A/N: hello everyone and welcome back! Here's chapter forty-eight

There are some legal matters discussed in this chapter. I want to make it clear, I have no training and little knowledge about the legal system, and if you need legal advice? Don't take it from this fanfic. Everything I got from Virginia's legal system, I got from the internet. Be warned.

As for the rest of the story, the next few chapters rely heavily on Jeremy and what's wrong with him, but also on non-Elena and her (future) relationships with the others. I hope you guys will enjoy^^

As for my update schedule, I expect a chapter every two weeks. Now that I've done some necessary research, we should be good in the upcoming few weeks^^

And, of course, to everyone who commented on this story, thank you for your kind words. I will get back to questions and thoughts tomorrow. As for now, enjoy the next chapter:)

o.O.o

Chapter Forty-Eight, Black Orchids

I'd gone out for a run. I had to. I had to get out of the house and have a fresh breath of air and a change of scenery. It was a gray morning, the sun a watery orb in the sky, filtering in and out behind a pall of clouds.

The morning chill needled my exposed skin and my top clung to my body. I ran along the outskirts of Mystic Falls, my hair flailing around me, past an empty sports field, the grass sprinkled with dew, and down a narrow footpath, towards the forest.

The trails there were muddy, thick, green trees growing over them in archways, but busy with cyclists, other joggers, and dog walkers. This early no one, recognized me, and that suited me just fine.

Jeremy had been charged with four counts of murder and one aggravated assault and attempted murder. It had been dreary, listening to a pathological examiner as he explained to John how samples of Jeremy's blood had been tested — to rule him out actually — against earlier evidence.

Imagine the surprise when they found a positive match. Not only did the unknown DNA belong to Jeremy, but apparently he was not Grayson's son either.

John had turned a ghostly pale when one of the policemen explained to him that Jeremy was not only a person of interest but also the son of Richard Lockwood—

And he'd gone crazy.

I hadn't even known he'd started wearing Grayson's ring— No, I had known. But I'd never thought to suspect Jeremy of murdering four people, much less his father.

I didn't get how I didn't notice that thing around his finger. Or perhaps, I did. You trusted the ones you cared for. The people living in the same house as you. You had to. That's what it meant to care for someone. You decide to trust them.

And although Jeremy was not my real brother, I had grown to care for him. I knew him. I hadn't thought he would ever—

I quickened my pace, heading deeper into the twisting forest. It was more untamed around here, trails overgrown and narrow and the grass licked at my ankles. My heartbeat felt almost painful in my chest and my face was hot.

I'd learned Jeremy only had waning lucid episodes where he cared and seemed horrified with the things he'd done, but from what I'd heard last evening (eavesdropping on the conversation Liz, some unnamed officer, and John had), most of the time Jeremy was unconcerned with anything other than punishing the unclean. Whatever, that meant, I had no idea.

However, I was quite sure, Jeremy had helped Mikael with his farce. He hadn't gone out and straightly admitted it, but I could read in-between the lines. When Mikael caused his untimely demise, Jeremy would come back. I just wasn't sure why!

I quickened my step until I was running at full speed, forcing my thoughts away. With every step, mud, which was thin from recent rain and dewy nights, flicked up the back of my calves, and prickles of something carved their way up my spine.

It felt good to run—

It felt wonderful to run and forget about everything. Even if it was just for a moment. And then I encountered a fallen tree, a monstrosity of splintered bark and mangled branches fallen across the path and I skidded to a halt, my feet slipping on the mud and with an undignified yelp, I fell. Hard.

"Fuck!"

Mud caked my back, my calves, and even my cheeks. Slowly, I sat up, yanking hard at my earpieces, and wiped my sleeve across my cheekbone.

"What the actual fuck!"

Movement caught my attention on the path far ahead, and my head swept up, a prickle of adrenaline already slicing up my spine. Pushing my knees beneath me, and probably saturating my leggings with mud even more, I craned my neck, peering out over the fallen tree. There was a figure further down the path, half obscured y trees and overgrown grass, and, he was staring at me. And even if he was not, my track record with things in Mystic Falls was less than stellar.

A muffled, ragged breath forced its way through my tightly clenched teeth and I scrambled up my feet. For a second I had a stare-down with the man, and then I turned around and ran hard in the direction I'd come from.

I was already imagining phantom hands grabbing at me, clawing fingers snagging in my hair, and I quickened my step until I felt as if my muscles would tear.

