o.O.o

Chapter Thirty-Nine, Flowers by the Wayside

As the sun rose over Mystic Falls, I turned around in my bed, peering out from under my comforter. The slightly luminous hands of the alarm clock were slowly ticking across the numbers and it was barely even half-past four. It was a Wednesday, and until my SAT scores would be available (and if I'd passed them of course), I would still have to attend High School.

High School which would start today with a math test. I wondered, had I really been a high school teenager, would I be worried about that test? Would I worry about falling asleep on my desk?

I tried to remember what I'd felt at that age, even though it certainly wasn't that long ago, but I just couldn't— Teenage me didn't have the problems teenage Elena did.

I snorted, rolling over onto my back. It had taken a while but since the last few months, I'd fully integrated into High School again, having gotten the hang of my classes, the teachers and even my classmates. The days were monotonously, there was a certain easiness to that, but I was managing.

When I'd originally gone to High School, I treated it differently. I'd left my homework piling up in my room, would forget tests until the last moment and had gone through sleepless nights more often than I'd cared to admit.

I would worry about my grades, I would, but I only changed my ways in my senior year. And I only changed them because I had to get into a good college.

Pushing my fingers through my bangs, I crossed my legs at the ankles and stared at the slanted ceiling above before letting them slide over to the dark carry-on bag and the trolley. My bags were packed, the tickets out of the state of Virginia purchased and I only needed my results before I was truly ready to go.

Uncle John had been surprisingly easy to convince. Surprisingly easy to persuade to let me go and find a university and keep my location hidden from anyone.

I supposed that he'd realized I was running — perhaps that had something to do with Isobel (thank God she hadn't made an entrance yet) — and I knew that by running, inadvertently, I'd only be enticing the chase, but…

I wanted to get out of the death trap that was Mystic Falls. Klaus would be troublesome enough to deal with on his own. I didn't need all that Mystic Falls supernatural crab with it.

Till now, I could honestly say that everything I'd tried to change had either changed for the worse (ahem, Bonnie), or had changed to make events start a little differently, but instead had ended just like it had in the series (ahem Caroline turning into a vampire). A change of scenery would give me a chance to not only be myself, but also to leave Mystic Falls and everything that would happen there, behind me.

Was it selfish? Yes, but I somewhat thought that problem seekers like Damon and Stefan might leave as well, once I did.

Somehow in the series, Elena had been the spiel that kept everything together. Without her — me — they might consider it time to go as well. Or I hoped so. I wasn't sure what happened after season 4, but I knew there were a group of witches or warlocks who wanted Elena, and Stefan I thought, for— well, something.

I hadn't acknowledged that yet— For I did not know who they were or what they looked like. I thought of Caroline next. Even if she wanted to stay in Mystic Falls, how long could she without growing up, without aging? People were bound to notice. Wasn't that the reason Stefan and Damon came and went? And even if the show would gloss over that little detail (the not aging one), this universe was, in many ways, very real.

Groaning again, I rolled onto my stomach and hugged my pillow to my cheek, staring at the clock on the nightstand (again). I squeezed my eyes shut, forcefully counting the seconds as they ticked by. Somehow, I must have fallen asleep because at some point I came awake to the screeching sound of my alarm clock.

When I woke up, I couldn't feel my legs. My head felt muggy, heavy and my eyelids were glued together. Distantly, I was aware of a sharp, chirping tone and flailed uselessly around to stop the alarm clock.

The back of my hand hit the clock and it toppled onto the wooden floor with a loud thud, effectively stopping it insistent ringing and waking me up rather abruptly.

Groaning, I pushed myself up on my elbows and tucked a loose curl behind my ear. The room spun and I thought that I might have felt better, had I not slept at all.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stood and stretched, twisting my neck in an effort to ease the stiffness from my muscles. The wooden panels felt cold beneath my feet and my legs felt unsteady when I crossed the room, pushing the curtains open.

It was a bright and sunny day and I raked my fingers through my tousled hair. The road was quiet. Then again, these suburban streets were always so very quiet in the morning.

The morning sunshine was warm and orange, glinting sharply off every car bonnet and wing mirror parked in the street. It really was a beautiful morning.

