And here is chapter eight. Later than I'd wanted, but it is here. To all of the people following, favouriting and commenting on this story; thank you. I was very happy with all your kind and helpful words! Anyway, on with the story!

o.O.o

Chapter Eight, Little Fires Everywhere

Warm golden rays shattered out over the wooden panelled floorboards, bathing my legs a warm olive. My skin tingled with warmth and I rubbed my fingers over my eyes. Sleep was hard to shake and I scrambled across the room and into the bathroom.

Turning the tap on, I held my wrists beneath the cold water and splashed some water on my face. When I was satisfied I looked awake enough, I caught the eyes from my reflection and stared. It was still incredibly weird having Nina Dobrev stare back at me, but I was somewhat getting used to the sight. Combing my fingers through my now damp hair, I fixed it up in a high ponytail. Returning to my bedroom, I dressed quickly.

I hadn't built up the courage yet to call Doctor Jonas Martin. I will admit, calling a virtual stranger, that was too weird. Even for me. Besides, I was worried about calling someone I barely knew out of the blue. What if Greta was still part of their family? What if one of Elena's parents barged in? But most of all, what if they wouldn't want to help me? Sure, for his daughter, I was sure Mr. Martin would try and move the world, but for me? I would be dispensable.

For all, I knew he would contact Klaus to exchange me, on a silver platter with the metaphorical apple in my mouth, for his daughter. Klaus didn't care much for humans — a few notable exceptions, perhaps — so I could only assume he would be more than willing to swab one with for one doppelgänger.

I had to play my cards right.

A glance at the bedside table had me groan. I'd never been good with time. Always running late and taking over Elena's life, that hadn't changed. Hitching my leather schoolbag up my shoulder, I descended the stairs quickly. Grayson had already left but Miranda was still there, making what looked like breakfast. I had no idea what Miranda's breakfast cooking tasted like, but if it was anything like that one dinner she'd patched up when Grayson worked late and Jeremy refused to wait any longer, I would pass. Pouring coffee in my thermos flask, I snatched an apple from the fruit bowl and all but fled from the house, ignoring the 'Aren't you hungry, honey?'.

Unsurprisingly I was late for school. By the time I arrived, the school car park was full and I had to manoeuvre the SUV in one of the empty parking slots of the Mystic Grill. It was the closest free parking lot to the school, yet, it was still a good ten minutes walk, and by the time I reached the school grounds. It was probably just my luck I started the day off with History.

"Elena Gilbert," Mr. Tanner drawled annoyed when I tumbled into the classroom fifteen minutes late, "how nice of you to join us."

I almost groaned. I should have skipped this class all-together. Why hadn't I skipped History? I knew who was giving it. Rubbing my hands together, I averted my eyes to his shoulder, not looking him in the eye. Powdery clouds of chalk dust were floating around Tanner's shoulders and I clenched my jaws together. "Good morning, Mister Tanner," I forced out, "I'm so sorry I'm late. I overslept."

"You overslept?"

"Yes."

No, I thought, but if I don't have some stupid excuse for you, I'll probably be in detention till prom.

"Well, may I suggest you buy yourself an alarm clock?"

"Right, of course, Sir."

"Detention, miss Gilbert. I have been lenient enough these last few weeks."

I smiled tightly. "Of course, Sir."

"Take your seat."

I nodded stiffly and slumped down in the only available seat next to the window. Early-morning sunlight filtered inside in sharp, bright white prisms. I tried to calm my anger and sucked my top lip between my blunt front teeth and curled my fingers into tight fists. God and I thought I'd done at least one thing right in (accidentally) deriving Damon's psychotic murderous phase, but— I bit down on my lip hard. I knew that had been a horrible thought. Wishing someone dead in anger? Truly disgusting and I shivered.

"Are you all right?" Bonnie whispered.

"I'm—" I started and forced my muscles to relax, "—I'm okay. Just angry."

"Yeah, you got Tannered, all right."

I nodded, drawing my tongue along my lips. "He's an ass."

"You say that as if it is a surprise."

"I'm always surprised by the new levels of disgust that man can bring me to," I muttered.

"Amen," Bonnie agreed.

