Hello everyone! Have you all survived the great San Francisco tour day of 2013? That whole day was delightful, though it does render this fic completely canonballed. So let's just call it headcanon and move on, eh?


It took Lizzie about ten minutes to figure out the bus schedule, but once she worked out the cross streets she needed to be aware of, she headed out the door and walked briskly to her stop. Lizzie already thought of it as hers, even though she had only used it once since arriving in San Francisco earlier this month. But even so, there was a kind of familiarity to it that she didn't yet have with most of this large and crazy city.

The bus arrived right on schedule. After finding a spot to sit, Lizzie settled in, pulling out her phone to ensure she has the correct address. According to the bus schedule it takes about half an hour to get out to Golden Gate Park, and even then there was a walk from the last stop to the de Young. She has the address exactly right, of course, but it doesn't hurt to check. Her first day in the city alone, without Charlotte, had yielded not one but two trips where she got on the bus and then the BART headed in the wrong direction, which was monstrously embarrassing. Or it least, it would have been, if anyone had been there to see.

Lizzie had been both grateful and annoyed to be alone at that point; she was never the best with directions. But her proclamation in her last video about realizing that Charlotte wasn't there to watch her back was truer than maybe any of her viewers realized. It was slightly scary to be in such unfamiliar territory without anyone she knew. Not that she had dozens of friends in Fresno, as she had lately come to realize, but at least at home she had a network. Her people were there. Out here, she was all on her own, and that was both liberating and terrifying in a way that Lizzie couldn't quite explain. She didn't particularly feel like trying.

Not thinking about being alone and network-less had yielded a whole weekend of sitting on the couch of her guest home, watching the entire season of Firefly on Netflix. Being alone in her guest home was much, much easier than being alone outside, where there were thousands of people walking in pairs, dining with friends, grabbing drinks with dates, and generally having fun.

Well, Lizzie was 24, dammit, and just because she only knew a few people didn't mean that she couldn't very well have fun on her own. To hell with her own self-consciousness at being alone. San Francisco offered the height of culture and sophistication. Surely she could go lose herself in a bookstore for the afternoon, or see a (hopefully not too expensive) concert or play or musical, or go to a museum. She and Charlotte had hit some tourist attractions on Lizzie's move-in weekend, but today was time for Lizzie to step it up herself. Which is what led to her figuring out the bus schedule to get to the de Young, one of the finest art museums on the West Coast, if not the whole country.

Lizzie knew there was a reason for her to visit a museum that went beyond just having fun and avoiding the inevitable distraction of her laptop screen. It was time for her to think things over. And what better place for silent contemplation than an art museum, where loud conversation was considered the height of rudeness and patrons were supposed to move silently among the works? Lizzie thought privately that this was the best idea she's had in awhile. And yes, she should probably be working, should probably be writing up her notes from this past week and getting a head start on her report so there are no more epic weekends of paper-writing, but her concentration is shot and she wouldn't really be able to think about anything productive, so sitting in front of a computer — or a camera, come to think — would be useless.

Perhaps it was a little sad to be sightseeing alone, but Lizzie didn't mind. And besides, Charlotte was still at her internet-less retreat — Lizzie wondered briefly if Ricky had made everyone turn over their phones, shudder — Fitz was with his boyfriend, and Gigi's phone had gone to voicemail when Lizzie called to invite her. Lizzie tried not to dwell on the fact that there was literally no one else for her to call. There were several work acquaintances that she had debated contacting, but they were really more at the 'go out to lunch on a weekday' stage, not the 'let's hang out on the weekend outside of work' stage.

Of course, there was one other person Lizzie knew in San Francisco. But calling him was too embarrassingly impossible to contemplate.

A near aneurysm set in as Lizzie's phone jangled to life in her hand and the first name she saw flash across the screen read, "Darcy." But it was Gigi, thankfully. Lizzie took a breath before picking up.

"Hey Gigi, how's it going?"

Gigi's perky voice emanated through the phone. "Hi! It's going great! How are you? Sorry I missed your call earlier! Are you having a good Saturday?"

It was remarkable how chipper Gigi could sound, even across telephone lines. Sometimes Lizzie wondered if all the enthusiasm of the Darcy family somehow slipped past the eldest sibling and settled in the younger one.

"Yeah, actually, I am," Lizzie said. "I'm on the bus headed out toward the de Young. That's why I called earlier, to see if you wanted to go with me."

"The de Young! Did you say the de Young?"

"Yes, they have this exhibit on —"

"Rudolf Nureyev, oh my gosh, it is so great. Also there's an exhibit of photographs by Danny Lyon that's supposed to be really good. I haven't gotten to that one yet. Oh my gosh Lizzie you are going to love it! The de Young is my favorite."

It's impossible not to be reminded of Lydia's irrepressible enthusiasm, and Lizzie thought with a pang that the pair of them would get along famously.

"I'm excited to get out there."

"You shouldn't have to take the bus, though," Gigi said. "We could have sent you a car."

"Oh, no, really, it's fine, I'm ok with the bus." Lizzie said all this much too quickly. To her credit, Gigi seems to pick up on her tone.

"Ok. Well just know that you can always call one if you need it."

"Thank you," Lizzie said, with real warmth.

There was a muffled sound on the other end for just a moment, and Lizzie wondered briefly if they lost connection, but Gigi's voice returned soon enough. "Lizzie, are you going with anyone?"

