In the span of her short twenty-five years on the planet- only ten of which had so far been spent dating- Lizzie had amassed a rather impressive list of losers, perverts, and emotionally stunted dickheads that'd manage to dodge the clutches of natural selection by the grace of god (i.e. Kyle the Thief, Dylan the Meth Lab Technician, and Nate the Drummer she met on OK Cupid.)
Unfortunately her list of good ones that got away was equally, depressingly as long, and every second she found herself staring at Danny Wickham, Lizzie could feel that list growing longer.
From the hidden comfort between the kitchen and the register, the grizzled veterans in the Chili's crew watched the latest charge being thrown to the wolves with baited breath.
Danny flashed the customer a perfect set of teeth. "You wanted the southwestern combo with a second burrito in place of the fajitas, and ranchero sauce on the side- easy refried beans, no rice. The nachos you want no tomatoes, no green onions, no sour cream, no beans- meat and white cheese only- guac on the side. The loaded baked potato without sour cream, bacon, chives, butter salt and pepper. And you wanted the house salad with the vinaigrette on the side." He paused. "Did I miss anything?"
Squinting her eyes the woman adjusted her glasses and casually took a sip of her water (no lemon). "No, I believe that's everything."
A mixture of cheers and groans erupted from the kitchen area as Danny returned triumphantly with the order in hand.
"Never ever doubt the power of my tutelage," Lizzie said as she grabbed a crumpled twenty from the hand of a fellow server.
"...that lady was off her game today…"
"Can we share that?" Danny asked, all dimples. "Cup of coffee, your treat?"
Danny Wickham with his soft hazel eyes, and his blonde hair, and his dimples (and his clingy Chili's uniform) was exactly the type of guy Lizzie wanted to put on her list, and every time he smiled in her direction she felt herself compelled to swoon.
"You know, for the sake of a job well done," he said.
Lizzie felt her eyelashes batting, and suppressed a giggle. "I wish I could but I gotta head straight home. I'm going out of town for a couple of days and I'm a last minute packer…"
"...somebody here doesn't read US Weekly…"
"Shut up, Navi" Lizzie snapped at the hostess breezing past she and Danny.
"...introduce me to Fitzwilliam Darcy…"
The second the Darcy name was uttered, Danny's eyes widened considerably. "Darcy broadcasting Fitzwilliam Darcy?" he asked with a curious tilt of his head.
A thin smile crossed Lizzie's face. "I just call him 'babe'," she said.
**
Dramamine: check.
Scopolamine patch(es): check.
Gravol: check.
Saltines: check.
He checked and rechecked his carry-on obsessively making sure everything he needed was there and everything was in its place. Not three minutes would go by before he was feverishly unzipping the black bag, hands diving back inside.
From behind the big lenses of her trendy sunglasses, Lizzie watched Fitzwilliam as though she were studying a nature documentary. With a casual sip from her milkshake, she used her free hand to pop out one of her earbuds.
"Forget something?" she sarcastically asked.
"No," was Fitzwilliam's gruff reply as he zipped the bag up once again and sat back against his cushiony AMEX lounge seat.
Eyes rolling, Lizzie counted under her breath (three, two…) and like clockwork, Fitzwilliam's hands scrambled for the bag.
"Okay," she began and plucked the bag from his anxious hands, "you are driving me crazy. What is so essential that you insist on checking every five seconds to see if it's still there?"
Fitzwilliam frowned. "I'm not...it's not...it's really none of your business." He made a grab for his luggage, but Lizzie easily maneuvered it out of reach.
"That's debatable." Lizzie pursed her lips. "Trust me Darcy, your…" Undoing the zipper she peered inside and quickly gazed up at him with a quizzical brow, "pharmacy won't disappear."
Visibly irritated, Fitzwilliam snatched his bag out of her mitts and set it beside his chair. "I have plane phobia," he grumbled. "Can you drop it?"
Giggling Lizzie actually smiled at him with warmth. "I swear I won't tease you."
Fitzwilliam shook his head. "I swore I asked you to drop it."
"You have enough to kill ten horses in that bag, and it's not going to help you." Ignoring his attitude, Lizzie removed her sunglasses and perched them on the top of her head. "The trick is to pick a focal point and spend all your time concentrating on it. If one thing is occupying your mind then your brain doesn't have time to come up with all of those nasty thoughts about being 35,000ft in the air."
His complexion greened at the mere mention of 35,000ft and he swallowed the rush of saliva that filled his mouth.
"Personally," Lizzie continued, "I like to focus on Morrissey."
"Lizzie can we not…" he stopped and gave her a look, "Morrissey?"
She shrugged. "I think he's got a kind face."
"You're a great judge of character," he snickered. "I'll keep that in mind."
"I'm not saying you have to think about Morrissey."
