22|ISOBEL

I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun—

Gemma groans loudly whenever a shrill ringing interrupts her reading, her chest falling with a heavy exhale as she tosses Pride and Prejudice to the side to dig the device out of the crevices of the couch. When she finally gets her hands on it, her annoyance rises, seeing as it's not even her phone that was ringing. The phone displays a bright Elena Gilbert calling across the screen and she sighs, pressing the accept call button. "Something I can help you with, miss Gilbert?"

"Gemma?" The human questions, her tone confused. "I thought I called Stefan's phone."

"You did," Gemma tells her. "I have no idea where he is and I was the closest to it, so..."

"I'm supposed to help build the Miss Mystic float for the Founder's Day parade. If I don't, I get the wrath of Caroline, but I wanted to check in first."

Gemma glances up whenever Damon waltzes into the living room, his usual smug demeanor gracing his features. He smirks at the sight of the female Salvatore on the phone, even going as far as wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"We're all doing so great, being undead and all that, thanks for asking. So very kind of you, really, bye bye no—"

"Checking in on Stefan, Gemma." Elena cuts her off, inpatient.

"I regret to inform you that Stefan's back to being himself," Gemma says mournfully. "I'm afraid you won't see any slaughtered villages in your lifetime, peach."

"What?"

"Nothing, anyway, the point stands. He's boring, straight-laced, off the junk. You've successfully cured him of anything that'll ever remotely make him resemble being Damon and I's sibling."

"Don't forget who helped me."

"Certainly not me," Gemma reminds her. "You and Damon were the ones who shot him up with vervain and threw him in the cellar. I just watched."

"Hey," Damon waves at Gemma and motions for her to hand him the phone. She does so, skeptically, and watches him with raised eyebrows. "Did Uncle John mention anything to you about my field trip with the history teacher?"

"No," Elena replies. "I'm still avoiding him. Why? What's he been up to?"

"I don't know, but I'd love if you could find out for me."

"I've got to go," Elena brushes him off. "I'm late."

"Have fun with the Mystic queen, I know I did." Damon ends the call abruptly after that, shrugging his shoulders at Gemma's incredulous stare.

"You're a horrible person," she says.

"It is what it is."

"Until it isn't."

Damon rolls his eyes and tosses the phone to Stefan who had walked into the room a few seconds prior to the phone call ending. "Elena called," he informs him, brushing past the youngest Salvatore.

Gemma grabs her book and clutches it to her side as she stands from the couch, flashing Stefan a tight smile as she tries to do the same as Damon. The boy doesn't let her get far, latching onto her upper arm and gently pulling her back as if to trap her under his steely gaze. "Yes?" She urges, itching to escape the Boarding House.

"What you said, about wanting to die—"

"I never said I wanted to die, I said death is freedom. Two different things, brother."

He squints, "is it though?"

"Don't make me go into a detailed explanation about  it," she blinks. "I've already had to do that for Willow so she wouldn't send me on a mental health retreat as she likes to call it." Gemma uses quotation marks, shaking her head as she recalls the session.

"I just want to make sure I don't need to be worried about you."

"Worried about me?" She raises an eyebrow, shoving her free hand into her pocket. She shifts her on her feet before making a sound of disagreement. "No, you don't need to be worried about me. If I wanted to die, I'd be dead. It's as simple as that."

Stefan sighs heavily, "you shouldn't sound so carefree about dying, Gemma. There's a lot to live for."

"Weren't you ready to burn to death in front of the quarry less than forty-eight hours ago?"

He lets go of her arm as if it burned him, his expression morphing into a scowl. "Just when I think there's something redeemable about you."

"Yeah, well," she pats him on the shoulder with a sympathetic smile. "It's been almost two hundred years and there's nothing yet, so don't get your hopes up."

"You know—"

"I'll talk to you later, Stefan," she finally moves past him and up the stairs to her bedroom. "There's only room enough for one mentally ill person in each room of the house."

"There's something wrong with you," he calls after her. "Medically wrong."

"I thought we've all come to that conclusion a long time ago," she responds half way up the staircase. "Now if you'll excuse me." She offers him a wiggle of her fingers and a dry smile before disappearing upstairs, Pride and Prejudice tucked safely underneath her arm.

