A/N: Slight trigger warning for suicide in this chapter. If you've seen the first two minutes or so of Orphan Black, you'll know what I'm referring to.

Chloe Beale wasn't one to fall asleep in a library. Especially on a Friday night, when there was a perfectly good party that she could have been attending.

And yet, there she was. Red locks of hair tussled over the desk, cheek pressed against the pages of her Russian Lit textbook, pen still loosely clutched in her right hand. She was even snoring softly, being slouched over a desk clearly doing wonders for her back.

Which was exactly why she groaned quietly when the sharp sound of snapping fingers sent her bolting upright, her spine protesting somewhat silently, as the librarian's stern expression reminded her to be quiet even in her half-awake state.

"We're closing. You need to leave."

The voice in the back of her head, sounding suspiciously like Aubrey, told her to bite her tongue and not deliver a snarky one liner about how charming the older woman was. It was also telling her she was spending too much time with Beca.

Using the back of her hand to wipe away any possibility of residual drool from the corner of her mouth, Chloe nodded before mumbling an apology as she collected her things. The Librarian's hawk-like appearance doing nothing to speed along the matters as the red head's books tumbled carelessly into her bag.

She tossed an apologetic smile over her shoulder as she made her way to the door, dipping up her bag as she went, eager to leave the old woman's glare behind.

It wasn't until she crossed over the threshold and into the cool night air that Chloe slipped her phone out of her pocket to check the time.

10:06 pm.

The library was supposed to close half an hour ago. Cringing at her inability to stay awake while reading Chekhov, she made a mental note to leave a box of chocolates in the after-hours return box. Everybody liked Favorites, right? They were the ultimate gift to give when you didn't actually know what to give.

She was only pulled out of her thoughts concerning the reaction to surprise chocolate when her phone began to buzz in her hand, smiling at the name that appeared on screen.

DJ Extraordinaire.

Aubrey had scoffed when she first saw it. Beca had just rolled her eyes, even if the smile on her face told a different story. Pressing the answer button, she brought the device to her ear.

"Beca, if this is a booty call, I should probably let you that you're doing it wrong." Chloe teased, making her way down the side walk, street lights illuminating the way back to her dorm.

"I already tried hey girl, you up but you haven't been answering your texts." The voice deadpanned through the phone.

"Crap, sorry. I fell asleep in the library." Her free hand absentmindedly ran through her hair, still internally berating herself for being fatigued. She hadn't even gotten that much work done this evening. What a waste of a Friday night.

"And you're still alive?" The smirk was practically audible.

"The books watched over me?" Chloe suggested, turning right as she followed the lit path. A silhouetted figure standing on the other side of the road caught her eye, the sight making her uneasy. The late time and lack of witnesses did not make for a comfortable situation. She continued to walk, glancing over to the individual, who was now heading in the same direction.

Chloe picked up the pace. The sooner she got home, the sooner she could shake the weird feeling that has settled in her gut.

"Hey Red, you still there?" Beca's voice cut through her thoughts.

"Huh, yeah I'm still here. What's up?" She didn't sound shaky did she? She felt like she sounded shaky.

"Uh, nothing. I said that since walls had ears, it was entirely possible that the books had eyes. And then you like, zoned out or something. You didn't even comment on my fabulous analogy."

"You're weird, and that's hardly an analogy."

"I'm not weird. You're weird."

"Wow, way to make a comeback, Mitchell." Chloe scoffed.

"Way to avoid the subject, Beale. You never miss an opportunity to laugh at my awesome grasp of the English language. What's up?"

"It's nothing. It's dumb." Anxiously, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, watching over her shoulder.

"Sure it is, that's why you sound like you're literally the embodiment of stress. You sound like Aubrey during rehearsals. Seriously, what's going on?" In any other situation, the shift from Beca's teasing to concern would have bought a smile to her face.

"There's a person." She started to worry her bottom lip.

"A person?"

"Yeah, on the side walk." Her ginger curled bounced along with her nodding, even if Beca couldn't see.

"You're kidding me. They're on the sidewalk? Let me guess, they're even using it walk on. How dare they." It was widely known (within the Bellas) that Beca wasn't that best at comforting, that humor was her go to method for dealing with just about anything. Usually, it worked, but then again, usually Chloe wasn't walking home in the dark while someone was maybe or maybe not following her.

"Beca." She whined, "I'm serious, I've just got this feeling. They're headed in the same direction and I can't see their face to figure them out. I don't know, like I said, it's dumb."

"Want me to stay on the line? I mean, nothing's going to happen, but in case it does, I'm here. Well not here, but on the phone. You get what I mean." Yeah, comforting really wasn't Beca's forte, but hey, she was trying.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence Becs."

