A/N: I do not own The Last 5 Years or any of the characters - that credit goes to Mr. Jason Robert Brown. I know plenty of TL5Y fans are Elise haters. And I can't blame them. But I had a thought one day - what if Elise wasn't "evil" and actually had feelings (I know, "gasp!", right?). Ergo, this fic was born!

(And yes, each of the chapters have something to do with writing or office supplies. *cough* symbolism, eh? *uncough* Keep a close eye on that. ;) ).

"Well, you can tell Mr. Ross that what I do is strictly business. When he has a better deal to offer me, then we'll talk."

"Ms. Mcfield?"

Elise swerved her head around to see Jen, the intern, at her doorway with a manila envelope. Elise, occupied at the moment, held up a finger before the intern could utter another word.

"No, I can't do Friday, I have a conference to attend to," Elise continued on the phone. "How about Wednesday? ...What do you mean he can't make it? ...Well, if you have strap Mr. Ross on the next plane to New York, then do it - I could care less. I'll only be available on Wednesday. Make it work." Elise abruptly hung up. She looked up at Jen. "Yes?"

"New manuscript came in for you, Ms. Mcfield."

Elise sighed deeply. Probably more crap, she thought. "Alright, set it down."

Jen promptly placed the envelope on Elise's already cluttered desk. She then handed Elise a coffee cup.

"Your coffee, Ms. Mcfield."

Elise nodded, taking the Styrofoam cup in her hand and sipped. "That will be all, Jen." The intern left almost as quickly as she came.

Elise opted not to open the envelope and instead stood up from her desk, taking a well-deserved stretch. Coffee in hand, she went over to the window and looked out at the skyline. The sun was shyly peaking out from behind the sleek buildings and skyscrapers. Its face was smothered with the gray and gloomy clouds that hung in the sky. New York was just waking up, but of course Elise found herself already flooded with work. From the office, she could just make out the green of Central Park, hidden behind trees whose emerald leaves were starting to become tinged with auburn. So summer was ending. Elise sighed inwardly. Even so, there would still be work. Some things would never change.

Day in and day out, the office was Elise's second home. She considered her work her life. Who needed food when you could have crisp paper and words crackling with energy? What use was there for air when you could wallow in the smell of fresh ink and the mirage of sultry imagery?

In truth, however, it was a strange living that Elise made, criticizing other writers' work for their use of grammar or their characterization abilities. It could be an annoying occupation, she had to admit - having to put up spineless characters, shitty descriptions, and pitiful vocabulary. Thank God that at least the pay was good. Rare were the times that Elise would find an actual literary jewel. But when those moments of discovery did happen, it was like a triumph for Elise, as if she were a Christopher Columbus searching for the next, most remarkable, new domain of literature...

"Ms. Mcfield?"

Elise rolled her eyes, thankful that at least the intern could not see her do so.

"What is it, Jen?"

"Er- more paperwork for you to sign."

Elise let out another sigh, one of the countless many that escaped her lungs every day.

It was going to be a long day.

Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.

Elise watched the rain paint watery patterns on the glass windows. She sat alone in the bar, her glass already half-empty. From inside, she watched people under umbrellas hurriedly make their way along the streets. The sidewalks were coated with rain, and gleamed silver under the bright lights of the city, with murky puddles forming here and there. It was a cold, wet night.

The bartender saw Elise's glass and refilled it. He was on good terms with her, and knew she would come in most nights to escape the load she had endured for the day. Elise nodded her thanks, and lifted the glass to her lips. The door to the bar opened, and a rush of cold blew in. Elise shivered, and glanced behind her to see a couple taking a seat at the booth opposite hers. They were young, probably in their early twenties. They were laughing and seemed very content with one another's company. Elise observed them out of the corners of her eyes. The girl's eyes were earnest and longing. She probably thought herself to be in love with the man she was with. She laughed too much and it irritated Elise's ears. The young man's face was just as open, wide eyes giving away his obvious infatuation with the lady. Elise noticed that his eyes kept flicking back and forth, from the girl's face... to her chest. Elise suppressed the urge to snort. Girl wants love, guy wants sex. Typical. This was exactly the reason why she did not date. Most men were like the ones who just happened to be sitting next to Elise right now. Why did everyone with a Y chromosome have to be a pig?

Elise stared into her glass, empty again. Her own reflection stared back at her. When was the last time she had had a relationship? She could not recall. It must have been in high school, before college, before her career. Before she had found her passion in books. Elise was not one of those hopeless romantics. Not the damsel in distress type. Even so, she would divulge in a love story once in a while. Elise was perturbed with the idea that romance could be perfectly portrayed in novels, but that it was so lacking and complicated in real life. In her life...

I am not lonely, Elise tried to firmly tell herself. Well, that was a load of crap. Literary colleagues were her family, books were her best friends, and the office was her home. She had become the sore, bitchy workaholic, the sorry ass at the bar that everyone pitied. Just watch, Elise thought, You'll end up as a cat lady one day. She thumbed the base of the glass. She blamed the alcohol for her depressed mood.

Elise soon grew nauseated from the sight of the lovesick couple at the adjacent table. She paid for her drinks and left the bar. The air was awfully chilly and humid. She hugged her arms in her chest in an attempt to keep herself warm. Her heels clicked along the wet asphalt with an urgent rhythm as she hurried down the avenue in lone strides. Further down the dark street, a homeless man in rags was sitting by a dumpster.

"Hallo tharr, Miss." The man smiled with toothless gums. "Can you spare a penny?" He held out a grimy, withered hand expectantly. Elise tried to ignore him and quickened her pace.

She hailed a taxi, and told the driver the address to her apartment. She rode the elevator up, all twenty-nine floors, alone. She got to her door and unlocked it, and strolled inside. The lights were off, and the darkness only seemed to make the vast, empty room all the more hollow. Elise flipped a switch, and stepped into a luxurious living room that was all too large for one person.

By time Elise crawled into her queen-sized bed, it was close to midnight. She stared up, and watched the lights from passing cars that played on the highly elevated ceiling. Their hypnotizing dance soon lulled Elise to sleep.

She dreamt that night.

Gruff hands thrust her into an empty room in the tallest tower. She begged her jailors not to lock her away forever, but their ghoulish faces only sneered and cackled at her. They swung the heavy iron door closed, and she heard the sharp click of the key and lock. In rags, she feel to the floor sobbing. The stone was cold and seemed to suck the warmth and life out of her, and the high, looming gravestone walls crowded her. She cried out and screamed, the claustrophobia eating at her like a demon, stealing the air out of her lungs. She managed to lift herself up onto her knees, but only just. There was only one window in the tower. It was tiny, a pathetic excuse for a window, built too high for her reach. Thorns and storm clouds obscured the the sky from being seen from the window. So this was what prison felt like.