••

Gemma drags herself into Alaric's classroom, a heavy sigh leaving her chest when she sees the array of disappointed looks aimed her way. "I know I'm late," she voices. "Did you guys expect anything else?" Her eyes search the faces of the people around her and she blinks, her curiously piqued. "What's with all the furrowed brows?"

"I saw Isobel last night," Alaric finally says.

Gemma inhales sharply, "here?" The man nods and she swallows dryly, making a face. "Well, that could be a problem. For you."

"Gemma," Elena trails off, her voice weak.

The female Salvatore turns to the girl, her attention solely on her. The human girl doesn't say anything but Gemma takes that as her cue not to make any dark jokes, or to say anything that could be taken out of context.

"Did you ask her about Uncle John?" Damon questions Alaric, "are they working together?"

"No," the teacher replies.

"No, they're not?"

"No, I didn't ask."

"What about the invention?"

"Didn't ask."

"Did she know about the tomb vampires?"

"I'm gonna interrupt and go with, didn't ask." Gemma cuts the teacher off when he begins talking, her lips pulled into an amused but wry smile.

"Did words completely escape you?" Damon scoffs.

"No, I was a little too distracted by my dead vampire wife to ask questions!" Alaric snaps.

Gemma purses her lips, "fair enough."

Damon rolls his eyes before turning to the Gilbert girl, "what did she want?"

"She wants to see me, Damon."

Gemma's eyebrows shoot up and she looks at the human, studying her solemn expression. The Salvatore allows herself to feel sympathy for the girl, knowing it must be hard to be let down by the only parent you have left.

"Alaric is supposed to arrange a meeting," Stefan says. "We don't know why or what she wants."

Gemma shakes her head, morphing her expression into one of certainty when Elena meets her eyes. "You don't have to see her if you don't want to, you know that, right? Not wanting anything to do with her doesn't make you a bad person."

"I don't really have a choice," Elena murmurs.

"Like hell you don't," Gemma argues, her lips parting.

"She's threatened to go on a killing spree," Alaric mentions, piping up from behind Gemma.

The dark haired woman looks around at the small group, her eyes uncaring. "I'm guessing that's a no go for you guys?"

Damon shrugs but before anybody else can respond, Elena's cutting in; shuffling closer to Gemma. "I want to do it. I want to meet her. If I don't, I know I'll regret it."

Gemma nods slowly, looking at the girl. She remembers how excited Elena was when they visited Trudie; when they began to learn more about her birth mother. She can only imagine how robbed the human feels now that she knows Isobel isn't worth wasting time on.

"Okay," the woman relents. "Okay, what's the plan?"

••

Gemma waits across the street from The Grill, her posture tense as she stands between Damon and Alaric. It didn't bother her that she wasn't the one in there looking after Elena, it bothered her that Elena's death would be one hell of an inconvenience on all of them. The fact that Stefan's succumbing to Isobel's demands just bec—

"Stop deflecting," Damon says.

Gemma looks up from the pavement, "what?"

"Stop doing that thing in your head where you try and convince yourself you're feeling less than you actually are," he reiterates. "You do it every time Elena's put in a position like this."

"There you go," Gemma hums. "Key word: every time. Look at all of the situations she's been put in since meeting us. We're toxic to humans."

Damon scoffs, "oh, don't be a martyr. You know you should be the one in there."

Gemma gives him a sharp look, "don't start with this again."

"Isobel made it clear we're not to step a foot inside," Alaric reminds them, his presence lingering quietly beside the female Salvatore.

She's internally grateful that he's dumbing she and Damon's conversation down to just wanting to be involved in the situation, rather than what it's actually about.

"We wouldn't kill her in a crowded restaurant," Damon tells the man.

"I would," Gemma says.

"You're not going to kill her period!" Alaric exclaims.

"She ruined your life and you still want to protect her?" Damon asks.

Gemma casts him a blank look. The words Katherine Pierce flash brightly in her mind before she cues herself back into reality.

"She's my wife," the teacher pauses. "Was my wife. I looked for the woman I married but she wasn't there. Whoever that is, she's cold and detached."

