Hello you lovely LBD-ers. I wrote the bulk of this prior to episode 76, but I altered things a bit to prevent it from being completely and resoundingly canon-balled. For the sake of consistency, let's just say that Fitz arranges everything with Dr. Gardiner, who then gets in touch with Dr. Stone.

This fic also takes some liberties by giving a name and a place to Lizzie's hometown and grad school. Both were selected only after research into California mass communications master's programs.

Dr. Abigail Gardiner sat with her feet propped up on her desk. Her shoes were off and tiny snowmen dotted her blue socks. Dr. Gardiner liked these socks; they were the closest she would ever get to snow out here. Fresno's average temperature hovered around 55 degrees even in the dead of winter, far too warm for the snow she had grown used to while slaving away for her own Ph.D. in Boston.

She had been attempting to prepare a syllabus for her undergraduate communication theory class, but a "ding!" from her computer drew her attention away from the open textbook on her lap. With classes out for the next three weeks, emails from students were few and far between. What she read, however, was not from a student. The message was unusual enough to make Dr. Gardiner pause.

Dear Dr. Gardiner, it read. My name is Fitz Williams, and I work as an account executive at Pemberley Digital in San Francisco. I have a bit of a strange request. I met one of your graduate students, Lizzie Bennet, a few months ago…

A few hours later, and about two hundred miles to the north of Abigail Gardiner, William Darcy sat alone at his desk, poring over the end of year report and first quarter projections from his CFO. A light rain fell outside, and he was just thinking of calling Gigi to see if she wanted to pop over for some afternoon coffee, when the intercom on his desk buzzed.

"Yes?" Darcy was only half paying attention, his mind still on coffee with his sister.

"Will, there's a Dr. Stone on the phone for you?"

Puzzled, Darcy pressed the button to reply. "Who?"

"He says he's an old professor of yours."

"Oh, yes, of course!" Darcy said, sitting back a bit in surprise. "Put him through, please, Mrs. Jenkinson."

Of all the phone calls on today's calendar, one from his old communications law professor was not one Darcy expected. It had been several months since he had last seen his favorite Harvard professor; they had dined together when Darcy last flew out to Pemberley's New York office in the spring. Not even a year had passed, and yet how very much had changed, he thought ruefully as he pressed the button for line one.

"William Darcy."

"William, it's Kurt Stone. How are you?"

"Just fine, and yourself?"

"Doing well, doing well. I'm out here a bit early preparing my syllabus for the winter semester."

"Planning on hitting them with New York Times v. Sullivan early on?"

"Of course. Though if they don't already know it by now … "

"Then they should 'seriously reconsider whether you'll want to enroll in this class, which will contain some of the highest levels of discourse you'll encounter in all your time at this estimable institution,'" Darcy recited from memory. The words had been branded into his mind ever since Dr. Stone spoke them to his class of terrified undergraduates all those years ago.

"Well at least now I know someone listens to me," Dr. Stone said, chuckling. "I mean it, though, how's it going out there? I know it's always a bit hectic in the end-of-year push."

"I was just going over all that, actually," Darcy said, picking up the reports in front of him. "After some rough patches in the spring with some bugs in our app programming, we picked up steam and ended the year very successfully. We're up 12 percent from a year ago."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. That's solid growth," Stone said. He cleared his throat. "Listen, Will, I've got a bit of a favor to ask. I seem to remember you mentioning that you bring in a crop of interns with the start of each winter semester?"

Darcy paused, wondering where Dr. Stone was going with this. "Yes, in the winter as well as the summer and fall. We're due to start with a new group in mid-January."

One of the things Darcy's father had prided himself on — and something he himself took pride in even today — was Pemberley Digital's sterling internship program. Internships had been invaluable to Darcy both at college and in years prior, and he was positive his office experience through those internships had been the central reason he hadn't completely floundered upon receiving the company reins when his parents died. He had managed to maintain and grow Pemberley into something notable, something his parents would be proud of, and he was he was determined to give similar opportunities to others. It was only fair, after all, despite his not being that much older than some of the interns. Well, many of them.

Most of them.

One intern had even been older than he was. Darcy hadn't spent too much time at brownbag lunch seminars with that particular intern class.

"So, Will, that favor. An old pal of mine over in the journalism school at Fresno State has a graduate student in a bit of a bind and called in a favor to me."

Darcy, who had been leaning back a bit in his chair, froze. His stomach lurched and his heart skipped a beat simultaneously, an interesting sensation he hadn't previously thought anatomically possible. Because he knew a journalism graduate student at Fresno State. He knew one very well.

"She's going for her master's in mass communication, and she's put together an interesting independent study for her last semester where she's shadowing companies making strides with social and new media. Only the funding was pulled for one of the companies she was due to start observing, and now she's kind of desperate."

Darcy's heart slowed to near stopping. His muddled thoughts moved around as slow as mixed concrete as he tried to process what Dr. Stone was saying. The conventions of conversation dictated that he make some kind of response, but Darcy couldn't quite force his throat to make the appropriate movement. He managed an "Hmm," and congratulated himself for the effort.

