I was to deeply apologize from the bottom of my heart everyone who has loved this story for so long. I appreciate every single one of you who have commented and read this story in the time that it has been up, and I just hope that the story that I am now bringing back to life lives up to your expectations.

I want to specifically thank Major Potterhead 916 who had been the only one to comment on the last chapter of this story. I hope that I hear from more of you lovely readers because hearing from you honestly does give me motivation and someone to dedicate my stories to. I hope to hear from you, as well, so I know how you are liking the story thus far.

As a reminder, this is now taking place 3 years after the events of Book Thirteen: The End. Therefore, Klaus and Alice are now ages 19 and 18 respectively.

I hope you all enjoy what is to follow!

Part 2

Present Day…

If you would like to read a story where falling in love was the only struggle, and happiness was bound to be found at the very end, then I am sorry to tell you, dear reader, that you have chosen the wrong one. I would implore you to put this one down and choose another. For while there can be love, there is never a lack of peril that haunts the heels of the Baudelaire children. For this very reason, every life that has touched theirs seems to suffer the same fate. There have been more fires than can be counted, poisonous mushrooms, harpoon guns, and a very angry crowd. These perils are what takes us to where our story is now, to young Alice Oswald, who had befriended the Baudelaires many years ago, still suffering through the consequences of her brief brush with the children when she was just a young girl. Now eighteen, there is so much more that can go wrong. If you would like to believe that Alice and Klaus found each other again, fell in love, and healed their broken hearts to live happily ever after, I implore you, return to the search page and choose another story. This is your last chance to return and find another happy love story, for it will only become more disastrous.

Alice was now a young woman with her red hair as unruly as herself. On this particular day, she was walking into a dreary college town for the first time. It was obvious that she was a newcomer, for the paper was so close to her nose as she inspected it that she did not realize she was being watched by several people, all of whom had their identities hidden behind objects like sunglasses, building corners, and newspapers. She had come to the town of Blackhill to attend Carroll Woolf University, as it could be seen by the large suitcases that followed her and the keychain that hung out of her pocket. The town was smaller than her home city, which had bustling sidewalks and constant flow of voices, which made Blackhill uncomfortable to walk through. Perhaps it was the first time that she noticed how the numerous number of people in her hometown made her feel comfortable.

The town of Blackhill was a very fine district, with its cookie cutter houses painted different colors and the many stores to keep both the locals and the university people busy during their time off. Blackhill was comprised of a few oddball stores like an all repair shop and specialty store of kitchen utensils and machinery, three restaurants, two clothing stores, one dimly lit market with only three kinds of fruit, and a rundown bookstore that was still open even though no one ever seemed to go inside. The town was filled with older people, while all of the young people seemed to be condensed into the university, which here means they would stay behind the gated fence of the campus where they were safe from the leering, gleaming eyes that roamed the town.

Allie was unfortunately incapable of hiding her presence as she entered the town, all because of her bright orange hair. It was a flaming sign that let everyone in the nearby distance know that there was a girl standing there at the end of Firefly Lane. Thankfully, because it was move-in day at the university, all the other students were arriving in Blackhill at the same time. From down the street, Allie can see the line of cars that were parked outside the gates of Carroll Woolf, with parents helping their children move into the dorms. Fresh mattresses were being moved off the top of the motorcars, piles of boxes being carried by men who are flirting with the women who are bound to be across the hall from them, and scrambles of conversation that muffle the way someone says a tearful goodbye. As she walks up to the campus, Allie felt very lonely in the crowd full of people who already had someone to be by their side.

By the time Allie had found her dorm room, she sank onto the bare mattress that was provided for her. The university was small enough to be able to provide every student with their own bedrooms, their prestigious degree and the selective board making sure that they saw themselves as special as the rest of the world saw them. This was not always a good thing.

