when Elena blushes at the boy's name, "If you think you can do so in a healthy way right now, I'd say that's all the more reason to try to see where your feelings lead, or, at the very least, this is a great way to learn how to acknowledge and accept your feelings for what they are— just your feelings. Just how you feel at the moment, it's always fluid in it's shapes, and it's important to acknowledge and accept whatever state it's in whenever. It'll help you ground yourself in emergencies if you can acknowledge that you're panicking in the first place—get me?"

"Yeah," Elena sighs out reluctantly, hearing the truth in my advice and it making her uncomfortable. Doesn't like discussing own feelings. Well, that's a problem for our therapist-patient relationship. That's when I remember what a colleague of mine had suggested I do for patients who weren't super emotionally in tune with themselves.

Dropping my pad and pen to the floor abruptly, swiftly capturing Elena's attention, I lean a bit forwards to really get on her level while maintaining a professional distance. Blinking up at me in surprise, Elena raises a dark brow at my sudden antics.

"Here's what we're gonna do, Elena," I say pulling my dark hair from it's bun, allowing the brown strands to fall as I feel my head start to pulse from wearing the reading glasses while looking around. "Me and you are going to play a game where we alternately answer each other's questions. You get to know more about me, and I, likewise, get that same conversation. Sound good to you?"

Brows furrowing curiously at the idea of learning more about the enigma that was my life, Elena solemnly nods after a a moment of deliberation. "Can I go first?" She asks, and I quickly nod my head.

"Where did you move here from?" She asks, firing off quicker than I thought she would a the sudden prompt for questions. Maybe she was already thinking about the questions?

"I moved here from San Antonio about two years ago. But, if you're asking where I'm from, I grew up in a small town called Palmer Lake over in Colorado," I decide to add, wondering briefly why this was her first question.

"Who are your friends?" I ask, really focusing since I didn't want to distract from the conversation by grabbing the pad and pen that I had thrown on the ground in my hubris.

"Well, Bonnie's my best friend. Then there's Caroline, Tyler, and Matt. Well— Matt used to be one. We dated, but I broke up with him after the accident," Elena adds, and I'm glad that she's seriously matching my contributions. Brown eyes bright with interest in me, she crosses her legs as she gives me a sheepish smile.

"Not to be weird, but you're like, super pretty. What made you become a therapist instead of a model or something?"

I give her a huff and a faux pout, blushing heatedly at the compliment as I put on woe-is-me eyes, teasingly responding, "Suck up. I ended up choosing Women's Studies when I was in high school as a research subject. I knew that I had the facilities to dedicate myself to a process that helps other people move past what's blocking them from achieving their full potential. If I chose anything else, I would've felt like I took the easy way out, you know?"

She nods, body language glowing with understanding.

"Yeah, totally. Like you knew that you had more of yourself to offer and anything less would've been a waste?"

I think we'll get along just fine, Miss Elena Gilbert, I think with a smile, ready to continue our question game for the next hour.

———

Waving Elena and Jenna off just as the sun starts to set off in the distance, I sigh in relief when I close my front office door, turning to Dana, I shoot her a tired wink. "Busy Monday, huh?" I ask, and she nods in the affirmative, tidying up her desk for the day.

"Yeah, I had no idea how many people actually came here," she replies sweetly, and I know most other people would be suspicious when she says something like that, but trust me, she's perfectly harmless. Dana Andrews is a pure-hearted girl, and I knew better than to think she'd ever discuss what happens in the office. Reaching to grab my purse and jacket off of the coat rack behind the front door, I quickly slide them on as Dana retreats down the hall to turn off all of the lights.

Smiling tiredly at her as she returns, Dana grabs her things from her desk, meeting me by the front door with an equally sweet smile. "Ready to go?" She asks, holding the door open for me.

I nod, following her out the door as I finagle my keys from my purse. After locking up shop, we promptly go our separate ways with a 'see you tomorrow' and retreat to our cars. Sighing in relief as I walk up to my silver 2007 Toyota Camry, I quickly press for the doors to unlock and toss my purse haphazardly inside, sliding into the front seat with a sigh. Automatically locking my doors with my muscle memory, I take a deep inhale before leaning my forehead against the steering wheel for a second.

