A/N: Please note, I don't live in Toronto. I work in a library and thus, I'm basing this library scene off of the library policies at my workplace. If any Canadians want to correct me, I'll make note of it for the next time. I hope you guys like the chapter; relatively short, but more to come soon. As always, comments are my life and my drug; you can't deny an addict right?

Chapter 12

I walked into the public library and looked around the lobby. As I entered, a large white and oak desk labeled "Circulation Desk" with two computers was before me. A bored teenager sat behind the desk, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else than here at the moment. The place was so quiet that I could hear the electric lights humming from the ceiling and the sound of my shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. Come to think of it, I didn't know tennis shoes could click on hardwood.

I approached the desk and the teenager brightened. Apparently, happy that some poor sucker walked into the door and was anxious to help. I think I'd be happy as well.

"May I help you?" The girl asked, looking hopefully at me.

"Do you have public internet here?" I asked and the teen sighed, like she'd answered the question a hundred times before.

"Go down to where it says "Information" and the reference librarian will hook you up." She said, gesturing with her left hand to head to the left, sounding a bit disappointed the question was so easy.

I thanked her and walked down the single step to get from the lobby to the…seeming adult side of the library. There were rows of computers set up and book shelves surrounding the area. I could see a space mural painted on the far left wall before me with signs designating it the Young Adult section.

I glanced around quickly and saw the desk the teen had indicated, very clearly marked "Information" in large black letters from a vertical column from the ceiling. As I approached, the librarian looked up at me. She was middle aged with short dark hair and glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose.

"Can I help you?" She asked in a relatively cheery tone.

"The girl at the desk told me to come down to see you about the internet." The woman smiled at me and handed me a single page policy I had to read and sign. It was a, what seemed to be, generic privacy statement that included the library couldn't be held responsible for what you look at on public computers and not to give out personal information and no buying/selling, blah blah blah. I filled out the form saying that I read and agreed to the policy and she told me to select a computer and I had a half hour time limit unless no one was waiting then I could take as long as I needed. I thanked her and sat down at a computer that was more off to the side and away from prying eyes.

I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling nervous as I pulled up Google and typed into the search field "Tom Quincy". I came up with about a billion websites hits and groaned to myself.

This was going to take awhile.

What I learned about Tom Quincy, after two hours of searching fan sites, the man is a player extraordinaire, was a member of a 90's boy band known as Boyz Attack, and worked as a producer after he left the band and got denied a solo-record from his manager.

Oh, and he's hot; at least, according to a billion posted messages on message boards. Most of the sites were fan sites and I couldn't find much in the way of pictures; most were from concerts or blurred peperattzi shots.

I scrolled through and stopped when I saw "Tom Quincy and Jude Harrison to be married". Jude? I clicked the link and an article from People magazine loaded onto the screen. I read the article and clicked the link that said images and felt my breath catch in my throat. My eyes widened as I took in the couple.

Holy shit.

Despite being a few years younger, that man in the picture with Jude, could have been me. The first picture was of the two of them posing for the camera. His arms were around her waist and her head lying back on his chest. The next was of a kiss and the last of the "customized" rings they had ordered.

I shook my head to clear it. No, that couldn't have been me. Jude…she…no. I banished the thought and went back to the Google search and took a deep breath to calm my nerves. Jude would have said something. Besides, didn't she say her husband…I frowned. Died?

I scrolled to the top of the page and edited my search to add "death" at the end and a new list of sites popped up. The first was an editorial from Friday, June 18, 2011 on the CTV site. Ah-ha, I thought triumphantly as I clicked the link and skimmed the opening of the article to read what happened.

This picture perfect spring day ended in tragedy.

During the evening rush hour, a 12-car accident occurred on the express way. The driver of a 2009 Ford Taurus went to cut-infront of another vehicle, and failed to notice another car in the blind-spot. The Taurus force from the car caused the other driver to loose control, resulting in one of the worst accidents of the decade resulting in the deaths of five people, including Toronto's own Thomas Quincy, a producer at G Major Records and husband of Instant Star Winner, Jude Harrison-Quincy...

I couldn't read anymore of this. My head was spinning and I suddenly felt like the walls of the building were closing in on me. I quickly clicked the 'x' on the browser window and hastily got up from the chair and rushed out of the library.

It's not true. I wasn't this…this…famous guy. I wasn't…no. It's…I shoved the bar on the door to get outside and stopped on the porch and took a deep breath of fresh air, trying to calm my frazzled nerves and harried thoughts. I couldn't be. Someone would have…should have told me by now. Jude would have…

I saw the images on the internet of the two of us…them together. She would have.

Jude even said herself she was mistaken. I mean…everyone has a twin, right? It's been proven before. People can look like each other, I mean, look at celebrity look a likes? I could be just a look a like. Yeah, that's it.

I still felt frazzled and physically shaken. I couldn't be Tom Quincy. I couldn't. It wasn't possible. It was a coincidence.

I stepped away from the library and strode off towards home.

I couldn't be him. It's all…car accidents aren't all that infrequent. I told myself; it doesn't mean that…this could be true. I took a deep breathe and shoved my hands deep in my pockets. It wasn't true.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, I wasn't convinced.