I made my way to the bathroom. Cutting my morning ritual short, I washed my face and slipped on a pair of jeans with a simple light-blue T-shirt and a black jacket.

It had been almost a year since I'd got stuck in Elena's body and when I looked into the mirror, I no longer saw Nina Dobrev's face staring back at me. I was no longer uncomfortable in her skin — although ever so often I was uncomfortable with her life — and combed the knots out of my hair. With how short it was now, barely even reaching my chin, it was a surprise how tangled it became.

"Oh," Jeremy's voice started and I pushed back from the mirror, "you're up."

"Am I not always at this time?" I asked, forgoing my fight with my tangled hair.

"I suppose," he answered uncaringly.

I bit my lip and pushed a blue hairband into my hair. "So how are you doing?"

"Fine." He answered curtly.

"Okay then," I mumbled and moved towards my room again.

"Elena?"

The brass doorknob was cold against my palm as I turned to face Elena's little brother again. He had grown a bit, shoulders broader, arms stronger, new muscles straining against the material of his shirt. My eyes flitted to his hands.

He wore Grayson's ring now. Meeting his eyes again — they were cold, still numb — I realized he was still waiting for me to say something. "What is it?"

"You and that Salvatore— Stefan, are you two—?"

"Erm no." I laughed. "There is no me and Stefan."

Besides, Stefan had taken to avoiding me. I thought he'd finally gotten the hint that I wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship with him. As was Caroline—

"Good," Jeremy mumbled, and stepped forward, shutting the door in my face.

"Okay, nice talk, Jer," I grumbled and made my way out of my bedroom.

The floorboards creaked beneath my feet and for a moment I couldn't shake the sense of foreboding. There's a visceral gnawing rage in Elena's teenage brother that somehow felt uncontrollable.

It wasn't strange I supposed, it had been there in the show as well, but I just didn't know what to do about it. Jeremy had been— disagreeable in the show as well, and as far as I'd known Elena's involvements had only made it worse.

Trying to curb his bad habits had blown up into her face several times.

Me trying to get him to talk to me didn't seem it would wield better results. After all, I was the one who'd hatched up the plan to have his memories modified last winter when I'd tried to strike a deal with Klaus.

Perhaps, I should ask Jenna or John to talk to him? Or perhaps Jeremy should see a therapist? You'd think after having a parent murdered that was the appropriate reaction. You'd think having both parents drive off Wickery Bridge that would be the appropriate reaction— Perhaps—

Pushing into the kitchen and froze at the sight of Jenna's and Alaric's fused forms. He had his hand up her shirt while Jenna had one leg slanted over Alaric's hip and my mouth opened in a shocked 'O'.

"Erm—"

They jumped apart as if burned and I watched Jenna's face flush scarlet. "Elena—"

"Erm, morning?"

"Yes," she muttered, pushing a lock of strawberry colored hair out of her face, "morning."

"A good one, it seems," I remarked awkwardly.

Jenna laughed loudly and boisterously and I watched Alaric's face turn a color that resembled purple. I stood frozen at the door opening, before shaking my head and crossing the kitchen to the counter.

Jenna turned to open the blinds aggressively, her face still reddening, before disappearing in a flurry of awkwardness.

Alaric caught on almost half a minute later — now resembling something that could die of oxygen shortage — and followed his girlfriend in the walk of shame, blundering out like a blind horse. I heard him run into the door too before starting to climb the stairs, and I laughed.

Aunt Jenna and Elena had been close. I'd known that from the moment she called me Kid with a smile and drove me over to Matt Donovan's house, but after agreeing with John on Miranda's rehab, she'd been distant to me.

She would smile and talk to me, she'd place a cup of coffee in front of me or asked me about my day, but her eyes lacked a certain warmth. I shouldn't have been feeling hurt over it, yet, her carefree behavior towards me, made me feel welcome and less intrusive than I'd felt about other parts of this family—

I could honestly say, I missed the warmth of her friendship a bit. However, with John winning the custody battle, the judge ruling it in the best interest of the children — 'excuse me, I am not a child,' Jermey had muttered, but the judge had waved his concerns away — she didn't come by as often as she used to before.