I spent the rest of the lesson passing notes with Bonnie, dutifully ignoring both adoring, devoted glances from Stefan Salvatore and Matt Donavan. This trend continued during English class and once again I was struck with how lonely this school year would be.

I might have had Bonnie and Caroline to talk to, might have had the Gilbert family to talk to, but— not really. Pretending only did so much— Pretending didn't suddenly make it all right. I had been a quiet person. Out with friends— not so much, but at school, I was quiet and shy. I didn't make friends easily and I certainly hadn't been popular. Teenagers, more often than not, didn't like quiet peers in high school. So I had to pretend. Pretending was all I had here.

When English was let out, I parted from Bonnie and deliberately moved towards the library. Located on the second floor, the library was at the back of the building. During lunch, it was almost always deserted and I moved to the back taking out my cell phone. Honestly, it was now or never, and with trembling fingers, I scrolled through my messages until I found Mr. Martin's number. My finger hovered above the call button for a good few seconds before I pressed down and waited. The call was answered after a full minute and I held my breath.

"Hello, Doctor Martin's general practitioner, please hold." A bright peppy voice answered and my brows furrowed. The number to the general practitioner? Seriously? God Damn! Damon! What had he done, search the internet on 'Doctor Jonas Martin' like I had done and just decided one of the hits looked good to him? Clenching my jaw I inhaled deeply.

"Hi, I'm looking for Jonas Martin?"

"Doctor Martin isn't available right now. Can I take a message, or do you want to make an appointment?"

"Erm, yes?"

"What's your name?"

"Elena," I started before feeling my mouth go dry, "Thomson. My name is Elena Thomson."

"Miss Thomson, what kind of appointment can I make for you?"

"No," I tried and wetted my lips, "I mean can you give him a message?"

I didn't even know where this practice was located and I couldn't think of a reason to need a doctor for. The girl on the other end — I imagined she was blonde with dark-red lips and blue eyes — was doing something on her computer. I could hear her fingers run over the keyboard, probably looking my up as a registered patient and I sighed.

"It's about Greta," I said.

"Greta?"

"Yes, his daughter?"

The ticking had stopped. "I'm afraid I can't disclose any personal information."

I sighed. "I'm not asking— You know what, just ask him to call me on this number if he does have a daughter named Greta and wants to talk. See yah!" I answered irritably and ended the call. I could feel myself teetering on the edge of an explosion, even if I had little reason to do so and I cursed. I still had fifteen minutes left and I stormed outside.

I missed the times where I could just skip a class or two and take the bus to my favorite animal shelter. What I wouldn't give to go and take long walks with the dogs or play with the cats. God, I missed my old life. I even missed my college classes and my thesis advisors.

I would never deny that apart from the supernatural trouble, Elena didn't have a good life. She did. Even when her parents died in the car accident, she had her trust fund her brother, a nice, sheltering home. She had friends and prospects. Was it the happiest? Probably not, but whose life was?

The Klaus thing was a big problem and I knew there was something with the Doppelgänger curse too, although by then I had stopped watching the show. Not even all the YouTube scenes could fill me in of all the shit that would happen. But I was sure— it could be worse? It could be less worse though if the Doctor Martin I had called to was the right Doctor Martin. If he wasn't— I was going to murder Damon Salvatore.

"Elena," Caroline said as I stepped outside and almost bumped into her.

"Hello, Care," I greeted and listened half-heartedly as she babbled and babbled.

I leaned against the desktop of the park table and leisurely crossed my ankles. It was a warm autumn day and the rough wood surface of the table was digging into the backs of my thighs. Bonnie gave me a curious glance and I tried harder to listen to the conversation. Dana was explaining in a teary voice and flushed cheeks how her parents fought like cats and dogs.

Dana's parents, just like Elena's parents for that matter, had married straight out of high school. When they procreated Dana and her sister were born and for a while, to the outside world, her family seemed like they were living the American Dream. An illusion if Dana was to be believed.

"—And then, when my mom came home with the grocery shopping, she found him in bed with his secretary. I mean how obvious is that? It's like he's having a textbook mid-life crisis. That girl is only six years older than me. Six years! "

"I'm sorry, that must be horrible," I said in a slow, commiserating tone and Dana shrugged.