"Yeah, she's given up her humanity."

Gemma smirks, "what a time, what a time, what a time..."

"Yeah, see, I don't get that," Alaric begins. "Stefan has his humanity, he's a good guy. You're a dick and you kill people but I still see something human in you. Gemma, of all people, values human life more than any of you and she's emotionless most of the time; but with Isobel... there was nothing."

"You can turn it off, like a button you can press," Damon informs him. "Stefan's different. He wants the whole human experience. He wants to feel every episode of How I Met Your Mother, so he shuts his feelings out. Gemma, she just—"

"The only reason I value human life is because I don't want them to feel how I felt," she cuts her brother off, her arms crossed over her chest. "As someone who can overpower and manipulate a human to do whatever I want, I choose not to. I choose to do what makes me better."

"Yeah, yeah, the problem is, as a vampire, your instinct is not to feel. Isobel chose the easier road— no guilt, no shame, no regret. I mean, come on, if you could turn it off, wouldn't you?"

"You two haven't," Alaric assumes.

"Of course I have, Ric," Damon chuckles. "It's why I'm so fun to be around."

Gemma pauses before shrugging, "my switch has always been in the middle, balancing between humanity and being inhumane. It's what makes it so easy for me to flip. My switch has never been just on or off, it's both or neither. I couldn't care less if Isobel went on a killing spree and killed the whole population of Mystic Falls, but I'm not going to. Thinking of Elena dying is a huge inconvenience, but her dying because of me or my brothers actions— it's..." She pauses, "gut wrenching."

Ric watches her for a long second before turning back toward The Grill, nodding his head. "You're not all that bad, Gemma."

She grins, "not right now."

The doors to The Grill swing open and the trio straightens up, only to be let down when the certain appearance of a brunette human isn't seen. Gemma narrows her eyes at the blonde curls bouncing in unison with the human's steps though, the bright sundress swaying as she walks. "I've gotta..." she trails off, already shuffling away.

"...her therapist," she hears Damon mutter behind her, probably filling Ric in on why she was rushing off to follow a human.

"Willow," Gemma calls, catching up to the woman rather quickly. She falls into step with her, shoving her hands into her pockets and waiting for the therapist to acknowledge her. When she doesn't, the vampire sighs heavily. "Willow, I'm sorry."

"For what?" The blonde keeps looking straight ahead as they walk.

"For wasting your time yesterday," Gemma replies. "For upsetting you by ending our session when I shouldn't have."

"Are you saying sorry because you feel regret, or because you feel obligated to?"

Gemma pauses, "I mean, I know I should be sorry so that's why—"

"There's a difference in saying it out of obligation and actually meaning it, Gemma."

"I don't—?"

"Okay," Willow stops walking and faces the woman with a burning gaze. "How about this? Why don't you feel sorry? Let's try this your way, cold and calculated, hm?"

"You crossed a line," Gemma tells her, tensing up. "Implying that I feel something for Elena because she looks like Katherine crossed a line for me. It's a trigger."

"Why?"

"I knew Katherine during the worst time of my life. I trauma bonded with her, that's it. I was clingy and needy because she was there and because she had power and because she wasn't afraid of my father, and we both knew that's all it was. Katherine was a distraction from the pain, and I was a toy for her to play with. That's it, Willow."

Willow raises her eyebrows, "and so why did it make you angry that I compared your feelings about the both of them?"

"Because it wouldn't be that with Elena!" Gemma finally snaps, throwing her hands up. "Because, in some twisted world where we met in the right time, she would not be what Katherine was to me."

"Gemma, just because Elena resembles Katherine, does not mean that you have to go back to that lesser place whenever you're with her. Is... is that what happens?" Willow shuffles closer, her eyes softer than before. "Do you force yourself to go back there whenever you're with her?"

"No, I just..." Gemma runs a hand through her hair, shaking her head whenever tears of irritation sting her eyes. "I don't do this, you know? I don't talk about my feelings, I don't get better. I just don't."

"Why not? Why don't you deserve the same kindness that's given to everyone else? Why don't you deserve the relief of letting go?"

"Because I'm not Gemma Salvatore if I'm not suffering, and..." She wipes away a traitorous tear. "And I'm definitely not worth being cared for if I'm not suffering either."