Then again, perhaps it was better. It would make the transition from little-High-School-going-niece to college-girl-niece easier.

I reached for a loaf of bread, absentmindedly listening to the sounds upstairs. The smell of freshly brewed coffee made my mouth water and I had just reached for the coffee pot, my other hand fisting a the kitchen knife I'd used to drown my sandwich in, when the door to the kitchen opened noisily.

My scream died in my throat, and my knife scarped against the glass of the mayonnaise jar, clinking awkwardly loud as John Gilbert stepped up next to me.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"That's okay," I muttered, dropping the knife to my plate, licking the mayonnaise from my thumb.

"Fun at Jenna's and her friend's expense?" He asked, his tone laced with slight confusion. As if he somehow couldn't come to terms with the idea of Jenna having a boyfriend. I wondered if it was some unaware part of John that considered Jenna something from his past, and couldn't cope well with the idea of someone else moving in on her. It seemed a little bit hypocritical of him, but I didn't comment on it.

"If they wanted privacy they should have used Jenna's room in the first place," I drolly replied, "I mean what if I interrupted them in the moment supreme? I would have been scarred for life." Snorting, I reached for the coffee pot again. "I would have needed a therapist too…"

"Too?" John echoed. He never seemed to know how to act around me. Perhaps something from deep within told him that I wasn't the daughter he'd seen being born.

"Jeremy isn't doing well, Uncle John." I explained, popping the last bit of bread into my mouth.

"I'm aware," he admitted.

I chewed on my bottom lip. "Than why isn't something done about it? He lost his dad. Lost his way. He's so frigid a freezer is a sunnier place to be around at this point.

Giving him space— by God, that won't work. He needs professional help, just as Miranda did, does, honestly. I don't think he has to be hospitalized, but I do think he needs help."

"Your brother doesn't want help."

"Nor did Miranda— why are you so unwilling to help him?"

"Not unwilling, Elena," John corrected.

"Fine, not unwilling, so why not?" I said brusquely.

"Elena, there are things you don't understand," he said, his tone unexpectedly gentle.

"I'm sure there is a lot I don't understand," I remarked softly. "How can I if I'm not informed?"

John sighed tiredly. "Not everything about what happens is child friendly."

"Child friendly," I laughed faintly, humorlessly, "interesting concept, but— I'm not a child. I haven't been a child for months. Why do you think I've taken my SAT's? Honestly, Uncle John, stop treating my like I can't handle things. I can. So please— stop hiding things from me."

"I'm your father, just, let me protect you…" John whispered and I inhaled sharply.

"Keeping someone in the dark, is not always protecting someone."

I frowned. Which was something I continuously did, keeping the people around me in the dark. I supposed it was hypocritical to expect people to keep me informed when I didn't extend them that same curtesy. Rubbing my fingers over my face, I turned to the counter.

"No, it's not, but as long as I don't know who did what, I'm not really keeping anything from you."

"So they still don't have any suspects?" I asked.

"Oh there are suspects the plenty, just— the evidence doesn't stick."

I slowly turned towards John again. "What evidence do they have?"

"DNA, Elena. They found DNA under Grayson's fingernails."

"And it wasn't in the system?"

"No," he looked visibly shaken and I tried to give him a smile, "but they found a familial match."

"So they know which family—"

"Yes," he admitted.

I frowned. "Than who?"

"The DNA which they found shares genes with Richard Lockwood."

"Lockwood? As in Tyler Lockwood?" I asked and frowned, considering Mason would share Richard Lockwood's DNA too.

"Yes, a brother," John breathed out. "Tyler's brother."

Blinking, I snorted. I couldn't help it. "Tyler doesn't have a brother."

"That's the thing Elena, he shouldn't have one, but DNA doesn't lie."

"Than who?"

"They don't know." John explained stepping up next to me. I hadn't noticed how tired he looked, but with fresh rays of sunlight slanting through the window, the bags under his eyes were even more pronounced. "If they did, don't you think they would have arrested this person by now?"

"How can they not know? Doesn't Richard— Mr. Lockwood, doesn't he know who he slept with?" I asked and I wished I could have kicked myself.

