I was walking out of the library today, where I'd been studying, earlier than I did a lot of the time. It was Saturday, and I was going to actually treat myself and go out. Somewhere downtown, rather than just get looked at funny by all the people in Hyde Park. I still got funny looks and heard people talking about me, even a year after it all. I'd finally gotten a job that would suck a little less, at least I hoped.

There was a bit of a road block to my exit though. A crowd had gathered at the entrance to the library. Unless it was a big tour group, there probably was only bad reasons for the hold up.

"Coming through!" I announced, pushing my way through the crowd. I couldn't see over them to tell what was happening, and, frankly my dear, I didn't give a damn.

"Move, damn it," I said as I had to literally push one guy out of the way.

"Hey, watch it," he said as I finally got to the front of the crowd. The front of the Regenstein Library has two entrances, a south entrance, and an east entrance. The east entrance has two normal doors, while the larger south entrance has a bunch of doors, including a big revolving door in the middle. Today, the revolving door was a bit out of commission, due to some poor kid being stuck in it. I'm sure some drinking was involved in this situation, but he looked like he was getting kind of frantic. He plainly didn't do it himself, judging by the strategically placed door stop wedged under a different compartment. It was rigged perfectly so that no one could get into that section of the door to reach it.

I looked to the outside world, and of course found Emmett McCarthy, and some of his frat brothers laughing. It would be them. And of course, no one would be helping the kid. I fucking hate the world, sometimes. Well, a lot of the time, really, but not the whole world, just ridiculous jerks like that who get off on cause embarrassment and pain to others.

I know what your thinking. Alice, didn't you used to hang out with those guys? Didn't you, in fact, spend years crushing on and lusting after Emmett's best friend and former roommate, Jasper Whitlock?

And that's probably why I loathe them so much. Because I used to be one of them. Or want to be one of them, at least. I think I was always more of an enthusiastic puppy for their amusement than an actual friend.

I slid my notebook along the bottom of the door, and it knocked the door stop out of place. This freed the trapped freshman, judging by the way the revolving door immediately spun into me, knocking me down and trapping me once the door stop caught again. I jiggled the door for a moment, but it didn't move.

Emmett walked up and tapped on the glass, smiling. "Need a hand in there, short stuff?"

"Let me out of here so I can kick your ass for this whole stupid thing."

"Why do you think I had anything to do with it?" he asked. He turned more serious before he left. "I'm not surprised you would accuse some one with no evidence."

***

"Jasper!" I'd shouted, bursting in on the winding down party. I'd always suspected that most of the building doors to our apartments could be opened with a swift kick, and I had confirmed it on the way back in to the party. "Tell me you found Bella!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, confused. "What are you doing here?" Back here, he didn't have to add.

I was barefoot, still, and hadn't bothered to change, meaning that I was wearing a hugely baggy tshirt that could have been a dress on me and sweat pants that I could loop the draw string around me a couple times. And I, ever fashion conscious, didn't give a shit! "Where's Bella?"

"I don't know. I saw her around somewhere, but I figured she went back?" he looked at me curiously, and a little drunkenly. "Is that really why you are here?"

I saw a flash of bronze hair in the kitchen. When I ran in, Edward turned out to be crouched, chipping away at a bunch of powderized koolaide mix that was hardened on their floor. "YOU!"

"Me," Edward answered, looking up at me. "You?"

"Where's Bella?" I demanded. That dream that had seemed so real had shown him with her. Had shown him... but it couldn't be.

"Who?" he asked. Edward went out with the rest of us the least, even less than Bella. Maybe he really did have no idea who she was, and barely any idea who I was. But it had seemed so real. Something must have happened to Bella anyway. Bella wouldn't go home with someone. She wouldn't not call or text or anything. With everyone here claiming ignorance, there was only one possible place for me to check. It couldn't be, it just couldn't. It had to have been a dream. A bad dream, because I had stormed out, mad at Jasper and resentful of how every guy seemed to like her even though she was clumsy and never noticed them and never tried to look beautiful, she just did.

I turned and ran out the door. I'd run here, and I could still feel the burning in my lungs, but I had to know. My dream had to be a lie. There was no way anything could have happened to my best friend. I ran and ran, my feet slapping the pavement. It was blocks back to campus, at who knows what time of night, and it was no time for anyone to be out on their own, especially not a girl who, due to her size, looked like she could get mugged by a determined middle schooler. I heard the sound of feet moving along with me, but I didn't know. I didn't care. I had to get there. The streets were empty. I didn't have to stop for traffic or dodge people or anything. There was no heart beating to fast to keep going. No lungs laboring to get any oxygen to a desperate body. I was just fear, terror, and I had to know I was wrong.