Willow widens her eyes, "why would you ever think that?"

Gemma bites the inside of her cheek before exhaling shakily, "they only ever care when I'm hurting, Willow."

"If being happy means being alone, then Gemma, choose yourself. If they only love you when you're suffering, it's not love. It's a savior complex, it's whatever screwed up notion they have in their own brain. It's not you, Gemma. You don't need to be in pain in order to deserve love."

Gemma swallows thickly, not replying.

"Listen I, I've had a rough night of my own so I'm going home, okay?" Willow gives the woman a soft smile. "But please, schedule a real session and let's get to the bottom of this, all right?"

Gemma nods, "okay, yeah, yeah, I'll do that."

"Be safe, Gemma," Willow smiles tightly. "Please."

The Salvatore nods slowly, studying Willow's expression. "Yeah... you too."

••

It's the next day before Gemma mentions anything to Damon, hoping her brother feels somewhat sympathetic enough to give her a genuine response.

"What do you mean, somethings wrong with Willow?" Damon questions, his eyebrows raised.

"Last night, something was wrong with her. She said she was having a rough night and she just didn't look right."

Damon rolls his eyes, "you're not the therapist here, Gem. She is."

"Does that mean I'm not allowed to worry about her?" Gemma asks rhetorically, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. It was another nervous habit of hers, biting the skin on her lips; her fingers— her cheeks. Whatever would distract her from the tight feeling in her chest.

"Doctors and patients aren't supposed to have connections outside of the office," Damon reminds her, his eyes absently scanning across the words in the book he's reading.

"You set us up on a date for our first session," she deadpans.

"Yeah," he smirks. "Because I know she's not your type."

"What do you know about my type?"

His eyes lift to meet hers and wickedness glints back at her. "Olive skin, brunette, brown eyes, is in love with our brot—"

Gemma lunges at Damon and he grabs her shoulders with a loud laugh, throwing her onto the couch beside him carelessly. She bats at his hands with a scowl as he digs his fingers into her ribs, a wide grin pulling at his lips as the female Salvatore squirms on the furniture. "Stop!" She screeches through a cackle, her body giving way. It was nearly impossible for the woman to do anything that involved strength while she was laughing, her muscles just giving up. "I—I'll kill you," she gasps when he gives her a minute to breathe.

"You already tried that, look where it got you," he taunts her.

"You're a dickhead, you—"

"You two are children," a monotone voice broods.

Damon backs away from Gemma with a huff and the woman straightens up, straightening her shirt from where Damon wrinkled it. She looks up at her younger brother, who's standing in the doorway of the living room with Bonnie and Elena, and she frowns deeply. "Or maybe you're not childish enough," she argues.

"Was Damon tickling you?" Elena asks, a small smile playing at her lips. "I've never heard you laugh like that."

"Oh, yeah," the eldest Salvatore drawls. "The ribs, Elena. It's always the ribs."

"Shut up, you cu—"

"Okay," Stefan claps his hands together, interrupting what would've been more bickering between Damon and Gemma. "We're here for something, so..."

"What might that be, Stefan?" Damon asks, his eyes narrowing.

Elena clears her throat, twisting her hands in front of her with a nervous sort of smile. Gemma stands up and shuffles forward to rest beside Damon, her eyes meeting those of the human. "We, um, we need the device, Damon."

His eyebrows shoot up and if Gemma didn't know any better, she'd say he was about to laugh in the girls face. "Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," Elena begs.

"I'm not gonna give the device to Isobel so she can give it to John, who in turn is gonna kill me. I like being a living dead person."

"But it'll be useless," Elena reassures him. "Bonnie can take its power away."

"I don't trust her," Damon says simply.

Gemma side eyes him. He doesn't trust the girl he's harassed? How ironic.

"I can remove the original spell," Bonnie tells him.

"John and Isobel will never know," the Gilbert pipes up again.

"No, I'll get Jeremy in my own way." He continues to protest.

Gemma nods with a deep inhale. She had forgotten about the younger Gilbert sibling being kidnapped by Isobel. What a shame.