"Uh, nope." Lizzie hoped her awkwardness wasn't too apparent. She had already had enough awkwardness in San Francisco to last a lifetime. "It's just me."

"You shouldn't be sightseeing by yourself!" Gigi's voice rang out, but then there was a muffled sound on the other end yet again. Of course, the bus had just started up a rather punishingly steep hill — perhaps that affected cell service? "I'm sorry I can't be there with you today, Lizzie, but I'm supposed to practice for a bit longer. Maybe we can get dinner later?"

A broad smile crossed Lizzie's face. "Sure, that would be great."

"Ok, great! Well I will let you go and we can figure out dinner details later today."

"Sounds good."

"Well have fun! And be sure to visit the Danny Lyon exhibit!"

"Ok, I will. Bye, Gigi."

Lizzie settled back in her seat again, watching the buildings as the bus rumbled along its path. It was kind of Gigi to not even mention her brother, considering the fact that the last time the three of them occupied the same building, Gigi had pushed him straight into Lizzie's office and closed the door.

The ensuing moments had been some of the most awkward and embarrassing in her life, but it hadn't escaped Lizzie just how nice Darcy had been. He had even smiled at her and offered her a ride to dinner, which he was under no obligation to do. Of course, that could have been just mere politeness — he was, after all, the kind of person to whom manners were of utmost importance — but somehow Lizzie didn't think that it was.

She couldn't pretend that he was in Los Angeles anymore. She couldn't delude herself into thinking that maybe she could get through this whole shadowing period without seeing him. That line of thinking had been entirely foolish.

Lizzie also couldn't pretend that she hadn't been delighted by Pemberley. There was such an understated elegance to the place that she loved, and it was inspiring to see such creatively fulfilled employees. Hour after hour of editing vlog entries and doing thesis research and writing page after page had somehow sucked the creativity and passion out of Lizzie's graduate school work. But being thrown into a place where people were not just discussing the theories she regularly researched, but putting them into practice, was uplifting in a way Lizzie hadn't expected.

Everyone Lizzie had worked with so far held Darcy in high esteem, and it was clear that much of the creative fulfillment she so regularly saw stemmed from the encouragement of upper management. But beyond that, Darcy seemed to care about his employees' welfare in a way that she had hardly seen from any corporate leadership in her independent study or her general, albeit limited, knowledge of the business world.

It had never exactly occurred to Lizzie that being loved by William Darcy might possibly be, well — something.

It was just that the Darcy she saw at Pemberley Digital was such a completely different person than the one with whom she had argued and sparred and disagreed and held in such contempt at home, and Lizzie couldn't reconcile the difference. Treadmill desks and napping pods and Japanese gardens aside, Darcy had still broken up Bing and Jane and acted like a total pompous prick toward their entire family all summer. Lizzie stood by what she had thought at the time, because it had been what she had felt, and an accurate reflection of how he had acted.

But Darcy didn't have dozens of videos where he slung insults at her left, right and center. Darcy didn't have whole vlog entries dedicated toward discussing their awkward interactions, in which he identified her by both her first and last name. Lizzie did. She had lots. Her embarrassment and shame about that mounted upon her every day, and the inappropriateness of her being at Pemberley Digital only made it heavier.

But perhaps the strangest thing was that no one seemed to care. Gigi found her videos funny. She and Darcy had managed to have an actual conversation. Sure, it had been the most awkward conversation of Lizzie's entire life, including The Talk with her hysterical mother discussing a married woman's duty while her father cringed in the background, but it had been an actual conversation. Normal human interaction.

And then she touched his arm.

Lizzie still wasn't quite sure what made her do that.

Oh come on. You know. You're just not willing to admit it.

Lizzie shut her eyes, trying to silence that particular thought. Perhaps if she considered it from an outsider's point of view. A researcher's point of view. Yes, she could do that. She was, after all, mere weeks away from being named a master of mass communications. Research was in her blood.

And, from an objective, researcher's point of view, she could admit freely that William Darcy was attractive.

Mercifully, before this line of thought could continue too much further, the bus pulled up to her cross street. Lizzie yanked the yellow cord above her head and dismounted, again checking her phone to make sure she was headed in the right direction before setting off for the museum. She had always enjoyed walking, and this city provided her ample opportunity. Many of the homes along her walk were painted different pastel colors, like Easter eggs, except to the hundredth power, and Lizzie was forcefully reminded just how different a world it was up here.

The entrance to the sprawling park appeared soon enough, and Lizzie made her way to the front door of the de Young. She spotted a poster for the Rudolf Nureyev exhibit Gigi raved about, and the Danny Lyon exhibit as well.

"This World Is Not My Home: Photographs by Danny Lyon," the placard read. Lizzie contemplated it for a moment before purchasing her ticket. Her world, which she had always felt so comfortable in, was feeling less and less like her home every single day. Perhaps this Danny Lyon character could shed some light on the matter.

Lizzie consulted her museum map, then set off to the entrance to the exhibit. She smiled at the first photo — one of a man in a leather jacket riding a motorcycle yet still looking back over his shoulder — before looking over her own shoulder and stifling a gasp. Her breath caught in her chest. Because not ten feet away from her stood William freaking Darcy.

What the f—


Don't worry; there will definitely be a chapter 2. I just have to finish writing it. Many thanks for reading!