When I tore into the street, narrowly missing an elderly couple, I finally dared to check behind me. There was no one there. The old woman who I'd almost bumped into was clucking disapprovingly and I gave what I hoped looked like an apologetic smile as I crossed the road and leaned heavily against the fence, surrounding Mystic Park, fingers looping through the spidery network of the fence and breathed hard.

There was one coming out of the forest behind me, and several pedestrians had turned my way, looking at the disheveled teenage girl breathing hard and loud. I let out a hollow laugh.

I was going crazy—

Inhaling deeply, I moved towards the entrance of the park, preparing to take a shortcut through the green fields of Mystic Park, the grass sprinkled with dew when the air rushed ad I skidded to a stop as Elijah Mikaelson appeared in front of me like a premonition. He'd cut his hair since I'd last seen him and his skin looked healthier.

"Elijah!"

"Hello, Elena." He replied, his eyes flitting up and down my mud-covered form and I flushed.

"I fell," I said as a way of explanation, dots of sweat pearling on my forehead.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I reassured him and he gave me a curt nod. "Did you get rid of Mikael?"

"Niklaus handled him."

Was that code for 'found a White Oak stake and staked him'? I wasn't sure but nodded anyway. "Why are you looking for me?"

"I wished to check on you?"

I exhaled softly. I remembered that Elijah had a soft spot for the Doppelgängers. First Tatia and then Katerina. It made sense he would have a soft spot for me too. Again, I hated the face I had to share with so many others and crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm fine."

"Rebekah didn't try something?"

"Rebekah?" I echoed incredulously. "Why?"

"You can imagine how well she reacted to learning about our mother's death."

"Oh!"

His eyes flitted over me and his head cocked to the side. "Which you knew about."

"I— yeah, I did, I just, I didn't think about it."

"I see."

"Why would Rebekah come for me though?" I wanted to know. "It's not like we're close nor did I have anything to do with— oh. You mean she might want to get revenge by going after me?"

"That is what I expected, yes."

Skeletal fingers of dread crept up the back of my neck, "Well, I didn't see her."

"What more do you know?" He asked, eyes flashing and I couldn't seem to breathe properly.

I didn't think I consumed any vervain lately, nor was I sure I could fight off someone's compulsion again and my shoulders locked together. I felt as if I couldn't breathe properly and my mouth became a thin, irritated line. However, nothing inside me forced me to answer and after a few seconds, my muscles relaxed again.

"What do I know?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. Most of the things I knew about have happened differently because I chose to act differently." I answered honestly, yet still evasively. I wasn't sure what else I could tell him.

Biting my lip I thought about all that I knew about the Originals and what was to tell. I knew his oldest brother wanted to die.

I was pretty sure he would be aware of that tidbit of information. I could tell him about New Orleans and vampire ruler Marcel — that was his name, right — but that didn't seem like such a great idea either.

I thought there was something about some long-lost sister and the Trix trying to find a loophole to kill the Originals. I didn't even know if I was correct about that. I vaguely remembered having read something about them, although I knew not who the Trix were supposed to be (unless we talked about Winx Club) or why exactly they should want to end the Originals.

I realized Elijah had started to lead me down the path, through the park and hesitantly I checked behind me again. Still, the muddy path I'd come from was unoccupied and I rubbed my fingers over my temples. How totally hysterical I could get when my fantasy ran wild.

"Elijah?"

"Yes, Miss Gilbert,"

"Do you know someone called the Trix?"

I watched him freeze, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open. I'd never seen him look so ruffled by a question. "I— yes, I know of them."

"Oh, it's not a person?"

"No." He mumbled, his gaze fell to the muddy knees of my leggings and I shrugged.

"I fell," I mumbled again.

The sun yawned sluggishly into the sky, behind a pall of collecting dark clouds and the slight change in temperature needled my exposed skin. I crossed my arms over my chest, dragging my feet along the path, and waited for Elijah to say something, anything.

"I heard about your brother."

"What, is Klaus afraid I will turn into some Jackal and Hide hunter as well?"

"No," Elijah answered, his lips quirking. "He seems to be under the impression you needed some time to get over this little tiff."

"Your brother is a weirdo." I decided.

"What about the Trix, Elena?"

"I think you somehow wronged them. Or Klaus wronged them, I can't say I would put it past him." I said diplomatically. "I don't know. I think they want to exact some sort of vengeance. I think they are looking for a way to kill an Original?" I continued, not meaning to make the last sentence sound like a question, yet it evidently was.