"You know, I hate to do this, and I know you have a process for intern applications and everything, but I also know how highly you value fresh ideas, especially about new media, and since this is her particular line of study it just seemed like a good fit. So I thought I'd put in a call to ask to see if you minded her coming out with your new group of January interns."

Darcy concentrated on breathing in and out.

You don't know it's her.

"What's the uh, em, ah—" Darcy cleared his throat and tried again. "What's the student's name?"

"Bennet, Dr. Gardiner said. Liz Bennet."

"Lizzie," Darcy corrected reflexively, before he could stop himself. His heart, which had come so close to stopping just a moment ago, began pounding. It thumped so hard it felt like the entire muscle would jump out of his chest if his ribcage weren't there to hold it in. His skin was the only thing keeping his entire self from flying apart, and even that was buzzing.

It's her.

"Yes, that's right, Lizzie. How did you know? Do you know her?"

Darcy, knowing a response was required to this direct question, tried to think of the most delicate way to phrase just how he knew Lizzie Bennet. He decided on the bare bones facts. It wasn't a lie, per say, just not the full truth.

"I spent some time out near Fresno over the summer. We, ah, met at a wedding," Darcy said, attempting to sound casual but failing miserably. The cold dread in his stomach clashed with his hammering heart.

If Dr. Stone heard Darcy's hesitation, he didn't let on. "Oh how delightful! Dr. Gardiner just raved about her, said she's doing some truly interesting things with her graduate thesis. I thought Pemberley would be the perfect fit."

Darcy's mind was racing. Did Lizzie know that Dr. Gardiner was calling in this favor? Did she even know Pemberley Digital was his company? If she didn't know, would she even want to come out here once she realized the truth? Surely she wouldn't want to come if she knew she would inevitably see him again. But he didn't want to provide yet another stumbling block in her life. If she was in a bind and needed a company to shadow, well. He had a company. She could shadow at Pemberley. They didn't have to see each other. He could spend two months in the New York or London offices, perhaps.

Don't be ridiculous.

Of course he wasn't going to New York or London, particularly not for the dreadfully dreary winter months. He would stay here. He wanted to see her.

Needed to see her.

Darcy shook himself. His mind attempted to banish the thought, but his traitor heart put up a terrific fight. He was pathetic. So pathetic. So in love, even now, even after everything, even after watching the videos and writing the letter, he was still so in love with her it was sometimes hard to think straight.

Dr. Stone spoke again, jolting Darcy out of his reverie. "So, Will, what do you say? Will it be two old friends together again?"

"I'm not sure about old friends," Darcy said honestly, and Dr. Stone laughed.

"I'm sure you don't give yourself enough credit."

Lizzie, of course, would say that he took too much credit. Pride, arrogance and selfishness, she had said. But that had been before she'd seen any of his work at Pemberley, before she had seen what he had endeavored so faithfully to build and what he was and always had been so very proud of. Had she seen any of their products? What would she think about the empire his father and mother had established together, and the one he had been handed at a yet-too-tender age? There was a reason he was so open to ideas from young people. His own ideas had been almost the sole means of keeping the company — the only income for both himself and his sister, not to mention Pemberley's hundreds of employees — afloat after his parents' death. He did value fresh ideas, because that was the only method of survival. Change, or be done for.

He had just recently begun realizing how that business missive was all too relevant to his personal life. Lizzie, in fact, had been the first to make him aware of it.

She was so frank and open in every aspect of her life. He knew she would give her opinion candidly and bluntly. He wanted to know what she thought of Pemberley. But would she want to be here?

Darcy stalled. "I'm not sure if we have enough room, to be honest," he sputtered, not honestly at all. There was more than enough room. All he would have to do would be to arrange to have Lizzie in one of the floating offices kept open for use by consultants or employees from Pemberley's New York and London offices whenever they were in San Francisco. It wouldn't be any trouble. He could even wangle her a treadmill desk. "Let me just check with Mrs. Jenkinson to see if we have the space. Won't be but a minute."

"All right then, I understand. Though I'd been hoping you'd say yes!" Dr. Stone's disappointment rang in Darcy's ears.

"Yes, well. I'll be back with you in a minute."

"Cheers, Will."

"Bye."

Hope. Dr. Stone had been hoping.

Don't you start.

Darcy stood and began pacing around his office, unable to slow down his racing thoughts. He should say no. Lizzie wouldn't want to come if she knew it was his company, she had made that perfectly clear in her rejection and nearly three hours of videos he had watched afterward. Being here would only make her uncomfortable, no matter how much he wanted to see her.

He started, then turned on his heel and began pacing in the opposite direction. He had grown used to quashing thoughts like that — thoughts like what if I could just see her again — in the months since he had left the office at Collins and Collins. But now there was an opportunity to see her again, really see her again, not just in his mind or by noticing a video pop up online. What if she could be here? What if the letter had altered how she thought of him? What if she believed him? Could he really refuse her entrance and miss the chance to determine if she had changed her mind? Could he really prevent even the possibility that she could be here, that she could be here, with him at his company. What if this was — Darcy nearly gagged at the thought — fate?