Allie's father had been a graduate of Carroll Woolf, and legacy had always been the plan. Legacy, you see, dear reader, is what people call it when someone goes to the same school as someone in their family, usually it was a parent. Legacy isn't always a good thing, because it means you may not have gotten in because you are especially good at math or science, but because you know someone else. But it had been a dream that her parents had always carried throughout her high school years, that her father would come up with her, shake hands, reunite with old friends, give her an insider's tour of the campus, and give her the grandest hug and a lingering kiss from her mom as she cried when they would depart. That was what the first day of college looked like for many students, even the students who shared the building with her now. But that wasn't the day the young Oswald girl got. Instead, after dropping her things off, too lonely to isolate herself in a room with pale yellow wallpaper, she set out to explore the campus.

There were people roaming everywhere, pleased with the warm weather or the greeting of another person. There were also plenty of other new students who were also seemingly lonely like Alice. Like her, they would look around, a mixture of curious and sad, waiting for someone to come up to them as well, but every time they had the opportunity to make a new friend they would become shy and keep walking. Alice was no different from these freshmen. Bringing her book closer to her chest, Alice muttered to herself about forgetting to bring the map of the campus that she had been given upon entering.

Perhaps it would have been very different if Alice had remembered her map, perhaps our story of all the woes that Alice encountered would have ended here if she would have known her way around maybe she would have gone to the library or the student center. Maybe she would have had what people would consider a regular college experience. Instead, Alice had wandered into one of the many buildings on campus that held classrooms and a very frightened disciplinarian. She had only been walking down the hallway for a short while, peeking into the classrooms and imagining herself in the next week, when she heard the sharp cry and a very vicious crash.

I cannot be for sure how it must have sounded to Alice that day, but I could imagine from my own experience in walking down a hallway with a voice cracking through the silence. It must have been loud and echoed around her, a phrase which here means she was not sure which way the voice came from. It must have reminded her of another time she heard a scream like that through a smoky hallway with a great many doors. That must have been why Alice found herself running towards each door, searching for the source of such a scream. By the fourth door Alice had found the person she had been looking for - or rather she found their legs.

In room 120 of Lighthouse Hall, which was, in fact, an office for one of the professors, Alice found a pair of legs kicking at the air as the rest of the person's body was trapped under at least a hundred books and a fallen bookcase. One might think it would have been a funny sight, and, were you a book lover, you may have always wanted to find yourself in a pile of books, but the truth of the matter is being attacked by multiple volumes of dead authors and a heavy bookshelf was probably more painful than one would appreciate. Hesitant at first, Alice's voice was small when she spoke as she stepped forward to help the person who was trapped.

"Um… hello? Are you okay?" she asked with uncertainty.

The voice of the young woman must have been a blessing to the person trapped under the books, their body moving underneath with groans and forcing the pile to shift.

"I'm alright, I'm just kind of stuck in here. Can you help me move some of these?" The voice called out from beneath all the pages.

Alice stepped forward toward the pile and began picking up piles of books, stacking them in a disordered fashion and moving them off of the person. It took a short moment for Alice to make a dozen or so piles and the body underneath to shift enough to free them from the attacking hardcovers. When the person was free enough to rest on their elbows to peer over the edge of the angled bookcase, Alice saw that the person who had been stuck was a man with salt and pepper hair and a faded white scar going from his left jawline to his ear. He had a solemn face, but it broke when a smile split his lips showing a row of teeth. He shook his head wildly, his hair swaying around his face reminding Alice a bit of a shaggy dog.

"Aren't I glad to see you! I was worried my vision when I saw a lick of orange - I'm glad it was only your hair," the man said as she started to free his hips as well. Alice was confused by his comment, but when he didn't explain any further she just started to help him move the books again. He was simply pushing the books off of him as though he were freeing himself from sand. She was almost surprised with how he could push the books because his arms were so long and thin. He seemed to be made up of jerky movements of long limbs and shaggy hair.