"Do you want me to hang up?" The DJ retorted.

"No." Chloe answered, entirely too quickly. "But you're probably right. Nothing's going to happen."

"Exactly. When have I ever been wrong?" And then after a beat, Beca added, "Actually don't answer that."

Chloe let out a soft laugh. Surprisingly, she was feeling somewhat better about the whole scenario. Score one for Beca's inability to deal with emotions in the conventional way.

"Okay, I can see the dorms. I'm hanging up now."

"Okay, text me when you get in okay. I need to know you're not lying dead in a ditch somewhere."

"Beca!" Those were not the mental images she needed right now.

"Bye Chlo!" She called out, her voice already sounding further away as Beca hung up.

Shoving her phone into her pocket, Chloe chanced glancing around , cursing Beca as she did.

The silhouette had taken to standing by the bus shelter, directly across from the red head. An odd choice, considering the buses didn't stop here at this time of night. There was a courtesy bus that ferried the university students who couldn't afford a cab into the main club district, but even it didn't stop there. It picked up them up at one end, and let them off at the other.

(Chloe knew this because it was something she frequently used. Whilst drunk, she had once argued with the driver when he wouldn't stop here, even going so far as so suggest he just slowed down so she could stop, drop and roll because it was so close to her dorm. She would have been on it tonight if it hadn't been for that stupid Lit paper.)

Speaking of the devil, or rather the bus driven by the devil, the unmistakable sound of the rattling engine filled the air as dim headlights came into view.

That should have been her cue to leave. She should have turned away from whoever chose to stand in that particular spot, and walked into her dorm, texted Beca to say she'd arrived okay, before slipping into bed to sleep somewhere a little more comfortable than library desk.

But she didn't, because curiosity got the better of her.

She didn't, because as the headlights grew closed, the face of the mysterious figure was illuminated.

And it was like looking in a mirror. If the mirror put on a blonde wig and looked sadder than you thought possible.

Piercing blue eyes met piercing blue eyes.

Chloe's mouth fell open.

She had to be more tired than she thought.

Maybe she was still asleep.

That's it, this was all a dream.

Not real.

Or maybe it was a coincidence.

Those existed right.

There was a perfectly logical explanation.

There had to be.

A sister maybe?

Long lost twin?

It was entirely possible.

There had to be a logical answer.

Where was Aubrey when you needed her?

The person, this other Chloe, let her handbag fall to her feet, the clattering sound of it hitting the concrete echoing around the street.

Or maybe that was all part of the imagination. Or dream, whatever.

Chloe, the real Chloe, began to travel forward, her feet taking steps towards this stranger, towards the possibility of an answer.

But she never arrived.

The stranger mirrored her movements.

The bus kept coming.

Chloe turned away just before the impact, returning to the pavement as the horn blared through the night.

Somehow, she still heard the thud of body against metal.

And then again as it hit the floor.

She could see the bus driver, pale faced and gripping the steering wheel like his life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

And then Chloe was moving again.

Crossing the road, and to the bus shelter where the bag was laying, now owner less.

She didn't think. She just grabbed it, and tried to avoid looking at the stranger. The body.

She failed.

It was like she was staring at herself. Lying there, motionless.

She almost laughed at how surreal the situation was. All she was missing was the ditch, Beca's earlier words echoing in her mind.

And then she blanched. This situation wasn't funny at all.

A girl was dead.

A girl with Chloe's face.

How was she supposed to explain this when the police arrived?

Yes Officers, I have recently just become aware she looks exactly like me. No I don't know her. I wasn't even aware she existed until she stepped in front of thisbus.

The bus.

The bus that had a driver.

The bus that had a driver who probably shouldn't see Chloe right now seeing as she looked like a carbon copy of the body lying on the ground, clutching a bag that didn't belong to her.

So she took off into the darkness, a brisk stride taking her down the block until the bus was out of view, before circling back to her dorm.

The door creaked as she entered the building, and her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she walked, but neither sound even registered, her mind in a complete state of white noise and instant replays of what she'd witnessed.

Upon reaching her destination, she mechanically slipped they key out of her bag and unlocked the door with a white knuckled grip, slipping inside as quickly as possible and dropping both bags to the floor.

She didn't even bother getting changed. Instead, choosing to flop face first onto her bed.

She'd be thankful that she didn't wake up Aubrey in the morning, but right now, she buried her face into her pillow and pretended the evening hadn't happened.

A/N: So, what did you think? Like it? Hate it? I mean I'm going to keep writing this either way but who doesn't love an ego boost?