So this is the first time I'm ever putting something out there for people to read. And of course I can't do something normal. This is actually the ending (or just about) to a story I have in my head. It's supposed to be a modern take on Pride and Prejudice. Thing is with school and finals and the sea of papers that is slowly closing in, I am way too burnt out and busy to work on getting the story from my head and onto paper. Yet, this one scene has been so fully fleshed out in my head I do not want to loose it and since its all typed up, why not see what people think of it before going back and writing everything that happens before this. I hope you enjoy reading it and anything constructive or supporting you feel like leaving me in a review would be greatly appreciated!

Here is the basic plot of the story that I have so far- really it's just who the characters are in our modern world:

Lizzy Bennett and William Darcy meet by chance on the subway (I'm from NYC, so that's where the story is set). The meet through mutual friend, the affable Charles Bingley- Darcy's good friend and Lizzy's sister Jane's fiancée.

Will is the head of his family's publishing company, since both his parents have passed away. He splits time between the States and England (where his sister lives). Charles works as a high level editor/publisher in the NYC office of the company. A year or so ago he stumbled upon something William had written and convinced him to turn it into a full fledged novel. Will publishes a novel (title to be determined) with Charles' help based off his life--loosing his parents, raising his sister, adrift, lost in the big bad world, etc. but under the pen name F. Williams. F. Williams, as his "agent" Charles lets the press know, does not do press stuff and thus when the book becomes a best seller and all that shortly before he and Lizzy meet, the buzz is abounding about who this F. Williams really is. When Lizzy and Will meet on the train, she is actually reading the book, raving to Charles about how much she loves it.

Lizzy's character is still up in the air. I can't decide if I'm going to make her a grad student, or some type of bohemian artist type who works her nights away as a bartender and her days auditioning for theaters or something.

The usual occurs- Will sticks his foot in his mouth, Lizzy hates him, Will falls in love with her. They fight and Will returns to England, but not before explaining himself with a letter. Lizzy somehow ends up in England, meets Will again, notices the change, and has a brief amount of time with him before being called away by family emergency. Months pass and she is too scared to reach out to Will and he hasn't (because he has thrown himself into writing a new novel).

That's basically all you need to know to put the story in context. On to the ending:

**Author's Note: Anything written in italics is the character's thoughts. It's meant to flow from narrative right into their thoughts and then back again. These characters come from Jane Austen. I'm just playing with them**

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It had been a miserable day. But then what else was new as of late for Lizzy. She couldn't get over it. She'd had her chance to apologize, to actually get along with him. And that had been what was happening wasn't it? He'd seemed so different. Still William, but happy, eager, flirtatious even. Okay so maybe the last one (at least only to Lizzy) was wishful thinking. But now the chance was gone. It had been a few months and she couldn't stop imagining what the past months would have been like with him instead of without him.

It was a persistent knocking on the door that drove her from her musings. Part of her imagined it was him: knocking down her door, sweeping her off her feet, taking her to the bedroom…Stop it Lizzy! She shook her head to clear that train of thought as she ran to answer the now annoyingly persistent knocking.

It wasn't him. Not even close. A bike messenger. With a large think manila envelope in his hands. "Elizabeth Bennett?" "Yes?" "Good. I was specifically instructed to place this package in your hands alone." She held out her hand to reach his outstretched one and took the package. "Thank you," she mumbled, all her attention now on the mystery behind the manila. "Have a nice..." was all she heard as she turned and shut the door behind her.

Sitting on her worn couch, Lizzy continued to stare at her name and address on the envelope. It was definitely wasn't a script she recognized so her eyes wandered to the return address. After a few minutes of profound contemplation, she realized this one she knew. Charles' office. Nope. Doesn't help. Have to actually open this Lizzy.

Taking a deep breath, she ripped apart the top of the envelope, closed her eyes, and reached inside. Her hands pulled out a simply bound manuscript. A thick one at that. Peeking through half opened eyelids, she saw that the green cover was just that. A cover. No title. Nothing. What the hell could Charles have meant in sending me this thing? Wanting to thumb through the first few pages to see more of this mystery, she hesitated. What if it wasn't meant for me? Laying the manuscript on the cushion next to her, Lizzy reached over to grab her cell on the coffee table. Better to check with Charles first. Packages could have been mixed up and this could be some secret classified government mumbo jumbo in my hands. Come on Lizzy, so unlikely. Still you've seen enough movies...

She leaned to far though and the manuscript slid off its cushion and fell open onto the floor with a loud and significant "thud." Reaching down to grab it, Lizzy couldn't help but be stunned immobile as she read the now revealed title page

First Impressions

F. Williams

Then as the silent face off between Lizzy's flabbergastedness and the completely unexpected page grew longer, Lizzy did the only natural thing. She fell off the couch too.

William Darcy lay on his hotel room couch into the late hours of the night. It was done. The last revised manuscript had been handed in. It was his heart, his soul. It was him. Charles had been surprised. He'd known Darcy was working on something. Darcy always seemed to be writing these days. Though, to have an entire novel, a rather lengthy one, done so soon and with out any warning. Even the editing process had gone quickly, or as quick as it could. Charles was kind in that way.

