I do not own PLL.

I'm back! This story involves Aria and Ezra's daughter, Rose and a professor from Hollis, Jonathan Andrews. It will be structured in a similar way to Forgotten Words with inserts and chapters, but the major difference is that each chapter is what takes place in a day starting with the day Rose and Jonathan meet. Also, Hanna and Emily (or rather, versions of them) will be featured in this story.

If you have any questions, feel free to PM me or you can leave a REVIEW! Reviews are greatly appreciated! (and great motivation).

Rose Fitz looked around the crowded auditorium, leaning back in her seat and forcing herself to relax. She knew the professorsand teacher's assistants that filled the crowded room if by face if not by name. She reminded herself that she had known many of them for years. Still, she looked anxiously for her father, hoping that he would come sit beside her. She knew it was ridiculous to want to be rescued by her dad at her age, but still, there would be something comforting about his presence.

Instead, she watched in dismay as a blonde-haired man took the seat next to her. He was only one of a handful of professors she didn't recognize, and for that reason, Rose automatically knew who he was. She had heard the rumors, but she couldn't tell between what was hard fact and speculative fiction. He didn't seem dark and disturbed like some of the gossip she had heard.

Rose looked down at her cell phone and then back up at the stage. Where was the dean? The meeting should have started three minutes ago.

"I'm Jonathan Andrews," said the voice next to her cheerfully. "I'm in the Cultural Studies Department."

Rose ignored his outstretched hand as she blurted, "Aren't you the entire Cultural Studies Department?" She looked away and then back at him, blush coloring her cheeks. "Sorry," she apologized, shaking his hand quickly. "That was uncalled for."

Jonathan cocked his head and smiled. "No, it's true. I'm the only Cultural Studies professor at Hollis. What department are you with? I didn't think Hollis liked hiring people before the Spring semester."

"How do you know that I'm new?" shot back Rose.

He shrugged. "I don't recognize you. Are you an adjunct they hired at the last minute?"

"I''m a TA," she answered shortly. "The dean hired me over the winter break."

"What department are you TAing for?"

"Psychology."

"Are you working for the entire department or with one professor in particular?" he asked with interest.

"One professor."

"Which one?" He shot her a curious glance.

"Hastings," she replied curtly, looking ahead at the stage. "We should be quiet. The dean is about to start speaking."

Jonathan wrinkled his nose. "I've heard this talk a hundred times before. It's the same one they give at the beginning of the semester.

"Well, I haven't."

When he didn't respond, Rose supposed that maybe she had been a bit too cold with him. She used to be fun and flirty, but it had been hard to be that person the last few years. And something about Jonathan made her nervous. Maybe it was his blatant interest in her life. Nobody at Hollis had ever asked her questions like that before. Was it possible he didn't know who she was?
Dismissing the thought, Rose focused on the words the dean was saying. She had heard this speech a hundred times before too, but this was the first time she had ever heard it as a faculty member. Honing in on the dean's familiar voice, and trying hard to ignore the male hand that rested next to hears, Rose straightened in her seat when she felt the dean's gaze on her. The dean might be getting on in years, but he was no less sharp than he had been twenty years earlier.

As soon as the speech was over, Rose hurried out of the auditorium, not bothering to say good-bye to Jonathan. But she thought she could feel his gaze on her as she walked away.

Jonathan looked around the papers that cluttered his office and then longingly at the door that led to the small room where his secretary's desk was located. Getting up, his desk chair squeaking as he did so, Jonathan stuck his head out the door.

"Hey, Hanna?" he asked his secretary.

"Yup?" She looked up from the computer screen.

"Do you know anything about a new TA for the psychology department? Petite, dark hair, dark eyes. Works for Professor Hastings."

"Why?" asked the blonde-haired woman, her eyes narrowing.

Jonathan shrugged and took a step out of his office and leaned against the doorframe. "I met her at the faculty meeting. She seemed interesting."

Hanna snorted. "You seriously don't know who the TA working for Hastings is? Are you sure we work at the same school?"

He sighed in exasperation. "Come on, Hanna. You know everything about everyone. And you know that I've rarely left my office in four years."

"I know," she told him dryly. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even know what the dean looked like."

"You act like it's a bad thing. I have a research position. I research. In my office."

"And you want to know why people think your broody and depressed."

"Come one, Hanna. The girl?" asked Jonathan pointedly.

