The Butterfly Effect (Emison)

Chapter Three

That weekend, Alison finds herself googling Professor Fields.

She tells herself it's out of sheer boredom, or maybe some worthwhile research in case she has to veer towards blackmail in the future; not because she's interested in learning about the woman who's quickly driving her to the brink of insanity. Just... conflicted.

She doesn't find much at first. It's not like the name 'Emily Fields' rings any bells for the average person. She isn't famous by any means, and god – why does Fields have to be such a popular surname?

After refining her search in the campus news reports, she finds several articles mentioning Emily, all of which date back to the last three years. Apparently Spencer had been right on that part; Emily hadn't been teaching for very long.

The rest of the articles contain unnecessary facts she already knows, or could look for on any other day if she, you know. Cares. Which she doesn't.

Nonetheless she breezes through them with the absorption of a sponge, taking in the newly acquired information with a slightly less radical idea of what Professor Fields represents. She's not a vampire, for one. Or she could be, but Alison had never been much of a believer in mythical creatures anyway.

She'd graduated from Boston University with a Master's in Communications, not that that's in any way surprising. The woman might as well be notoriously known for her sharp tongue, if she can cut through people with her vocabulary alone.

She had claimed a teaching position in Public Relations upon graduation, and was promoted as the head of the Communications department in her second year – an 'impressive feat,' according to the article. She also grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania, a place called Rosewood.

And she'll be turning thirty in the upcoming weeks.

Alison freezes at that, unwittingly considering the magnitude this new insight brings. Emily might look like a vision edited straight from photoshop, but Alison hadn't expected her to be this young.

Granted, there's still a near eight year gap between them – Alison being twenty two – but that's beside the point.

Eventually Alison comes across another name linked to one particular article; one Pamela Fields who had been a part of the university committee several years back, having left the school board to pursue a career in politics, and is speculated to have gotten her daughter the job.

Daughter. Huh.

Alison's head is pounding by the time she exits out of the page and, leaning back in her chair, she presses her palms over her closed eyelids. She hadn't discovered anything remotely useful in the hour or two she'd spent stalking her professor via the internet.

And yet, somehow, she feels like she's learned more than she ever thought she would.

The following week Alison avoids Professor Fields like the plague – a not-so-easy task when she's sitting directly in front of said professor, and has a knack for peering up every so often to catch a glimpse of the woman currently invading her thoughts.

It's awkward, to say the least. Maybe she's just imagining it, but there are moments where she can practically feel Emily's heated gaze fall over her hunched shoulders when she isn't looking. And if that isn't the epitome of paranoia, then there's the issue of her sanity that remains, because every time Alison does look, Emily's eyes are focused entirely on the paperwork in front of her. No glance. No smirk. No physical indication that she even knows of Alison's existence.

And it's just... awkward. And also really, really shitty.

As pissed off as she is from their last encounter, it doesn't stop the heavy weight bearing down on her chest, one that feels suspiciously like guilt. Guilt that had molded itself in sometime during the weekend and had only proved to fester continuously over her frazzled thoughts.