Buzz would no doubt soon be abounding about the new F. Williams book. William didn't care. It wasn't something he'd meant to do. Another book yes, but not about her…about him…about them. Whatever they had been. He hadn't meant to do it but he'd had no control. The words just flowed. He'd had to do it. There was no such thing as choice involved.

So, it would be another night alone on the couch. Another night alone. Well not completely alone. There were those thoughts. Those annoyingly persistent thoughts. What happens when she hears about the book? Will she read it? Does she still hate me enough to ignore the whole thing completely? Things had been going so well. Even if she does read it, what makes you think she'll come running? Keep dreaming Darcy. It was with a frustrated grunt and shake of his head that William changed positions on the couch and channels on the television. Then the knocking started.

He'd thought at first it was on the television, but when he clicked it off to check, the knocking continued. It was as if he'd never heard knocking before. What do I do? Only a select few know I'm here at the hotel. None of them would be knocking this late. It's almost 2am. The knocking paused for a second and then started again. Heaving himself off the couch, William pulled on the rumpled t-shirt he'd discarded earlier to the back of a chair. Reaching the door, he winced as the cold marble tiles chilled his once toasty feet. Pulling the door open, William believed he'd lost it.

All those sleepless nights, writing for hours straight, pacing tracks into the carpet as he searched for just the right way to put things-he'd pass out from exhaustion eventually and dream. Of her naturally. Though now as he continued to stare at Lizzy in the door way, he realized none of the dreams took place there before. The bedroom was far more comfortable. And my Lizzy never looked as if she'd been crying. Crying out, yes. Moaning in pleasure, check. But tears of sadness. Never.

It was when she finally raised her head high enough to look him in the eyes that he realized this could not be a dream. Those fine eyes, even stained with tears, were something his imagination could never do justice, even with all the starring he'd done at them. He couldn't breathe for a moment. When he did, his mind began to whirl. What is she doing her? Speak idiot! How many seconds have passed? Minutes? Hours? Millennia? Stop starring like an idiot! God she's gorgeous. Grab her, kiss her. No STOP. Close your most likely gapping mouth. Move! But to no avail. One last thought crossed his mind. This is what a stroke feels like. At least I'm dying happy. No better last image really. And then she was speaking.

"Why don't they end up together?" "Um…" Real smart Will. What language is she speaking anyway because my brain sure as hell isn't processing it? "Why don't they end up together?" she repeated. "I don't…what?" was all Will could sputter out. Then she raised it from her side: his manuscript. "In your book. Liam and Beth." He raised one hand to his hair, running through it nervously. His face scrunched up in confusion. She was look at him in such earnest. Like she was hanging on the edge and this answer was all that mattered. Well good luck there love, because I can't seem to form complete sentences anymore.

He moved aside, motioning her in and shut the door behind him. They moved to the living room though neither sat down on any of the suitable surfaces. "Why aren't they together in the end Will? I thought. I guessed they would but…" She left the sentence hanging. Taking a deep breath, Will said a silent prayer that he could get this out clearly. She'd read the entire thing, but had she really read every word on every page? He couldn't help that stray thought.

"It's a book Lizzy." "I know that Will" Great insult her. Nice "Yes. I mean, I wrote the book like my first one. It's based off truth. I can't let what I'd like to happen…I mean there's no room for fantasies, wishful thinking. It wouldn't have been right." That last part he mumbled, possibly to the point of incoherency. She looked slightly confused, like she was trying to figure out what he'd just said. Will looked down, unable to stare at her now. Great. That made no sense. Really couldn't you have just said 'I don't know' and kissed away any rebuttal?

"Did you mean it?" His head shot up. Her eyes looked shining again. It had been almost a whisper. Unshed tears were ready to spring if he got the question wrong. Yet, he still had no idea what it she was talking about. "The ending?" he questioned lightly, praying that wasn't what she'd meant. "No" she let out softly, looking dejected. The manuscript and her arm feel down to her side from the place on her chest where they had been cradled. Gathering whatever courage he had, William walked towards her, stopping two feet away. Close enough to grab the manuscript from her but far enough away to stop him from grabbing anything else.

Flipping to the page directly after the title page, he turned the book so she could read it and held it out between them. "This?" She looked up. The tears were literally on the verge to fall and she could only shake her head yes as she stared at the words that had kept her off her couch.

For Lizzy-

the inspiration, the motivation,

the love

behind all of this

"Yes". Will seemed to only be able to whisper now. Her tears fell, though he detected a sort of happy upturn to her lips for just the briefest of seconds and a gasp from her mouth before her hand covered it. He couldn't check though, for his hand found better occupation than holding his manuscript. Dropping the manuscript besides him, Will reached for her, drawing her flush against him and her hand from her mouth. His lips replaced the hand, covering her own with a kiss he hoped expressed all his words couldn't. Love. Devotion. Passion. Desire. Longing. All there. And once she recovered from the shock, the same were felt from her lips as they answered back.

It would be hours before Will could check to see if it had been a fleeting smile, but in the moment her lips answered his, he knew that for the first time in his life, real life was much better than fiction, even fiction based in truth. (Though, it would also be hours before he was able to make that thought into coherent words)