I turned onto University Avenue, and even three blocks away, on the wrong street, I could see the lights. Blue and red alternated, reflecting off the buildings. There are millions of people in this city. It couldn't be her. I must have heard about it somewhere, on the radio on the bus, or just someone talking, and dreamed it. It couldn't be her. There was some other, more rational, more plausible explanation for this. Bella was alive. She had to be.

I got to the police tape, still running full speed. There wasn't even an ambulance. I hadn't even made it in time for that. There was just a van, from the coroner's office. They were taking pictures of the body as I ducked under the perimeter. That body couldn't be her. She was taller, bigger all around. The hair was the wrong color it couldn't be her. My dream had to be lying. It had to be.

"Get away from her!" I shouted, crashing into the man with the camera. "Don't touch her!"

Someone grabbed me, and began dragging me away. I dug in my heels and ended up on the ground as the lost their grip. I scrambled over to the body, and found myself face to face with her. She was starring straight up. Right at the top of the spire, where she'd been pushed from. Where-

"No! It's a lie! It's not real!" I felt arms grab me again, pulling me away from the body. "It's not real! This was just a dream!"

"Alice!"

"It isn't real!" I shrieked into Jasper's shocked face. "Tell them it was just a dream Jasper!"

"Alice, you can't be here right now. The police need to go over the scene," he insisted.

"There's no scene! This didn't happen!"

"Just come sit with me," he said. I tried to get out, but I was running out of steam. I could still hear my pulse in my ears, and it was like one constant noise. "Jesus, Alice. Are you alright?"

I shook my head against his chest. "I'm going crazy. I am crazy."

"Shhh..." he said. "No you're not."

I cried quietly into his shirt, as he petted my hair. I had dreamed of him holding me like this when I cried, years ago when we were in high school and he was that brilliant, dashing rogue who didn't care about anything but managed to be the best in everything. I'd followed him to this school, moved thousands of miles to go to it with him.

"What happened?" asked a voice I knew. It was the only voice that had been in the dream that hadn't stuttered. Edward and Emmett were standing a few feet away from us, as if crazy was contagious and it was too late for Jasper.

"You!" I shouted, leaping out of Jasper's arms. I tried to lunge at Edward, but my legs wouldn't work, and my feet screamed at me rather than provide any traction. I ended up keeled over in front of him, as Jasper scrambled to gather me back into his arms. "You killed her! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

"Alice, calm down please," begged Jasper.

"He killed her, Jasper!" I turned my head toward the uniformed figures. "EDWARD MASEN MURDERED ISABELLA SWAN! He threw her from-"

I bit Jasper's hand, when he covered my mouth. "Ow! Are you out of your mind?"

"He killed her Jasper! I saw it. I saw him push her off that tower, you sick fuck!" Edward danced out of range of my lunge, and Jasper pulled me back into his lap.

"What are you talking about? Edward was at the party. He wouldn't kill anyone."

"Bella was at the party and Bella IS DEAD!" He held up his hand, looking at it.

"Shit, I think you drew blood."

"BELLA IS DEAD!" I shoved him away from me. I stood up, swaying, and immediately collapsed back to the ground.

"Jesus, Alice. Your feet are bleeding. Let me carry you to-"

"Don't touch me! Bella is dead and your friend killed her. He killed her!"

***

Yeah, that was pretty much how I lost my cool status.

I snapped back to the present. Emmett was well out of rang of any reasonable threat. I would have just sounded like some cartoon villain when I shouted that he'd live to regret this, or that revenge would be mine. Angrily, I kicked the door, and it actually bit into the wedge of wood, giving me a precious few inches of space to get out of this stupid door.

I squeezed out through it, though my laptop bag got caught and snapped me back towards it when I tried to walk away. I had to turn it side ways before it would let me out.

I headed out to catch the bus I wanted, trudging down 55th Street. I could have caught a bus there, but it would have meant an extra fifty cents every time I did that. On my limited travel budget, that could add up. Most people would have convinced some friend or acquaintance or even co worker to go downtown with them, but not me. It's not that I liked being alone with my thoughts, it's just that I hate having to hear other people's even more most of the time.