Finally free, the man turned crawled over the remaining pile of books and under the bookshelf. Once he stood up, Alice had to crane her neck to look up at the unsurprisingly tall man, it seemed only fitting that if his arms were so long that his legs would be longer. She studied him for a moment with his professional attire but with a now dusty and crooked shirt. Getting a better look at him, Alice realizes two things at once; he was older than most students would be and he was most likely a professor. Squeaking with surprise, Alice stood up straight to introduce herself properly to the man, as she noticed for the first time that they were in an office and not a classroom.

"I'm glad I can be of assistance. My name is Alice Oswald," she said. Alice felt as though she should bow or curtsy perhaps, something to show that she had respect for the man though she had found in such a state, she thought it would be too weird, so she stood still. Expecting someone of his stature to be reclusive - a word which here means reserved, unfriendly, and distant - Alice was not anticipating for him to be so jolly as he started to speak more.

"Oh! It's very nice to meet you, young Alice! You truly did come at the perfect time, I must say," putting out his hand as he spoke, he went to shake her hand, "I'm Professor Charles Dodge, I teach English here at Carroll Woolf." He was smiling widely, looking almost childlike. His sense of wistfulness must have thrown Alice off kilter for just a moment, which is a feeling people get when they aren't quite sure what to do or say. When she shook his hand he moved their arms awkwardly up and down, their arms doing a weird wiggle she had never experienced in a handshake. Had she known him better, Alice might have mentioned how interesting the classes were or the way the fabric of his pants was the same as a dress he had once felt under his fingertips. But, Alice had no way of knowing any of these things, so instead, she turned and looked at all his books.

"It's sad to see so many books on the floor. Would you like some help putting them back as well?" Normally, Alice would not have wanted to stay and do such a tedious job on what should be such an exciting day, on that day though, she had wanted company on what was supposed to be an exciting day in her life, and spending that time with books and a professor who was bound to appreciate them as much as herself didn't seem as bad. Accepting her help, Professor Dodge started a conversation with her as they piled the books into piles.

"Perhaps this is a great time to reorganize my shelves, I suppose," he said as he laughed. "Why don't we put them in piles in order of the last name of the author? I had them in order of genre for far too long."

"Oh! I organize mine by genre, but I can see how useful simple alphabetizing could be," she said as she gathered a few books.

"We can bring them in piles on the other side of the room and do it there," the man said, pointing to where he meant, bringing his own pile with him. "So, tell me about yourself, Alice. What year are you?"

"Oh! This is my very first day, actually. This is my first year at Carroll Woolf."

"Excellent!" the man exclaimed, it was a shout that was loud enough to make the listening ears in the building hear him far clearer than they had before. In fact, it was so loud that it had nearly scared Alice, who, herself, had been standing right beside him. "I enjoy new students so much. You are sure to have a grand time, Miss Alice."

"That is what my father had always promised me," the young redhead with a meek smile. They continued their work as Professor Dodge asked her more questions.

"And what are you studying?"

"I'm studying English, actually, Professor."

"Ah, so that means I might have to be lenient on you now that you have saved me from a paper-backed grave," the older man said with a laugh, making Alice fret with the thought that she would be given special treatment.

"No, no. Please, do not do that, Professor Dodge. I would not want that at all!" She squeaked the pleaded, but it had made him laugh as she eased her with the reassurance that he was teasing her. He waved his hands in surrender and even patted the top of her head a few times.

"I'm very surprised that you were the one that found me," the professor said as he brought another stack of books over. "My assistant had said that he would be here soon, so I would have anticipated he would be the only one likely to rescue me."

"Perhaps your assistent was not in the hallway, because anyone there would have heard your help," she mentioned with a smile, slightly teasing the adult who seemed so much like a companion her age. He seemed to like that she was willing to because he laughed heartily.

While they chatted some more, Alice noted some of the odd books that the professor had kept in his collection; titles such as Vile and Fiendish Deserters, Descriptions of the Fires of Venice, and a rather large book entitled The Various Famous Dead. She thought they were all so eclectic that she wasn't sure why he had wanted to put them all together on a shelf. She eyed them for quite some time, trying to formulate how to ask about them, unaware that there were eyes watching her curiosity grow, eyes that had no intention of giving any answers.