"Really?" Stefan scoffs, "how are you gonna do that? Because Isobel is a vampire and Jeremy could be dead the second you walk in the door."

Gemma presses her lips into a thin line, giving her younger brother an incredulous look. Did he forget they were vampires too? They could rush in and scoop Jeremy out before Isobel bats an eyelash. The Salvatore stays silent with that comment, seeing as how Elena looks like she's turning into more of tomato by the second.

Damon falls silent for a long second before he turns to Bonnie, sighing. "Are you even up for this?" He scrutinizes her. "I mean, no offense, but you're no Emily Bennett. Emily knew what she was doing."

"I've been practicing."

"It's not piano lessons, honey."

Gemma cracks a small laugh at that one, trying to cover it up with clearing her throat. Stefan gives her a blank look and she shrugs, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"What's your favorite book, Gemma?" Bonnie asks suddenly.

The vampire stills, "hm?"

"Name a book, any book."

"I don't—"

"Pride and Prejudice," Elena blurts. "She always has it with her."

"So it should be somewhere in here?" Bonnie asks.

"Yeah, I had it with me ye—"

Bonnie hushes her and turns to face the living room. After a few seconds, the said book flies out of the cushions of the couch and settles into Gemma's outstretched hands. The vampire looks at it with a small smile, humming.

"Price and Prejudice," Damon quips. "Great parlor trick."

"We're doing this, Damon," Elena says firmly. "And we're doing it my way. Now give me the device, we're wasting time."

"I don't trust you," Damon tells Bonnie again. "I tried to kill you."

"You're right, you can't trust me." She confirms.

"But you can trust me," Elena says.

Damon stares at her for a second before looking at Gemma, questioning silently with his eyes. She clenches her jaw before shrugging. She was indifferent, she didn't care.

Damon nods and does as asked, giving Elena the device.

"Thank you," she sighs.

He rolls his eyes, "wasn't for you, Gilbert."

"Alright," Stefan huffs. "Let's do this."

•••

After confronting Isobel and having to withstand the comments about Katherine and "falling in love with Elena", Gemma is especially exhausted and testy. She sits in front of the fireplace with a glass of Whisky, her elbows resting on her knees as she stares into the flames. She didn't like what happened tonight, not one bit.

The fact that everyone thinks she's falling in love with the human, that she even cares; it's repulsing. The fact that Elena thinks she has a soft spot for her, she can't stand it. It makes her skin crawl, it makes her want to run.

Her eyes snap up when Stefan enters the room, his brooding expression still evident from earlier.

"You want one?" She lifts her glass so he can see. "I know you're dying to dish it out."

"It's about what Isobel said."

"No, really?" Gemma takes a large sip, looking at him over the rim of her glass. "I know, so go ahead."

"I know that you and Elena have bonded—"

"For your sake."

"—and I know that she cares about you and... I know that you care about her—"

"Because you wanted me to."

"I'm just concerned about Elena being hurt. She considers you a friend."

Gemma stands up to face him, her chest falling with a heavy sigh. "If I was gonna hurt the human, I would've by now."

"So, at the risk of sounding like a jealous boyfrie—"

"You do," Gemma smirks. "You totally do, which confuses me. Back in the day, you had no problem sharing."

Stefan tenses, his eyes darkening. "History will not be repeating itself where Elena is concerned. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Gemma scoffs out a laugh and tries to move past her brother with a careless shrug, her body stiffening when he wraps his hand around her upper arm with a tight grip. He practically yanks her back in front of him, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Do you understand?"

Gemma meets his eyes, "I understand that if you don't take your hands off of me, you won't have hands to use anymore."

Stefan grits his teeth and removes his hand from her arm, his eyes cold.

"Talk to Damon," Gemma says blankly. "He knows something about John and Elena you might want to hear."

"What do you mean?"

Gemma shrugs and shuffles past him, "the more you know, Stefan."

"Gemma, about Elena—"

"Yes," she looks over her shoulder with innocent eyes. "About Elena. Tell her if she wants to spend anymore nights in my room, she's more than welcome. That girl..." Gemma hums, inhaling blissfully. "She knows how to have fun."

"What are you—"

"Goodnight, Stefan. I hope you sleep well."

•••

not edited.