Gigi was fond of talking about fate, as though it was the one determining factor of the course of their lives. Darcy, meanwhile, had always thought of fate as merely a trope used in bad literature and even worse movies. But even he had to admit his thoughts on the subject were reshaping. Could fate really have determined his parents' death? Could fate have induced him to accept Bing's offer to travel south for the summer, even though it had been against Darcy's better judgment? Could fate have arranged his catching that stupid garter? Could fate have opened the door to his meeting the first — and, he suspected, the only — woman he had ever truly loved? Darcy scowled. If fate was so powerful, then how come it hadn't allowed Lizzie to overlook his awkwardness and social ineptitude and see how he really felt?

He turned on his heel again. Perhaps his inelegance in social situations wasn't fate's fault. Perhaps fate had enough to do. Like leading Dr. Gardiner to contact his old communications law professor.

Could fate lead to Lizzie Bennet walking the halls of Pemberley? Could fate really lead to her being here, with him?

Well, who was he to say no to fate? And much as he hated to admit it, Darcy had more care to see Lizzie at Pemberley than will to keep her away.

I have more care to stay than will to go: come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.

Ugh, shut up, Romeo.

Darcy pushed that thought aside and walked to the window. This wasn't Romeo and Juliet and this certainly wasn't death — though sometimes he did feel he would die of shame and embarrassment and every other horrible feeling whenever he thought back on his behavior toward Lizzie in the spring and fall. But this was real life. And he had a real-life chance to see the real Lizzie Bennet, to have her observing Pemberley for a period of several weeks. He would be crazy to say yes, but even crazier to say no. And much as he disliked thinking of himself as mentally incapacitated, he had to recognize that Lizzie Bennet had long since driven any semblance of sanity from him. He had grown rather used to allowing for a certain dizziness whenever Lizzie was around.

What if — what if — this was the second chance he had so hoped for? Another chance to show him who he really was — not some arrogant, pompous ass, but a real gentleman. Fitz had once said Lizzie couldn't really hate him because she didn't really know him, and Darcy had spent much of the winter wishing for another opportunity to show her his true self. Well, this was that chance, wasn't it?

He could not, he should not, he definitely would not allow himself to begin to hope. That would lead to nothing except breaking his barely held together heart all over again. But he could try and show Lizzie that he was not all she thought he was. He could be magnanimous. He could be chivalrous. He could be friendly. And what more magnanimous, chivalrous, friendly act could there be than casting aside all past differences and granting Lizzie access to his internship program?

Darcy strode quickly to his desk, feeling an incredible lightness as he picked up his phone and dialed Dr. Stone's office.

"Kurt Stone."

"Dr. Stone, it's William Darcy. Tell Dr. Gardiner that we definitely have room to bring Lizzie Bennet on board for the winter internship."

"Excellent!" Even from three thousand miles away, Dr. Stone's pleasure was evident. "That's wonderful news. I'll tell Dr. Gardiner immediately. Thanks so much for this, Will."

An excited bolt of nervousness flashed through him. "We'll be glad to have her here."

"I'm so glad to hear it. Thanks again, Will. Keep in touch, and let me know when you're out on the East Coast again, all right?"

"Of course. Have a great semester."

"Bye."

Darcy hung up the phone, then promptly fell into his chair, taking deep breaths. He was unable to fully comprehend what had just happened. Lizzie Bennet had, once again, turned everything in his life upside down, and once again, she had no idea she was doing it. Darcy smiled, then gave a chuckle. The situation was so absurd he had to laugh. Fate, it seemed, was a fickle mistress.

A fickle mistress who's just dealt you a lucky hand.

Darcy stood, shaking his head at himself. Was he really so out of sorts that he was reduced to mixing metaphors? He would have to master that impulse before Lizzie got here. Because she was coming here. Lizzie Bennet was coming to Pemberley.

His stomach was a pit of nervous excitement, but his heart was bounding joyfully. Darcy could hardly keep the smile off his face as he walked out to the reception desk.

"Mrs. Jenkinson, could you please add a name to the list of new interns starting in January? We'll need to arrange an additional desk space as well."

Surprise registered on Mrs. Jenkinson's face, but she nodded. "Very well, Will. What's the name?"

"Lizzie," Darcy said, feeling heat creep into his cheeks, and not being to do anything to stop it. "Lizzie Bennet. 'Ie' on 'Lizzie,' and one 't' on Bennet. A master's student at Fresno State."

"Fresno?" Mrs. Jenkinson looked up. "Isn't that where you went with the Lees this past summer?"

"Yes, in a suburb outside the city. We, ah —" Darcy figured he'd just as well go on and say it. "We actually met Miss Bennet and her family out there."

"Oh how wonderful. What fun it will be to see her again," she said, smiling. "Lizzie, you said, right?"

"Yes," he said. "Lizzie Bennet."

Darcy couldn't help it. He smiled too.

Dr. Gardiner was just packing up her briefcase when her computer let out another tell-tale ding!

A — We're in. You owe me dinner next time you're in Boston. Let me know how everything goes. Regards, KS

She smiled.

Thanks so much for reading! Reviews are very much appreciated.