"And here you said that killing an original meant killing its entire sire line."

"Yeah, I never said it made much sense," I admitted.

We'd reached the end of the park and I was only a block away from my home. It had started to drizzle again and I unbound the sleeves of my hoodie from my waist, pulling it over my head, and pulled up the hood. I probably looked even more ridiculous this way.

"Can I ask you something now?"

"Sure,"

"Do you know anyone, a witch or a warlock, who would know more about curses?"

"For your brother?"

I nodded, waiting for the inevitable question as to why, but to his credit, Elijah didn't ask. He looked thoughtful and then cocked his head to the side. "I will ask around."

I gave him a grateful smile, "Thank you."

He was gone the next moment and I stared after him for a moment. The drizzle hardened into rain, instantly battering me, and with a gasp I pushed forward again, pulling my hood tightly around my face. I raced home, never this happy to see the Gilbert house. Jenna's red Mini Cooper was in the driveway, as was John's gray Volvo, but what surprised me, was the sleek black Mercedes parked by the curb.

Staring at the Charlottesville's number plates, I nudged the gate open. I was quite sure I'd never seen that car before around here and I grabbed my bicep, rolling my shoulders forward in a half-hug. The path up to the house was sodden, the rain pooling fast, and the lights in the kitchen were on.

I moved quickly to the front door. I was breathing hard, climbing up the stairs of the porch, and pushed inside the house. Wet footprints tracked inside and I pushed water out of my eyes, toeing off my muddy shoes.

The sound of the rain hitting the side of the house and the roof was almost deafening and I moved further inside, wiping my arm along my damp forehead. I'd already started to ascend the stairs when soft voices echoed from the kitchen ahead, snippets of odd conversation filtering through the hallway and I followed the voices.

"—much bail will be set on?"

"I can't say for sure," an unfamiliar voice replied. "The judge will set bail on the first court sitting. There is a chance that he will deny bail altogether since they might consider Jeremy a danger. However, I expect it will be more than $1 million dollar."

"God damn!"

I pushed inside the kitchen and took in the scenery. John and an unfamiliar man were seated around the kitchen table. Papers spread across the table, John's laptop in between them, the screen throwing a bluish light over their skin and both turned my way when I stepped inside.

"What's going on?"

"Elena," John greeted. He looked older and tired and I felt the stirrings of pity begin to form at the pit of my stomach. The wrongness of it all sent a prickle of tingles into my fingertips. He looked at my muddy appearance and tried (and failed) to smile. "You're back."

"Yeah," I agreed, my eyes flitting over the shark-like man sitting at our kitchen table. "Who—"

"Oh, right, that's Clay Simmons, Jeremy's attorney."

I sucked my bottom lip and exhaled through my nose. "I see."

John turned to the attorney and waved at me, "That's Elena, my— niece."

"Pleasure," I greeted belatedly and the man gave me a quick nod.

"We were discussing strategies." He explained when John didn't.

"What is the strategy?"

"The insanity defense would be the wisest course of action. The police doctor expects a mental disorder. Psychosis, to be precise and the responsibility of his crimes will be lessened due to a temporary mental state."

"So he'll be considered as crazy?" John wanted to know.

"He'll be punished, yes, but he'll be able to live some of his life outside of prison."

"So use psychosis as a defense?" I asked, lower lip sucked between my teeth. "And when supposedly treated he could resume his life?"

"In a way," Clay agreed before his expression turned strict. "Don't you believe the psychosis story?"

"I don't see a different reason why else Jeremy would go berserk," I muttered.

Technically, aside from the rock of a ring making people insane, a vampire could have compelled him to do all those heinous crimes. Both excuses were unusable against the attorney though and I averted my eyes, mouth pressed in a thin line.

"Elena, why don't you go upstairs, and help Jenna pack some things for Jeremy?"

I grimaced. Hidden meaning — I don't want you involved with the grown-up things — received. Loud and clear. I considered arguing, but John looked so tired and worn, I relented.

Giving him a curt nod, I turned around and left the kitchen. I rubbed my hands together in an effort to warm them and turned to the stairs, this time ascending them wholly.

I could hear Jenna mumbling under her breath, the sound of a zipper being done up or down and I turning to the partly opened door to Jeremy's bedroom. Jenna had her back to me, packing what looked like Jeremy's clothes and I rapped my knuckles on the door stepping inside.