"I think that is enough books to alphabetize, for now, we might have already overloaded ourselves after all," he had pointed out, he turned her by the shoulders with a flourish towards the largest pile.

The two of them were about to start doing just that when the door to the office door opened again, this time revealing a lanky young man with long, untidy, curly mop of black hair and old-fashioned, circular, black glasses. He stood there with round brown eyes opened exceptionally wide and his mouth hanging open; there were odd sounds coming from him, stumbling of vowels and stammered words as he looked at the mess of the scene. In his hands were the remnants of why he had been so long, two tall cups of coffee still steaming in their capped paper cups.

"What- Are you- How had… Professor Dodge, didn't I say to wait for me to get the step ladder when I came back before trying to get the book?" The young man had gone from shock to worry to confused to accusatory in as little time as it took to finally formulate a full sentence. He would never hear the actual response to what would have been the professor's reply because he immediately began again when he saw the flash of orange and then the entirety of the person that had joined them in the office.

"And you got a poor student to help you clean your mess? You have no shame, Professor Dodge," the young man said as he sighed, putting down the coffee cups on the desk at the very back of the room.

"Come now, Mr. Nomer, you don't expect me to do all of this on my own, do you?" The professor was laughing off his young companion's chastising, scratching the back of his head with an almost shameless smile.

The two men bantered for a moment, giving Alice her only chance to look over the man who must be Professor Dodge's assistant before they were introduced. She noted for a moment that he was probably no older than her age but was dressed as professionally as the professor. She could see the small messenger bag was resting at his hips with a massive book peeking over the top of the bag, unable to be properly contained due to its size. The only thing that seemed odd about him to her was the fact that his dress shoes were so scuffed and tattered that they looked as though they had walked with him across the globe. Alice did not know just how right she was, for those shoes had been with him with a very poorly named reptile, vast stretches of desert and dust, treacherous mountains, and many different boat rides.

Finally, when the two men turned to the young woman again, her green eyes met the brown orbs of the young man for the first time.

"Mr. Nomer, this is Miss Alice Oswald. She was kind enough to save me in your absence," the older man said teasingly, making the young man grumble about having told him to wait.

"Klaus B. Nomer. But, please, just call me Klaus. I'm not of any importance, so you don't need to speak of me so formally," he said this all with a smile on his face, his hand reaching out to shake her hand.

Suddenly, Alice was a little girl once more, her hair in a high ponytail and fewer freckles on her face than there were now. She felt small and naive, and she was smitten with a boy in the way only a child could. Suddenly, she was looking into the face of a man she thought she would never see again.

Her face was flushed and her little heart shaped mouth was open with surprise. Her eyes tried to scan his, trying to find any sense that he had the same realization that she did. With renewed bashfulness, she excitedly reached for his hand and said a name she hopes he would remember.

"Allie," the young woman said with her chiming voice.

There was something there on his face, his brows scrunched on his forehead as he looked at her in confusion, as though he was unsure of something. But the expression fell and he gave her a gentle but guarded smile.

"It's nice to meet you, Allie," he said to her as she frowned dejectedly - a phrase which here means with disappointment and a sense of rejection. "Thank you for taking my place, I don't think I would have heard the end of it had he not been rescued as soon as he was," he said with a laugh.

Alice stared at the young man for a moment longer, taking in his appearance more significantly now. She felt like she was looking for signs of distress from the years, as though he would have fresh cuts and bruises or disheveledness. All she found was his a piece of lint on his grey pullover vest, wrinkles on his slacks, and yellow aging on the pages of his bookmarked tome. Everything seemed like normal, everyday imperfections. Everything, except those shoes.

As the young man was getting instructions on what they were doing, Alice's face started to become a pretty pink with an allover dusting of freckles. Certain she was not wrong, she was at a loss at how to approach this new older version of the boy she once knew.

Yes, perhaps everything would have been very different if Alice had gone anywhere else.