"My dad's disgusting," Dana grumbled, her cheeks flaring with heat, "Mom caught him in her bed."

Caroline snorted, drumming her manicured nails against the side of her empty coffee cup in a steady beat. "God, we get it, Dana. Men are disgusting."

"More than disgusting," Dana continued, obviously not noticing Caroline's derisive tone.

"My God," Caroline whispered as Dana continued with her 'cheating parents story'. I got a slight impression that Dana may have been bullied before. The way she flushed and nervously averted her eyes. The way she spoke in an self-taught arrogant way and the way she dismissed the things Caroline didn't care for, they were all text-book bullied preschooler signs. Every so often children who'd been bullied hid it beneath a thick layer of hostility.

"Erm, 'Lena?" Caroline suddenly said, cutting through Dana's continued story about her parents' divorce. She didn't look very sympathetic to her pained description of one of her parents' latest fights. "Stefan is looking at you. I think he wants to talk to you."

"He does?" I asked absentmindedly, following her pointed finger to the side of the car park, off to the left. Stefan was indeed there. Standing in the shadow of an enormous fir tree, arms crossed over his chest and hip cocked against the bonnet of his car. I almost groaned. I hadn't thought about Stefan's reaction to me accompanying Damon to the founder's party. "Great."

"He looks annoyed," Dana replied dryly and I gave her an annoyed look.

"It's his resting bitch face," I sarcastically replied.

"His resting bitch face?" Caroline sniggered and I shrugged.

"Yep." I agreed. "See you lot later." And with that, I jumped to my feet. Drawing my tongue along my lips, I clutched my jacket closer to my body in anticipation of what was to come. Moving closer, he slung his bag over his shoulder and tried for a smile. Tried being the keyword.

"Elena," he greeted.

"Stefan?" I tried, squinting at the way the sun was reflected off the windscreen of the car. Perhaps I'd imagined the moon's eyes during History. "Did you need something?"

"You and Damon," he started and for a moment I thought I noticed thin, almost unnoticeable spider veins pulsing around his veins. I stilled, my hands twitching. "What is going on between the two of you?"

"Nothing."

"What's going on between you and Damon?" He echoed harshly and I felt my face flush.

"Nothing!" I snapped back. There was a shiver of anger in the thrumming air and my cheek muscles ached from the strain of my jaws. Stefan looked ready to hurl something at my head and felt my shoulders tense. "Why would it be any of your business anyway?" I snapped and rubbed my temples several times, willing the headache building behind my eyes away. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Stefan."

"You don't understand. Damon is dangerous."

"That still doesn't mean you should get to tell me what I can and cannot do."

Stefan snorted. "Damon said something, didn't he? He likes to play games and cause trouble, Elena."

"This isn't about Damon, Stefan," I grumbled back. "This is about you not respecting my boundaries. Did I go to one dance with Damon? Yes, I did. Does that mean you get to give me crap about it? No, Stefan, it does not."

"I'm just worried," he replied defensively, "you mean quite a lot to me."

"Stefan, we're friends." I tried. "Just friends. I'm not planning on dating your brother."

"But—" Stefan started, looking ruffled, with the lack of a better word and I sniffed.

I wouldn't start dating Damon Salvatore, no more than I wanted to date him for that matter and I ground my jaws together. I curled my fingers tightly around the strap of my leather schoolbag. Besides, Damon Salvatore was hardly a suburban mother's dream boyfriend, nor was Stefan for that matter. Being vampires and all. I was still standing stiffly, probably looking very uncomfortable to all of the world and Stefan opened his mouth again.

"I didn't mean to overstep your boundaries," he tried explaining, "I just—" The shrill bell interrupted what he wanted to say next and in a rush of cursing under his breath, he turned away.

Beatific smile in place, I curled my tongue along my teeth. "I'm sorry, I have class. I see you later?"

"Sure," he muttered.

"Bye," I grumbled, curling my tongue along my teeth, I stepped past him and quickly made my way to the school building. My jaw slowly relaxed, even as I felt his gaze on me. His eyes following me, and I kept my eyes on the school building to avoid his glaring gaze, but it made me exceedingly nervous. Once inside, I reached for the pack of Tylenol in my schoolbag and popped two capsules out of the package and took them.