God, I shouldn't have stopped watching this show. Curling my fingers so tightly around the kitchenknife, I felt a twinge of pain. A small drop of blood welled up from my index finger, but I chose to ignore it.

"Elena, Richard was not a faithful man. He doesn't know who he might—"

"Have gotten pregnant. Some A+ father material that is," I remarked irritably. "I'm impressed this isn't common knowledge already— No, actually I'm not impressed. I take it the council chose to burry this bit of information, didn't they?"

"Mayor Lockwood himself demanded it."

"Of course, he did."

"I'm sorry, Elena. I don't have anything more." He whispered and I pressed my fingers against my lips. He left not long after that and I made myself a scalding cup of tea to wash away the horrible taste in my mouth. It didn't work much.

My SAT scores arrived three weeks later — the investigation into Grayson's death had hit rock bottom — and the scores where better than I could have hoped for.

I was on my way home, the day had been bright and sunny and the temperatures were higher than even a Virginia April day warranted. The sun hung low in the sky and sweat was accumulating at my hairline, rolling to the valley between my breast, and my breathing was loud, tired.

Moving my damp hair away from the back of my neck, I climbed the steep lane, leading up to Washington Street. The clocktower's triangular spine of the roof gleamed in the afternoon sun and the shopping street was rather busy, people bustling up and down the lane.

Matt Donovan was wiping tables in front of the Mystic Grill, he didn't see me, and Jeremy Gilbert was leaning against the wall, next to the door leading inside. He didn't seem to notice me either.

I bit my lip, curling my fingers tightly around the strap of my schoolbag. The leather creaked loudly in protest.

Elena's little brother was still not doing good. Although, I would have forced the subject if I could, John didn't invite a psychologist to talk to Jeremy, nor did he take him apart to talk things through.

No, instead, he seemed to think giving Elena Gilbert's younger brother some space and quiet would do the trick. I didn't think it worked like that. I didn't think some space was miraculously going to fix Jeremy Gilbert after his father was murdered and his mother had somewhat lost the plot.

Besides, when one lived in a world where supernatural entities were not just metaphors for weirdo's or some kind of odd Starbucks drink, how should someone deal with all of this, without withdrawing? And withdrawing, he did.

I'd watched him retreat in himself, reading through the Gilbert ancestor journals or scribbling down notes about God-only-knew-what and draw in some dark-leathered notebook.

When I'd tried to take a peek over his shoulder — observations and detailed transcription and drawings of a thorough research on what I assumed was all about vampires — he'd gotten furious. I hadn't tried again after that.

Averting my eyes, I lowered my head and quickened my pace. Jeremy and I hadn't recovered the bond he'd shared with his real sister, so I truly had no idea what I should say or do.

All that I knew came from either stories I'd heard the past few months or I'd learned from the original series and I wasn't sure I how I could help. Jeremy Gilbert was an actual person in this universe, not the fictional character played by Steven McQueen.

Puffing my cheeks up, I pushed my hair out of my face. Real people couldn't be solved as fictional characters undoubtedly could—

When I came home, the day was drawing to a close and the bright natural light had changed to a warm orange glow.

The skin on my face felt sore, pained, as if I might have gotten a sunburn. Licking my lips, I let myself inside, the door creaking nosily.

I hadn't even made it halfway down the hall when John came out of the kitchen to meet me.

"Elena!"

"Oh, hi!"

He grinned at me and I felt my face mirror his expression. "Did they come?"

"Yes, they did!" He agreed, waving a large envelop in front of me. "You should be happy Jenna isn't here. She would have opened this, no matter if you were home or if you weren't."

"I'm surprised you didn't."

"I respect your privacy."

I snorted at that, "Right," and opened the letter aggressively. My fingers stilled when they encountered the folded parchment inside. What if it was bad? What if I had failed?

"It's going to be fine," John slowly whispered, probably noticing the sudden worry lines in my face.

"What if it isn't?"

"Then you can take these tests again, can you not?"

I wetted my lips, index- and middle finger still holding on to the letter inside the envelope. "That doesn't mean I'll pass them the next time."