Fitzwilliam's heart beat a mile a minute as he and Lizzie made their way towards the comfortable leather of their assigned first class seats. He'd always harbored a particularly deep hatred for planes- there were childhood wounds in the shapes of watching his parents take off all of the time (scabbed over by nannies he was left behind with) that liked to crack and bleed a little whenever his eyes glanced at a tarmac. There was the altitude change that made his ears plug and ache, and the intrusive thoughts that simultaneously admired man's ability to overcome a wingless existence by developing a faster, efficient method of air travel and giving it complimentary champagne and hot towels and a movie (and no mangy bird could ever dream of that), yet feared a long, fiery fall back to earth with an oxygen mask dangling in front his face.
Lizzie slid into the window seat and immediately removed a book from her purse, while Fitzwilliam flopped down in total envy of her calm. His mind and his stomach were locked into a fierce battle- the stomach was strong on the comeback, doing violent summersaults against the rest of him.
Lizzie didn't bother to look in his direction. "Pick a focal point, Darcy. Or let me know when you need this barf bag."
Fitzwilliam's head snapped in her direction with a dirty look on his face and an insult on his tongue, when suddenly he stopped.
With her nose buried in the pages of a Garcia-Marquez, a wavy auburn lock escaped the chokehold of her hair tie and curled itself slightly, elegantly around Lizzie's ear the same time as the sunlight hit her skin at a faultless angle.
Lizzie Bennet had freckles across the bridge of her nose and Fitzwilliam couldn't stop staring at them.
He watched silently enraptured when she tucked that errant strand of hair back behind her ear. When she smiled to herself amused by something she'd read, Fitzwilliam smiled, too. And when Lizzie casually tilted her head, he held off a strong urge to run his finger along her neck.
Lizzie Bennet had the kind of face he could spend all day contemplating. He wanted to know the story behind the tiny scar on her chin. He wanted to count her freckles and connect her dots and invent constellations out of them, and by the time she muttered "feeling any better?" the plane was in the middle of taxiing and rapidly gaining speed.
Fitzwilliam directed his attention to the back of the seat in front of him, and prayed Lizzie didn't notice his blushing. "I don't want to curl up and sob, so there's been progress," he said.
"I told you Morrissey has a soothing face," she said turning a page.
"We're going to have to have a talk about Morrissey." he chuckled. "But, thank you."
Lizzie shrugged with a grin. "Fitzwilliam, it was really nothing."
**
When he stepped off of the plane never so happy in his life to see the ground of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, the very first thing Darcy's eyes set upon was a crudely markered sign. In rather large and rather pink bubble letters
FITZIE
&
FITZIE'S LADY FRIEND
shone like a beacon of impossibly stupid and much hated childhood nicknames.
There would always be time to wring her scrawny neck, but for now he was simply happy to see his baby sister standing in front of him. Georgie squealed when she spotted him and waved her sign, and Fitzwilliam couldn't help himself dropping his bag (the pharmacy giving a loud clunk) as he swept her up into his arms for a spin.
"Put me down! I can't look cool like this," Georgie told him laughing.
Fitzwilliam smiled and said thumping the sign with his finger, "You're a brat. I don't go around advertising your embarrassing nicknames."
Standing on her tiptoes Georgie made a bit of a show of peeping over the tops of her brother's shoulders.
"What's the matter?" he asked sarcastically. "Not as stoked to see me as you thought you'd be?"
"Where's your girlfriend?" Georgie said. "I'm gonna be disappointed if I have to deal with you alone."
"Lizzie? She's…" Fitzwilliam's head whipped from side to side frantically before turning back to Georgie. "She was right next to me," he finished, puzzled. Spinning around again this time he spotted her heading their way from the opposite end of the terminal; Lizzie casually walked through the rush of people somehow managing to drag her suitcase with one hand while holding a massive Nathan's hotdog with the other (taking the occasional bite.)
Fitzwilliam fought the urge to smile and lost once Lizzie joined them. "Nice to see you could make it," he teased.
Lizzie apologized with her mouth full and he grimaced.
Georgie giggled. "You can swallow first. We don't mind waiting."
Blushing, Lizzie chewed the remainder in her mouth and fought off the desire to swallow the rest in her hand whole. "I feel like I haven't eaten in years- I've been a little sick lately." Putting her hand on her stomach she sent a sly snicker in Fitzwilliam's direction. "I'm probably incubating a tapeworm."
Georgie mental noted the slight bulge of her brother's eyes as she extended a hand to Lizzie. "Hi! I'm-"
"Georgiana," Lizzie finished for her and ditched the suitcase handle for Georgie's hand. "I'm…" spotting the sign out of the corner of her eye she said, "Fitzie's lady friend."
