A/N: Wew this is my first fanfic. Ever. Really had the feels for this show though...for some reason. I do wonder if I should continue from here...perhaps leave a review to let me know? ;D Ratings might kick up to M if my writing muse doesn't desert me. The story is based on my limited knowledge of having watched the movie and read the comic book of PPZ only...wouldn't expect much Jane-Austen writing here FYI.

Since all fanfics I've read always have this...

Dsiclaimer: I'm only borrowing characters and scenes from PPZ to give life to my fanfic. Don't own anything but this story. (It's what fanfics technically represent...duh.)

Darcy rode with haste across the vast plains of Derbyshire, across roaring fields of his homeland, not from hordes of zombies this time, but simply from a war council meeting with army majors and his dear friend, Mr Bingley, at his Netherfield Residence. The vast distance of Netherfield Residence and lengthy discussions have kept him away from home for nearly a week and he realised with much heartache and longing for the time lost with his dear wife, his dear Elizabeth.

It has been 6 months since they've wed but not a moment of ennui has passed between either party as they discover more of each other by the day, from Lizzy's surprising talent in knitting embroidery (whose needles make excellent use for stabbing & slowing the undead) to Darcy's favourite pass time of tending to his garden, pruning where need be (a practice of patience and katana precision skills, he blushes and remarks in defence). A small, gentle smile tugged upon the corners of Darcy's mouth as he fondly recalls all his time with Lizzie, even, (& especially) the contented and peaceful moments experienced in bed after sating some hard-pressed desires. A small amount of awe still trickles through him as he ponders over how a prideful and cold man who scoffed at succumbing to such basal urges, was now revelling in the warmth of love and strength his dear Elizabeth has sparked in his soul.

Darcy got off his horse upon reaching the doors of his grand estate and strode swiftly to the living room, hoping to catch Lizzie reading or knitting by the fireplace, her choice of activity in the late afternoon. It did not strike Darcy as odd, till he was halfway to the living room, that not a single house staff was in sight and it escalated quickly to suspicion and apprehension when neither his wife nor sister were in the living room, nor did they respond when he called out.

Darcy proceeded to check the drawing room, card room, master and sister's bedroom as well as the kitchen, meeting not a single soul, albeit encountering the opened letter that he personally penned to Elizabeth informing her of his arrival at this hour.

"Liz would usually be pacing impatiently in the living room and my sister would typically be hustling the kitchens to prepare a meal prior to my arrival….where could everyone be?" Mr Darcy, questioned, unsettled, calling out to them once again.

The sound of clashing knives sounded through his reverie and Mr Darcy darted immediately to the dojo in the basement, unease slowly being replaced with excited mischief at the prospect of catching Liz and Georgina sparring.

Dread, anger and bewilderment suddenly plunged into him however, upon seeing his dear Elizabeth on the ground with her leather clad legs pinned upon another man's head, whose arms were trapped also by his beloved's death grip and a move he recalls regretfully from his first rejected and disrespectful proposal to Elizabeth. As the man tried to loosen Elizabeth's grip on him while trying to edge the menacing dagger in his hands towards her, Darcy steadily drew his Katana and had it clipped upon the man's neck with lightning speed, no thanks to his Kyoto-style deadly arts.

"I must warn you now to drop your weapon with immediate haste lest I slice your head cleanly off your shoulders for threatening my wife in our household." Darcy, cast a menacing gleam on the offensive intruder.

"OH! Will! Put your sword down, love, he's no enemy but a dear friend!" Elizabeth shouted with alarm as Darcy just finished directing his threat, quickly untangling her limbs from said friend and rising immediately to push the sword away from the man.

"Will, meet Mr Jefferson Chatsworth, my dear friend who trained under the same Shaolin master as I. The best rival then and a brother I could proudly call upon. Jeff, meet my beloved husband, Fitzwilliam Darcy" Elizabeth introduced, delightfully, while trying to ease the tension from her husband by patting and stroking Will's arm.

"Dozo yoroshiku, Mr Darcy, I've heard much about you from Liz here amidst your absence. Please, call me Jefferson or Jeff." Jefferson bowed, trusting Darcy to recognise the Japanese form of greeting and respect.

"Dozo." Darcy bowed stiffly and answered in clipped tones. Upon straightening, Darcy was surprised to see his presumably missing house staff and sister standing by the side of the room, with beams on their faces, probably glad to have their Master and brother back safely from his journey.

"Good to have you back brother!" Georgina strode across the room towards him, "Were you practising tirelessly with the majors at the war meeting? I don't think I've ever seen you move so blindingly fast with your katana before!" Georgina exclaimed.

"No doubt, le prince here felt the roaring need to save the damsel in distress, his love, who was lying flat upon the ground with an assassin hovering over her!" Jefferson interjected with a laugh and a dramatic flourish of the hand.

"Ha! Damsel in distress? I dare you to say it again Jeff." Elizabeth made a painful jab on a vulnerable acupoint on Jefferson's chest, a smirk and threatening gleam in the eye. "Well…how about a re-duel then?" Jefferson edged closer towards Elizabeth while rubbing his chest, the tension between them as sharp as a knife but playful as well like how siblings would be.

"Guest you might be to my lovely Elizabeth but if I see a single bruise, cut or simply her on the ground again with you powering over her, I'm afraid nothing would bar me from keeping to my earlier promise of what I'll do to you dear Mr Chatsworth. Your family might own the entire land, second to mine in Derbyshire, but no money or power can bring you back from the dead." Darcy warned with unnatural coldness, a simmering bitter feeling in his gut upon seeing the camaraderie between his wife and this man who seem to hold much respect and affection for his beloved.

Elizabeth turned towards her husband with a frown of disapproval,

"Do you doubt my abilities dear husband? I would not allow you to speak to my friend in such atrocious and haughty manner. Think I've become weak in my 6 months of marriage? Need I prove you wrong?" Elizabeth challenged.

"Yes, perhaps we could all see what you've become in my grand household after 6 months." Darcy angled his gaze on Elizabeth, the bitter green feeling rising within him from Elizabeth's defence of her friend.

A collective gasp sounded throughout the room, from shock and disbelief from those who've heard Darcy's seemingly insulting reply. All, except perhaps Jefferson, knew how much a sacrifice it was for Elizabeth to reduce her warrior training, to act slightly more femininely, for the benefit of Darcy's high society reputation and decorum, although Darcy never insisted it upon his wife. All also knew Darcy's high regard, respect and love for his wife, through his warm and thoughtful actions typically, when interacting with her. Such manner of speaking was thus highly unheard of.

As Darcy eventually realised the wrong of his ways, a gleam of panic and guilt showing through his eye, and while Elizabeth's face darkened with fury and hurt, body in the stance to lash out on her husband, Georgina suddenly chimed in, clasping both hands together,

"Well! It's time for tea I believe! Renine?" she called upon the house staff," Are the tea things ready to be served in the living room? I dare say I'm famished after the excellent display of sparring skills that left me on the edge of my seat….or at the edge of the room, quite literally I must add!" Georgina gave an awkward laugh, linking her arms through her brother and Elizabeth, steering them towards the living room.

Just right behind Georgina, Jefferson's cheerful and mischievous demeanour have also long evaporated after hearing what Darcy had to say. Did he not respect Elizabeth's pride and skill as a warrior? How in all hells did she come to wed him and speak about him with such love in her eyes amidst Darcy's absence? Was it all a ruse? Perhaps, Jefferson thought, he had to come and accomplish what he set out to do after all…

…steal Elizabeth away from this unhappy, false union and wed her instead. With that made up, Jefferson strode purposefully to the living room for tea with the devil.