A/N: I'm not going to update regularly. Also I'm probably a few chapters ahead but I'm a mean person who likes her readers to wait. (Not really. I'm just really insecure about posting and edit a whole lot.)

We ate the eggs in silence. Every now and then Jace would throw me an inquisitive glance, but I ignored him. Well, as best as you can ignore someone that you came to know as a book character and now sits across from you eating the same scrambled eggs you do. Plus you know more about him then he does. My mind raced. I would let him stay. I didn't know how I would explain his presences to others but I would think about it. Also I couldn't just tell him everything. First this whole thing probably had a reason. Second memories gave him a headache and I saw no need to unnecessary hurt him.

"I hate liars", he finally said.

"I thought you don't remember anything about yourself?", I asked. He ignored my comment and went on: "I try not to lie if I can avoid it. And I can see it when people lie."

I stared at him blankly. "I know you lied. It was my eyes, yes, but you keep something from me."

I sighed. "Listen. It's complicated. I have a... notion about who you could be. But it's stupid and confusing and...just let me figure things out before I tell you, will you?"

Instead of answering he asked: "You know me?"

"Well", I said, "If you are who I think you are, yes."

He looked down and drew circles and lines on the empty plate. Eventually he said: "Were we in some sort of...relationship?"

I smiled a little and shook my head. "No. You're not exactly my type."

Some sort of weight must have fallen of his shoulders because he started to grin. "I think you're not mine either."

"I know", I responded. I thought about my long brown hair and blue eyes and how not his type I was. I grinned too.

"Friends then?"

"Sort of", I said.

"Sort of?"

"How do I explain it without sounding like a crazy stalker? Let's say I know you very well but you don't know me at all."

"You're not a stalker?"

"I am not, I swear", I said and took my last bite of the eggs.

He looked at me confused. "Sorry", I said. "Let me figure out everything and maybe this becomes clearer." He nodded.

"So what am I supposed to do while you're busy finding out stuff?", he asked. "Dunno. Read something..." Then it hit me. "I'll give you one of my favorite books. It's awesome."

I jumped up and jogged to the bedroom. "What am I supposed to do with the plates?", Jace called.

"Put them in the dishwasher", I answered turning my attention back to the bookshelf. I looked at the space where I put it yesterday, but it wasn't there. Weird. Frantically I searched the bookshelf for it but it was gone. I plowed through the stack of books at the base of the bed, scattering them across the room. Nothing. It was gone. All eight books completely nonexistent. I heard foot steps at the other end of the room and Jace walked in. He picked up one of the books nearest to the door and whistled. "Dickens?"

"Classic."

"What are you looking for?"

"A book. Part of a series. But they all are gone. Even the other series." I looked up. Jace stood behind me, still holding the book. "Which one is that?", I asked.

"A Tale Of Two Cities", he answered.

"You should read it", I said, "One of my other favorites and strangely connected to the missing books."

"Then I trust your judgment." With that he left the room. I sat down on the bed staring at the mess. It couldn't simply vanish, could it? But what if it had something to do with Jaces appearance?

I sorted the books again. Then I took my laptop and made my way back to the livingroom.

"Not being able to let me out of your view, are you?", he asked as I sat down. "Too attractive I bet."

"Actually no. I just thought locking myself in my room doesn't make things better." I booted up the computer and looked at Jace. A pained expression flashed over his face, as if the words hurt him. "Memories?"

"I read that before didn't I?"

"Yes. Thought maybe familiar things would help you retrieve your past." He nodded and I turned my attention back on my laptop. I opened my browser and searched:

The Mortal Instruments

I ended on pages about role-play, but no book. No movie. Nothing. I tried again:

The Infernal Devices

Nothing. They didn't exist. Never written. I tried my luck one last time:

Cassandra Clare

Judith Rumelt (born July 27, 1973), better known by her pen name Cassandra Clare, is an American author of young adult fiction, most known for her bestselling series The Magisterium.

I starred at the page. I've heard about The Magisterium. I hadn't read it because it wasn't published yet. Now it was the bestselling novel that got turned into a movie and it was as if The Mortal Instruments had never existed in the first place.

Jace must've seen my face because he asked: "Everything alright?"

"Yes", I said. "No. Actually not. I found out why I couldn't find the book. It was never written."

"So you just made up reading...how many books?"

"Eight. There was a ninth one but it wasn't published yet. And I didn't make it up. My friend read it too. I..." Was I turning insane? I always had some doubt about my sanity, but maybe I really just made it up.

"Then ask her about it." But then how come he was here. Real. I was pretty sure about who he was by now.

"She'll have forgotten. Like everybody else."

"You won't find out until you ask her. Or the author. You should write him-"

"-her-"

"-her too. Maybe there are others like you."

That made me smile a little. "You make it sound like I am the only survivor of a Zombie Apocalypse searching for other non-infected."

He laughed. "The book...it has something to do with me, doesn't it?", he asked.

"Yes", I said. I could be honest with him about this thing now, couldn't I? "Your're the main protagonist. That's why I know you."

"I don't think you'll be telling me the plot or about other people, so I'm not gonna ask you about that. Just: Whats my last name?", he asked not seeming surprised.

I started to laugh. Then I closed the laptop and set it on the coffee-table. "It changes", I replied.

"My name?"

"Yes. It changes. Who you are is dependent on which point of the story you are."

He grumbled something undefinable, then: "Where are you going?"

I was already at the front door, putting on shoes and a jacket. "To my friend, asking her about the books."

"Couldn't you like phone her?"

"I need to do some shopping afterwards, so it doesn't matter", I explained. I opened the door and looked back. "Just try not to set the house on fire." Then I was gone.