**
On the outside Georgiana Darcy appeared to be all sweetness and light with a gentle voice but she had an evil streak. It was a streak about as dark as drowning her brother's action figures in toilet water and spitting off of balconies with the knowledge of a crowded sidewalk below- so while she may not have kept a body parts collection in her freezer the penchant for sadism was there and it drove her to room 304 at the Marriott a few minutes past 6am eastern standard time.
Armed with the belief that people were never as honest as they are when sleeping and when they first wake, Georgie set an alarm for the kind of hour a person should never see unless they have cattle to tend to, rolling out of bed at 5am. Calling on her higher powers as she quietly slipped off of the Exeter campus, Georgie made her way to the hotel with a strange nagging that something wasn't quite right in the state of Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth.
Something she'd noticed in the behavior of the two when they thought no one was watching: they seemed exceedingly uncomfortable with each other. There was a moment on the way to dinner that Georgie put her skills at pretending to straighten her hair in the flip down mirror to use, and stealthily observed the couple in the backseat.
At a traffic light she noticed Fitzwilliam board stiff save for a few glances in Lizzie's direction. His 'lady friend' on the other hand, took to sinking against the passenger door with her eyes fixed out of the window. Certainly this was not the happy picture Ryan Seacrest had painted so vividly, and if something was up Georgie was going to get to the bottom of it.
The elevator lurched into a stop, its doors sliding open to reveal the hotel's third floor with a tell-tale ding as Georgie crossed the threshold. It wasn't exactly hard to spot room 304 in spite of the halls deceptively infinite appearance. After the hotdog at the airport, and a cleared plate at dinner, Georgie was sure that behind the door (the one with the service cart piled with dirty dishes next to it) she'd find her brother.
Eyes roving over a graveyard of pizza crust, and chicken bones and what appeared to be a schooner of ice cream, Georgie shook her head. "Lizzie might need to look into that tapeworm."
**
Fitzwilliam was in the midst of switching to another uncomfortable position when a rather loud knock caused his eyes to fly open. With a heavy sigh he turned a bloodshot baby blue in the direction of the door and casually rolled off of the common room couch.
He yawned.
He quickly glanced through the peephole.
He made an unattractive (but necessary) scratch at the front of his boxers.
He put his hand on the doorknob.
He paused.
He yawned (again.)
He glanced through the peephole (again) and mouthed "shit" as he quickly ran back to the couch to gather up any and all evidence of the sleeping arrangements. Georgie's persistent knocks followed him to Lizzie's bedroom door as he threw it open and stepped blindly towards the closet. The extra pillows and blankets chucked inside, he closed the door on Lizzie's light snoring and brought his breathing back down to normal.
Georgie was all smiles. "Good morning, starshine."
"The earth says hello," he grumbled.
"I want to take Lizzie out for breakfast." Taking a quick glance in the direction of the room service cart, she added with a frown, "But I fear she may have exploded. Where is she? "
"She's playing hockey," Fitzwilliam deadpanned. "She's knocked out, Georgie. She's exhausted and needs to-"
"So go wake her up then." Georgie pushed her way inside. "I want an egg mcmuffin."
With Georgiana on his heels, Fitzwilliam reluctantly opened Lizzie's door.
Awkwardly positioning himself on the opposite end of the bed he clicked on the lamp, and swallowed the lump that'd formed in his throat as he made a move to gently tap Lizzie.
"...Lizzie…"
In response Lizzie snuggled further down allowing the spot of bare skin Fitzwilliam had just hit to be covered with the duvet. He grit his teeth and repositioned, and tried for a light shake.
"...Lizzie...hey Lizzie…"
That time there was a snort- from the direction of the doorway and from Georgie's mouth.
Closing his eyes Fitzwilliam quickly gathered himself to try this from an entirely different, much more dangerous angle. Slowly he pulled the covers back from Lizzie's shoulder and leaned in to put his lips to her ear.
"Elizabeth...c'mon sleepy head…"
His voice was husky as he raked a hand across Lizzie's back, and got a delightful little whimper for his efforts that made him forget entirely about the presence of his sister. That begged him to put his nose in the crook of Lizzie's neck and sniff.
Lizzie smelled like apple shampoo and she looked frightened.
Frightened? The second it took for Fitzwilliam's brain to register the fact Lizzie was awake and the second it took for Lizzie to recognize the man hovering over her with his nose nuzzled in her neck was a single overlapping circle.
Lizzie bolted up with a scream and hit Fitzwilliam square in the face. Hard. "What the hell are you doing?" she shouted.
"I'm bleeding internally!" he shouted right back, clutching his nose. "What is wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me? Why are you in here lurking like a goddamn….!"
From across the room Georgie loudly cleared her throat, and a surprised Lizzie whipped her head in the direction of the doorway.
"Good morning, starshine." Georgie smiled.
**
"Did I mention how very sorry I am? Because I'm really- really sorry."
Fitzwilliam's reply was muffled by the bloody rag against his nose. "Yeah, only about a million times."