I'm running on fumes here.

It wasn't my fault I was so tired; lately, I had been having a recurring nightmare. It was horrific: the town of Mystic Falls slowly, but surely sinking into a tar pit, the citizens not even knowing as they go about their daily tasks until they're ensnared. Then, they scream as they melt into the mass of black, becoming part of the tar itself.

Rolling my eyes at my own existential anxiety leaking through to my dreams, I wish, not for the first time, that being a therapist meant you could be a therapist for yourself. Maybe I should call Cindy, I briefly ponder, everyone needs a tuneup once in a while, maybe I just need someone to talk to.

An anxious, gnawing feeling at my stomach told me otherwise though.

Groaning tiredly, I sink my key into the ignition and crank the car on, buckling my seatbelt just as the sun sets along the coast. Pulling the car into reverse, I think on Elena Gilbert as I pull out of my office and drive out into the Mystic Falls night.

That poor thing is struggling.

From what I could tell, not only was Elena actively ignoring her grieving process in an attempt to numb it, but she was also actively looking for someone or something else to focus on. Or at least, that's what I think this Stefan guy is serving as for her.

She wants a do-over, but there are no do-overs, so Elena's unconsciously choosing the second best option by drastically changing her immediate circumstances where she can. It's avoidance at it's core, but it's something we could work on.

Pulling my Toyota into the parking lot for the Grill, my stomach growls at the aroma of French fries leaking into my car from outside. Shouldn't have skipped lunch again, I think irritably as I grab my purse, exiting my car and locking it as I walk up to the restaurant. Walking inside, I slip my jacket off, folding it in my arms as I go to my favorite spot: the bar.

Flushing a bit at the many eyes that lock onto me as I walk through, I subconsciously rub my mouth, wondering if there's something on my face as I take my seat at the back corner of the bar. Giving the bartender my order of an Old-Fashioned and a side of green chili fries, I pull out my compact from my purse, checking my face to see if anything is on it.

"There's nothing on your face, if that's what you're wondering," a deep, annoying voice says from behind me, and I snap the compact mirror shut as his reflection appears.

Rolling my eyes as the bartender returns with my drink, I spin to face him on the stool, glass in hand as my eyes narrow at him. "What do you want, Fell?" I ask venomously, not in the mood to talk to the prick.

"Ah," he sighs like he's surprised, sitting in the stool besides me and flagging the bartender down. "Good to see nothing's changed between the Fells and Hawthornes, Rhiannon."

The last name always sends chills up my spine, uncomfortable memories of my childhood bubbling under the surface— a place I definitely don't want to return to. Glaring at him as I rotate back to face the bar, swirling my drink before taking a sip of the strong beverage.

"Good thing I'm not a Hawthorne anymore, then, isn't it? I can just hate you for your personality like everyone else," I snip, eyes visually devouring the chili fries that the bartender is carrying our way.

"Oh, come on, Rhiannon," he sighs, downing the shot of tequila that the bartender brings him before continuing, "You know the Council doesn't care what your parents said. Whether you like it or not, you're a Mystic Falls native at the end of the day, and the last member of your Founding family. Besides, wasn't the divorce finalized last year?"

My grip on my glass tightens as my eyes narrow further at him from the corner of my eye. "Yes, but in case you weren't around, I didn't have any other family or last name left," I retort, downing the rest of my drink in an attempt to stifle the anger I feel at him mentioning Adam. "If this was your way of trying to get me to help out the Council, don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

Folding his hands and leaning forwards to really eye me down, my irritation grows when I see him obviously check me out with no shame.

Snapping back to the matter at hand, his blue eyes pierce mine, "This is my way of inviting you to join the Council. We need as many families as possible nowadays, Rhiannon. You know that."

I did.

The problem was, I didn't care.

Glaring fiercely at him, I stand and slap a twenty on the bar, swiping the container of chili fries as I throw my jacket back on.

"You all got me to move back, I'll give you credit for that," I say, zipping up my jacket as I turn to face the exit with a completely ruined appetite.

Glancing back at him momentarily, I hope he sees the blunt honesty in my face when I say, "As it stands, I would rather die than help any of you."