"Elena, you're acting as if you've failed them already."

"It's better to assume the worst."

"Elena!"

I made a low sound in the back of my throat and nodded, hooking my index finger into the envelope. "Yes, yes, I'll open it. I'll open it!" I mumbled and ripped the letter free.

A corner tore off in my haste and I stepped close to John, so he could read along over my shoulder. My breath hitched in my throat. I'd passed them— Hell, I had done much better than I'd expected.

I wasn't some whizkid, but damn, I'd passed. I'd 'met the benchmark' and the letter in my hands started to tremble.

"Holy shit!" I shrieked and John flinched. "Holy Fucking Shit!"

"You passed?"

"Yes, I passed!"

"You did," he mumbled and squinted at the paper in my hands again and blindly grabbled for it, yanking it from my grip and scanned over its contents.

I was already considering my college applications. I'd spent hours pouring over those at the Gilberts' kitchen counter or even at the library and now I could use the scores. Excitement laced through my bloodstream and I danced through the hallway, hugging the empty envelope against my chest.

"Perhaps we could have dinner this evening?"

"Or takeaway?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

"You still haven't told anyone about this?"

I hadn't. Outside of the residents living in the Gilbert house, I hadn't told anyone. I hadn't known what to say to Bonnie or Caroline. Although the first had left town with her father and Enzo — I guessed mostly Enzo if her postcards were anything to go by — and Caroline was avoiding me.

"—Elena?"

"Oh, no, I haven't." I murmured. The natural light from the high-set windows changing to an orange glow as sunset drew closer. It made John look older, tireder, and I smiled at him. "I didn't get to it, I guess."

"Are you fighting with your friends?" He asked.

"No," I considered my next words carefully. "Both Bonnie and Caroline needed some space."

"I see."

"So, takeaway?"

"Takeaway it is."

I nodded and almost danced towards the living room. I had several calls to make, some strings to pull and I yanked out my phone scrolling through my contacts until I found the number from the friendly secretary at Yale who'd promised me a guided tour and I wanted to take her up on her offer now that my tests came back.

Dinner that evening was pleasant. It was still glowing outside even though the sun had gone down and we ordered pizza, which we ate in the living room. Jeremy sat at the foot of the large loveseat near the window while I sat crossed-legged at the other side, peeling slices of pepperoni off of my pizza. I was listening absentmindedly to Jenna going on about the campus of Whitmore college.

"I'm applying for college upcoming September," I remarked loudly interrupting Jenna suddenly.

"What?" Jenna mumbled, cheese sticking to her chin.

I inhaled deeply and licked my lips, "I've taken my SAT tests and they were better than I could hope for. I'm going to apply for college."

"Why?" Jeremy asked, slipping his phone back into the pocket of his jeans.

"Why college, or why now?"

"Both."

"Because, Jer, I turn eighteen in two months. I'm the oldest in the year and quite frankly, I want to go on with my life. Don't you?"

"No, I know my place in this town," he replied, his voice deceptively detached.

"Right, very noble." I mumbled and gave John a pointed look.

He cleared his throat, "Jeremy, going to college is a good thing."

Jeremy snorted, "Being here to fix this town is a good thing too. But, of course, you'd think I'm not stable enough for that, right 'Lena?" He said, the comment accompanied by finger-quotation marks and Jeremy flashed me a small, empty smile. I settled for a roll of the eyes.

"Of course, that is impressive of you," John agreed, "but studying for your future is impressive too."

I nodded in agreement. Jeremy only shrugged, plucked his mobile from his pocket and started texting again. I let out a loud sigh. Jenna found her voice a moment later.

"Why am I only hearing this just now?"

"I wanted to tell if I'd managed with the SAT tests," I decided.

"That's why we have this dinner," John agreed.

Jenna frowned, "We eat takeaway at least once a week."

"Fair point," I admitted and took another bite. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"No— It's okay," Jenna mumbled.

I didn't think she really thought it was. I swallowed and averted my eyes. I couldn't play a role— the character of a girl long gone, forever, but— I did feel bad. "I really am very sorry, Aunt Jenna."