Smiling sheepishly Lizzie positioned herself between his legs, and Fitzwilliam looked down at her from atop his perch on the bathroom counter with his brows knit. "Should I be afraid?"
She rolled her eyes and gently took the rag out of his hands. "Growing up with four sisters means my hands should be registered and insured deadly weapons. And for the millionth-and-one time, Darcy- I'm sorry." Leaning in close she inspected his nose. "It doesn't look broken," she said.
"You sound confident," he told her dryly.
"Did you catch the four sisters part?" Lizzie shook her head. "Jane's 'Mother Mary' but those other three bitches are forces to be reckoned with. If I wasn't pulling their hair, I was pulling the hair of someone on their behalf." she chuckled. "Clan Bennet has a proud tradition of scrappy neighborhood fights that ultimately leaves us skilled in at home medical care and banned from Georgio's Pizza."
"What are their names?"
Lizzie handed him the rag. "Whose name?"
"Your sisters," he said. "The bitches."
"Ohh." she grinned. "Well there's Mary who's nineteen; somewhere around grade eight she hit a pit of despair only Gerard Way can understand, and she likes to express this by shopping at Hot Topic. Then there's Lydia and Kit- seventeen year old twin terrors, complete walking hormone bombs."
Fitzwilliam nodded a bit awkwardly at a loss as to what to say next. With her glowing skin, and her haphazard ponytail (and her eyes), Lizzie Bennet was making his nerves get the best of him. He felt gangly in a way that invoked the quiet terror of sitting behind a crush in homeroom, and it seemed as though a whole eternity passed in silence as she fiddled with the bottom of her tank.
"So...do you have any other siblings?" she asked.
"No," he replied flatly.
Feeling utterly defeated by his sudden shyness, Fitzwilliam made a move to jump down from the counter and Lizzie instinctually backed up to give him room.
"Next time we're in the same town as your sister, I promise I won't fall asleep to Forensic Files if you promise to stick to gentle shakes to wake me up."
Staring at her wordlessly, Fitzwilliam left Lizzie all alone with a thin lipped smile to wonder if he ever bothered to finish a conversation.
"Sorry! Again!" she shouted at his back.
**
"...it's okay, I've got this…"
"...no, I invited you out. I'll pay."
Too fast for Georgie, Lizzie was already pushing her debit card into the cashier's hand. The rocky (violent) start to the morning had her itching to make a good impression.
"It declined…"
"What's 'declined'?" Georgie asked in confusion.
"...do you have another card you'd like to use…?"
She reeled momentarily from the embarrassment of a $7.80 decline on McDonald's breakfast. Her half of the rent was turned over to Jane before she left (-$750) and then there was the bill for that whole wasted year of community college Pell didn't pick up the tab for (-$75), and the gas she put in Navi's car for a ride home (-$15) when photogs made the walk back impossible, and she got those grossly marked up airport hotdogs (-$15.75) without thinking about her direct deposit and how it wouldn't hit her account until 8am pacific tomorrow.
She briefly bit down on her tongue to keep from swearing. "I'm so sorry, I totally forgot to tell my bank I was traveling this weekend," Lizzie said to the cashier and added with a sheepish turn in Georgiana's direction, "um do you mind after all?"
**
"Can I ask you a few questions…?" Georgie began, pausing to take a bite of her egg mcmuffin. "...On behalf of the gossip ho community at Exeter Academy, of course."
"Sure," Lizzie said mid chew, her mouth full of hashbrown. She blushed, swallowing. "Sorry."
Georgie laughed. "Question one: are you threatened by Ms. Lohan?"
"I'm naturally intimidated by anyone who smokes a red to be quite honest," Lizzie said.
"Question two: how did you meet my brother?"
She smiled. "Charlie Bingley spilled two fraps on my sister's favorite blouse."
"So you got a hot sister?" Georgie asked straight faced.
"She's all right," Lizzie replied straight faced and shrugged for affect. "Her name is Jane. She doesn't hold grudges so she's not mad about the blouse."
Georgie swallowed, the hint of a smile on her lips. "Do you hold grudges?"
"Absolutely." Lizzie nodded. "I have three other sisters and we are not half as sweet as Jane. The rest of us are petty."
"Charlie's my favorite hopeless romantic, so I'm sure Jane's pretty lovely."
"She is," Lizzie said sincerely and Georgie looked at her quite softly for a moment.
"He's a first sight kind of guy," Georgie said. "What did you think about my brother at first sight?"
"...the first time I saw Darcy, I thought- holy shit he is tall and kinda rude." Lizzie grinned at Georgie.
Laughing Georgie said, "He's god awful at first impressions."
"I won't argue that."
Taking a final bite of her egg mcmuffin, Georgiana's face suddenly grew very serious and she leaned across the table and dropped her voice to just above a whisper. "Last question: can you keep a secret?"