"Hmm." Hanna leaned back in her chair lazily. "What' it worth to you?"

"Seriously? I thought you worked for me." Rolling his eyes, Jonathan thought for a moment. "You can leave early Friday afternoon," he offered.

"Her name is Rose," said Hanna, turning her attention back the computer. "But I wouldn't go there."

"Why not?" asked Jonathan. "She's beautiful."

"Beautiful she may be, but approachable she certainly is not. Especially with her family."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Figure it out," Hanna told him, her eyes never leaving the computer screen. "What?" she exclaimed suddenly. "They're only forty bucks?"

Jonathan sighed. "Are you shoe shopping again, Hanna?"

"Of course not," she replied brusquely, "Unless by shoe shopping you mean that I am using Hollis resources to search for amenities to my work uniform."

"Don't you have a speech to transcribe?"

"Don't you have a paper to write?" Hanna returned. "Thinking about Rose isn't going to get it done."

Rose looked at the photographs around the office, and recognized the fact that many of them had been taken by her mother. There were photos of India, Africa, Spain, Argentina. She wished her mom was home so she could ask him about Jonathan…

"What are you thinking about?"

"Huh? Sorry, Aunt Spencer," Rose apologized. "What were you saying?"

"When I invited you to lunch, I thought you would at least pretend to listen to me," replied Spencer dryly as she took a bite of her sandwich.

"A cheese sandwich and a bag of chips from the vending machine is lunch?" teased Rose. "I thought you were trying to poison me." Rose ducked as said bag of chips came flying at her from across the small conference table.

"This is the thanks I get for hiring you as my TA," Spencer shook her head in disgust. "Thanks a lot."

"It was Dad's idea," Rose defended. "I'm just being a good daughter and listening to him."

"Humph," was Spencer's response. "You know you like working with me."

"You are the reason I minored in Psych," agreed Rose.

"So you are acknowledging my overlooked genius?" asked Spencer playfully.

"Everyone has acknowledged your genius, Aunt Spencer."

Rose's response elicited a laugh from the older woman. "If only that were true," she muttered. Spencer sighed and then continued, "But seriously, what were you thinking about so intently? Your grandfather's talk was not that stimulating."

"It wasn't his talk," agreed Rose, daintily taking a bite of her sandwich.

Spencer narrowed her gaze. "This is about a guy!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Who is it? Is he here at Hollis?"

"I'm not telling you that." Rose glared at her.

"But I'm just so happy for you," let out Spencer. "You haven't really been interested in anyone since…," her voice suddenly faded to nothingness. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I really didn't mean to bring that up."

"It's okay," Rose reassured her. "It doesn't bother me as much anymore."

"Oh, sweetie," sighed Spencer. "It will always bother you. I should know that more than anyone."

"I don't want to think about it right now."

Spencer nodded her head. "I'm here if you ever want to talk about it."

Rose smiled weakly. "I know."

Spencer was silent for a moment before she continued. "You deserve to be happy, Rose," she said quietly. "If you think you might have found someone to be happy with then…go for it."

Rose looked at the older woman thoughtfully. "I haven't always been known to make the best decisions."

"You shouldn't let your past dictate your present."

"That was…insightful," said Rose slowly.

"Don't look so surprised," said Spencer dryly. "It was your mom who told me that," she admitted grudgingly, earning her a smile from Rose.

"Ezra," greeted Byron. "Come in," he gestured to the seat in front of him warmly.

"I got your email," responded Ezra as he entered the dean's office. "What's going on?"

"This is a family matter," said Byron. "These days, it's just easier for you to come to me than me to come to you."

"Oh," replied Ezra, perplexed. "Is Aria okay?"

"Everything's fine," reassured Byron. "It got the same update you got. She gets back from Japan tomorrow night. I just wanted to talk for a moment."

"It's about Rose, isn't it?" asked Ezra. "I know you were hesitant to make her a TA this semester. If you think it's not going to work out, I understand."

"I think Rose and Spencer will get along well. I know it's not normally done, making Rose a TA before she graduates. But I think Rose could use the support. Do you know what she wants to do after graduation? She's only one semester away."

Ezra sighed and rubbed his face. "She won't tell me. She seems better, having spent last semester in Iceland working on her painting. She moved into the apartment above The Brew. I would prefer it if she were living with us but…," he shrugged helplessly. "She's not a little girl anymore. She started making adult decisions a long time ago."