"Hey!"

"Oh hi, Elena, how was your run?"

"Fine-ish," I answered as lightly as possible. "I fell, but I'm okay."

She turned towards me, her eyes flitting over my mud-covered form, "Oh!"

"I'll clean myself up first, but I can help you then."

Jenna gave a long-suffering sigh, twirling around and flopping back on Jeremy's made bed. Her stack of clothes swayed dangerously but remained neatly packed and piled up on the edge of the bed. "Is John still downstairs with the attorney?"

"They are discussing Jeremy's defense," I answered, tapping my fingers against the door jamb.

"Well, that's good."

"It is!" I agreed. "Hold on, I'll change into something else."

And I did. Moving into the adjoined bathroom, I shimmied out of my leggings and hoodie and cleaned the mud up. When I reemerged into Jeremy's room, Jenna was still sitting on Jeremy's bed, and I dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of her.

Lodging my hands between my calves and upper legs, I let my eyes glide over Jenna's face. She too looked drawn but I knew she had been rather open-minded. Jenna from the series was strong, even if she herself didn't think she was and I arched a skeptic eyebrow. I could confide in her. I could confide in her about the ring. Not only could she be my buffer, but I thought she would be on my side.

"Aunt Jenna, you know right?" I asked. "About the vampires?"

"Yes," she agreed. "John likes to keep me out of it, but he had to explain the basics to me after—" She gave me a hard look and for one glorious second I didn't know what she meant. It didn't last.

"Right, Elijah," I admitted. "I'm sorry about that."

Jenna pursed her lips. "At first I was upset with you. But I understood eventually."

Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I drew my legs beneath me and leaned forward. "Anyway, you know about the Gilbert journals, right?"

"Yes," she agreed.

"Okay, so there is a lot of important information in them."

She snorted. "Elena, honey, your family, even if they were right about the vampire parts, most of them went crazy in the end."

"I know. I know why too." I explained and rolled my tongue along my lips. "We might want to find Samantha Gilbert's journal. She went crazy too. It has something to do with the Gilbert ring. I know it sounds ridiculous—"

"Sweetie, everything I've heard lately sounds ridiculous. This sounds almost normal, but you really have to explain this to me. What ring?"

I inhaled deeply and proceeded to summarize how the Gilbert ring worked, where they got it (with some half-hearted excuse of Bonnie's ancestry), and how it supposedly worked. I even included my suspicions of Mikael and Jeremy working together at some point and Jenna listened attentively. Her face lost all color by the time I started to recount Samantha's slow descent into madness and even her lips were leeched off their usual pink color once I told her about the stint into an Alyssum.

"It's on the internet too."

I wasn't sure if it was, but I could always claim I had read it somewhere, and couldn't find it afterward. Besides, I knew Doctor Meredith Fell had one of the Gilbert journals.

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I've asked Elijah—" Jenna's face turned angry, "—I know, but I think he can help. He has a millennium on us. Chances are he knows someone that can help us."

"And your boyfriend?"

"My what now?"

"Erm— Nik?"

I snorted, a laugh bubbling up from my throat. "Oh my God, no!" I snorted again. "He's not my boyfriend."

Jenna was silent, and I felt as if she wanted me to say more. Swallowing the next bubble of laughs, the urge to let out a pearl of hysterical laughter, I made my voice stay low, calm, and gentle. "We're friends— and I use that term lightly, Aunt Jenna."

"Does he know that, Elena?"

"Yeah, I mean, he just likes to rub people the wrong way," I muttered.

"No," she shook her head and I shrugged. "You didn't see him when that man had taken you."

There was a long, laden silence and I wasn't sure what I should say next, but I was sure didn't care for me as a person. Klaus cared for the walking, talking blood bag. The moment I ceased to be useful— I was sure I didn't want to find out. Gripping my knees, I curled my toes into the carpet and crossed my arms over my chest. "I know John doesn't want me involved."

"John doesn't want either of us involved."

"Well," I started, smiling slightly, "Then he's in for some disappointment, isn't he?"

Her smile was small and hesitant. "You won't let this go, will you?"

I shook my head. "Of course, not."

To be continued...

A/N: and that concludes chapter forty-eight. Like always, let me know what you guys think. I love to hear your thoughts^^ Any guesses about what's coming? I'd love to know what everyone thinks, or more importantly why Jeremy is the way he is.

Lots of Love,

Anna.