"It's fine. You're just— you're not a little girl anymore."

"That's the thing isn't it?" I smiled. Children grow up."

"That they do." She agreed.

The rest of dinner was filled with innocuous chatter and pleasant niceties. Even Jeremy's mood seemed to lighten somewhat. I slept well that evening, as did I the next few, days passing in a blur of college applications and calls. I scheduled a visit to Yale, laughed on the phone with the friendly secretary and considered Duke and Blacksburg. All was well for a while—

Until, it wasn't—

The gentle warmth of April gave away to the humidity of May and I woke up to a house that smelled like eggs and bacon.

It was a Saturday, and I knew with certainty Jeremy wouldn't be home, having taken a job at the Grill (which hadn't been his choice, but I thought he did like the money), and Jenna Sommers couldn't fix herself an omelet without letting the smoke detectors go off, which made my eyebrows furrow.

Licking dry lips, I threw back the covers. The earphones I'd used the evening before to listen to some music slipped mutely to the wooden floor and I moved to the edge of the bed.

Gasping as my bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor, I stumble-dashed to my chair, ruffling through a heap of clothes near my closet and drew a long vest around me, dropped my phone in my pocket, before wobbling out of the room, following the mouthwatering smell of toast and eggs.

Perhaps John was home earlier than he'd expected, having left to settle some juridical matter, and wanted a father-daughter-breakfast. Honestly, with how it smelled, it was fine with me.

A pleased, languid smile had turned up the corners of my lips, when I stepped into the kitchen, but there was no John. Perhaps aunt Jenna had invited Alaric? He'd been able to prepare a decent meal when he'd stayed over several weeks ago.

However, looking at the kitchen mess, or the lack thereof, made me think Jenna must have invited someone else. I was sure she had friends— even though I could not name a single one of them, and my eyes were drawn to the mug of freshly made tea on the kitchen table, and the half read newspaper half next to it.

The counter was gleaming and a pan was sizzling on the stove. The coffee machine was purring happily and I crossed the kitchen and watched the bacon sizzle with a small smile.

"Hello Luv,"

The morning light turned his blond hair into ripples of molten gold and my face lost all color. I almost felt faint and took a shaky step back, my back hitting the door jamb. "No!"

He smiled. It was disconcerting and a fine trembling started in my shoulders. This was too soon— Much too soon. I wasn't ready yet. I had wanted to be at the other end of the continent. I'd hoped I could have gotten out of Mystic Falls at the very least and my throat felt raw and itchy.

"Klaus—"

(To be continued….)

A/N: for those of you, and there were several of you who wondered when the fuck he'd return, here Klaus is. In all his annoyed and slightly pissed glory. And, as was to be expected, I leave you all with a little cliffhanger. I'm sorry, sort of, but with what I have in store for you, it was the right point to end it at.

As for my update schedule, I guess some of you were wondering what happened to my nice schedule, and I'm sorry. My mom had several not so pleasant tests in the hospital and honestly I don't know yet what it all means. On better note, I do have several chapters prewritten already, but checking them and beta-ing myself takes some time, so— I'm sorry.

Anyway, with that said, I'd like to give my usual thank you to everyone for all your love, your comments and you following this story—truly, I wouldn't be here without you. You guys make this journey so much more worthwhile and while I will strive to keep to my update schedule; a chapter ever Friday or Saturday, for now I can't make hard promises.

Either way, I'm very curious what you all make from this. This chapter shed some more light to the new familial situation, and Jeremy's dip in depression. I hope I write John well. To be honest, besides him being somewhat of an arsehole, I felt like he was never really fleshed out, so I'm never sure if he acts the way he should act. As for Jenna, keep in mind she's still somewhat the party girl pre-the-Wickery-bridge accident in canon, so for that matter, she's hard to write as well.

And, I'll leave you all now. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and as always, I love to receive your thoughts. After all, it's reviews that often show me my errors but also make me so excited to write this story!

On a different note, I was asked to write about Stranger Things. I'm not going to lie. I like Stranger things and my friend's idea of a self-insert story does sound good, but I'm not totally sold about it either. Any thoughts about that?

Lots of Love,

Anna