"Did you see who she was sitting next to this morning?"

Ezra shook his head. "Nope. I was sitting across the auditorium in the back row. The meeting with the Alumni Association went long."

"Jonathan Andrews was talking to her. He's hardly left his office since he started working here."

"Is that the guy who…Oh," let out Ezra as Byron nodded his head. "I see. Should we be worried?"

"Just aware," said Byron looking at his son-in-law. "It could become very complicated very easily."

Ezra shifted in his seat. "I'm not sure I like it. The age difference alone…"

Byron laughed quietly. "When have age differences ever stopped anyone in this family?"

"True," replied Ezra with a soft smile. "This family is less than conventional."

"Aren't you glad you married into it?" Byron looked at the younger man knowingly, a twinkle in his eye.

The Brew was quiet and nearly empty, a good place for loners or reading or working, the atmosphere generating a certain sense of warmth but also a sense of solitude. Jonathan thought it had something to do with the photographs and paintings displayed on the walls rather than the late-night hour. He sat in a corner of the room looking down at a handful of papers, when the sound of ceramic hitting the wooden table startled him out of his thoughts.

"Thanks," he said, his smiling widening when he saw the person who came with the coffee.

"You're welcome," replied Rose, sitting in the seat across from him.

"You come here often?" asked Jonathan, pushing away the papers that were in front of him.

"I live in the apartment upstairs," she replied softly.

"I didn't know that The Brew had an apartment upstairs," said Jonathan, his gaze drifting towards the ceiling.

"It does. What are you working on?" she asked, looking down at the papers that now lay on the corner of the table. She saw the words social understanding and American phenomenon highlighted.

"Nothing much," he answered. He took the coffee she had offered and tasted. "It's good," he told her. "I don't know that I've ever have coffee like this here before."

"It's a perk from living upstairs. It must be important for you to be working on it. The papers," she continued.

Jonathan sighed and ran a finger around the rim of his cup. "It's a small paper on teen pregnancy and public perception I'm working on for a regional journal. Nothing big."

"Oh. What do you think about teen pregnancy?"

"I think that it has quickly snowballed into a pop culture phenomenon that has infected every part of our society."

"In what ways?"

"Are you really interested in this?" asked Jonathan in surprise. "I thought you were working for the Psychology Department?"

"Oh, I'm interested in all sorts of things," responded Rose lazily. "I've dabbled in English and photography, painting, history, architecture, even pastry-making."

"Should I even ask about the pastry-making?" he asked quirking an eyebrow.

She shrugged. "My grandfather was teaching me some family recipes. I know how to make very good apple strudel. If you're ever interested."

"Is that an invitation?" asked Jonathan suggestively.

"Maybe," admitted Rose tonelessly.

She was rewarded with a smile. "Then I must just take you up on it," he told her, leaning in.

"And I might let you," she told him back, mimicking his position so that she was leaning over the table too.

The spell was broken when Jonathan's phone buzzed. "Sorry," he said, reaching into his pant pocket. He read a text and then looked back at her. "I have to go. Thank you for the coffee," he said as he grabbed his jacket and stacked his papers together.

"Welcome."

"See you at work," he told her as he readied himself to head out the door.

"I live up those stairs," Rose called out to him, pointing across the room. "If you ever want to drop by," she added hesitantly.

"Careful," said Jonathan as he turned around. "You might find me on your doorstep some day."

Rose shrugged. "So be it."

Jonathan laughed as he walked away. Rose was sitting alone at the table, the half-drunk cup of coffee a reminder of what had passed, when another man took Jonathan's seat.

"Who's that?" asked Zack, following his granddaughter's gaze to the door.

"I met him this morning at the faculty meeting. His name's Jonathan."

"Does he work at Hollis?"

Rose nodded her head in affirmation.

"He's wearing a ring," Zack told her bluntly, looking at the direction in which he had walked.

"His wife died four years ago," Rose said softly, "when he first started working at Hollis."

"Do you like him?" asked Zack. When Rose didn't respond, he told her, "Be careful."

"I will," she promised. She looked at the nearly-empty coffee shop and then back at her grandfather. "Go home. I'll lock up for you tonight."

Zack sighed and nodded his head in assent. "I love you, Rose."

"I love you too, Grandpa," she told him quietly, but Zack sensed that her mind was elsewhere.