I sighed. That wasn't true. I never would have taken this job if I had.

***

"Come in," called a voice through the door before I could even knock. A decidedly female voice, I noticed. I walked in to find an office that was plainly in use. While it was well arranged, there were papers on one corner of the large wooden desk in the middle of the room, and several file folders in a holder on the other side. Locked cabinets that I can only presume held more student records rested behind me, in the two corners. Sitting at the desk was a young, attractive, blond haired woman.

I guess that I stood, momentarily confused, for a moment too long. She chuckled. "Call me Carly."

"Then you are Carlisle Cullen?" I said, exaggerating my relief. "Whew. I was afraid that I had the wrong office."

"Yes, there are so many like mine you could mistake it for."

I raised my eyebrows at this. I didn't know if I'd get this job or not, but having it with someone who was snarky and jaded would be, well, it'd be a lot better than I had hoped for.

"You have a very interesting history at this institution, Ms. Brandon," said Carly, flipping through a manila file folder. "Your grades are very good, except for a period last year. And you've made use of more of the campus resources than, well, than anyone on record."

After Bella's death, I'd been a little crazy. Maybe more than a little. I went to the campus police every few days, checking up on the investigation, trying to persuade them that I could help, that I knew who did it, until they sent me to one of the school psychiatrists. I'm not sure if I was crazy. I mean, I had trouble sleeping, was sad or angry most of the time, and never did anything that I had previously considered fun anymore, but calling me depressed like they did wasn't quite accurate. I'd become obsessed. I spent all my time thinking about what happened that night. Eventually, I realized that there wasn't some way that I was going to get justice out of this. Probably not even revenge. Not then, at least. So I'd buried it all, and tried to get on with life.

Of course, in that time, I'd lost my job, lapsed on my lease, and was failing all my classes. I had to meet with half a dozen adviser's, the dean of housing and student affairs, and am recognizable to the entire staff of career planning services. And this was on top of the fact that I was known among the students as the crazy girl who thought the most popular guys on campus had murdered her friend.

But it was a new year. I was renting the sun room from some transfer students who only kind of new my reputation, and my grades were back to my previous level. I just needed a better job than serving ice cream for eight bucks an hour. Otherwise, I would go crazy and kill someone myself.

"A lot of jobs, that might be considered a knock against you, but I actually would like someone who has knowledge of how these systems work, and who might be able to empathize with the students who will come in here." She looked up from the folder to make eye contact with me. Her eyes were golden brown, but somehow seem cold.

"So really, here's your interview: can I trust you to hold it together if I take the chance and give you this job?"

"I'd like the chance to prove myself," I said, trying to hold eye contact and act very sure of myself.

"Not good enough," she said, finally looking down. She closed the folder, and stood up, seemingly signaling the end of this interview.

"Last year I lost my best friend, my job, my house, my mind, and the respect of everyone on campus." I said, letting the anger I felt slip out a little bit. "Exactly what do you think will be able to phase me now?"

She held out her hand for me to shake. Except that now she was smiling. "That is exactly the passion I want you to have for this job. It's yours if you want it."

"I do." And I really did, for all sorts of reasons. "Can I ask some questions though?"

"Certainly."

"Why are you looking for an assistant to the ombudsperson? Why are you, the assistant ombudsperson even doing the interview?"

"Noticed that? Snyder," she sneered at the name of her superior in this office, "doesn't take this job as seriously as his studies. We're supposed to be looking out for students, their advocates against anyone in the university. We need people who are here, and who want to do the job, not just have a good mark on their resume."

"When can I start?"

"I'll expect you here Monday afternoon."

"Ok." I said. I stood up, but didn't leave.

"Another question?" she asked, as she went back to reading some report at her desk.

"Isn't Carlisle a man's name?"

"I know. It was my grandfather's name," she looked up for a moment. "You know, you're the first person younger than me who ever even knew it was a male name. Most of them just thought it was strange, and asked how to say it.

"Your secret is safe with me, Carly."

"Ms. Cullen to you, kid. See you Monday."

Author's Note: I was thinking of actually trying to set a schedule for this. In the future, I think I will up date it on the 15th and 29th of each month. Maybe lots of reviews will make me write it faster. Hopefully, there will be a story to each chapter, along with the over arching plot. We'll see if I can pull that off, right?