"He's so into you," Bonnie Bennett drawled, stepping up next to her.

"I'm not into him, though."

"I understand." She nodded.

"You do?

Bonnie fixed a smile on her face. "It's nothing."

"It is something," I remarked drolly and Bonnie fidgeted.

"It's stupid." She said as we pulled into the computer programming classroom.

"It's not."

Sitting down in the back of the classroom she twisted her fingers together, looking rather sick to the stomach. "When I touched him, I felt something bad."

"You felt something bad?" I echoed, feeling faintly amused. So she'd become witchy enough to pick up on his vampirism. "Is this a clairvoyant thing?"

"Witch thing," she corrected morosely and I smiled.

"I see. But you saw or felt something bad?"

"It's what I expect death to feel like," she breathed out and I licked my lips. Feeling my eyebrows furrow together, I curled my fingers tightly around the computer mouse. Did that mean, Bonnie would be able to pick up on me to if she were to touch me? It was an unwelcome thought and I stared at the screen monitor. However, Bonnie had touched me during cheer practice more than once, which would suggest she hadn't been able to pick up on me. Perhaps, she couldn't at all. It wasn't like I was death or some kind of supernatural being (except for being the Doppelgänger), but— I shook my head. If she picked up on me, I would cross that bridge when I got there.

The final lesson of the day passed similarly as History had, with me and Bonnie passing notes. It made for a far more interesting class than the actual lesson and did a fine job of keeping me distracted from the Jonas Martin problem. I considered trying the practice after my last class again, yet, as Bonnie kept to me like a barnacle to a boat, I reconsidered. Besides, I still had cheerleading practice.

Sunlight crept down the roofs of the houses, I pushed into the locker room to change for Cheerleading practice. The day had been long and I felt annoyed and irritated. Curling my fingers tightly around the strap of my leather bag. Caroline had been in her element, as she always was, twirling and grinning, bossing everyone around. Practising tumblers on the grass field, synchronizing our movements to the point of perfection, and learning to be 'a tad sexier' as Caroline called it, I was quickly tiring. My muscles were positively aching by the time practice ended. I dragged my feet over the earth, wincing guiltily when I noticed the dark muddy stains on the once-white cheer shoes. I guessed Miranda wouldn't like my shoes being ruined so close after purchasing them and robotically changed in the locker room.

The physical exhaustion was a welcome reprieve to my churning thoughts. Besides, there was little better than exhausted muscles after a good work out. Saying goodbye to both Bonnie and Caroline, I made my way to my car. When I reached the carpark next to the Grill, I gave a cursory glance up and down the street before unlocking the engine. You could never be too safe in Mystic Falls and I dropped in the driver's seat. Stretching my arms over the steering wheel, I squinted up at the sky, at the ruffled, multi-coloured, leafy tree cover.

The car park was flanked by full-grown trees, throwing dazzling strips of late afternoon light over the dark varnish of the car. The dirt on the windscreen shimmered and blurred in the warm orange sunlight. I had settled in when my cell phone rang. Searching for the BlackBerry, I fumbled with the old-fashioned buttons and answered the call. "Hello?"

"Miss Thomson?"

My breath got caught in my throat when I heard someone address me with my real name again and my fingers froze around the phone. "Yes?"

"What do you know about my daughter?"

"Mr. Martin?" I asked and, in case someone with super-hearing was listening in, started the car, bouncing my knee nervously. I had rehearsed my story carefully. Had watched my reflection as I forced out the 'how I know about your daughter' story, but now, for a moment, I drew a blank. Squeezing my eyes shut, I curled my fingers tightly around the wheel. "Jonas Martin?"

"Yes," he said condescendingly. "What do you know of my daughter? Do you know where she is?"

"It's a long story," I admitted and launched into the story I had rehearsed…

To be continued…

A/N: This chapter was so hard to write, I couldn't get it right. It might be revised at some point, however, I'm pleased enough by it. Like always leave a review! I'd love to hear from all of you!