"This isn't my apartment building." Derek struggled to jam his keys into the lock while acting as a human crutch for Karen. Thank God his building had elevators, or they never would have made it this far.

"You wouldn't tell me where your apartment building was, remember?" In lieu of a better alternative, he'd chosen to bring her back to his place. The door swung open and Karen immediately staggered in. Her head swiveled back and forth, taking in her surroundings. She looked accusingly back at Derek.

"I know where we are."

"You should, you have been here before." Derek removed Karen's gym bag from his shoulder and dropped it on the floor.

"Mr. Wills, are your intentions honorable?" Examining his conscious, Derek could honestly say that, unlike the last time Karen had been in his apartment, his motives were pure.

"I assure you Ms. Cartwright, my only intentions at this moment are getting you into my bed-"

"Ah ha!"

"And leaving you there to get a good night's sleep." Karen squinted at him suspiciously.

"And where are you going to sleep?"

"On the sofa."

"That won't be much fun for you." Derek tried very hard not to imagine what might be a more 'fun' sleeping arrangement.

"It's a very comfortable sofa and you're my guest, so courtesy dictates you get the bed." Not to mention he was responsible for her being in her currently condition. Karen treated him to another of one her breath-taking smiles.

"Such a gentleman. Must be a British thing." Karen extended her hand to him, as though she wanted him to kiss it. Derek though putting his lips on any part of her was probably a terrible idea. Instead he took her hand and led her to his bedroom.

"That's what all British men want you think. In reality we tend to be much more George Wickam than Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"You read Jane Austen." Oh God, he so did not need anyone to know that. He pulled back the covers and blankets and she climbed in. He covered her back up and resisted the urge to tuck her in.

"Required reading for English school boys. We had to know what the all the girls were drooling over."

"Find any good tips?"

"Some." He waited for her to close her eyes and drift off, but instead she seemed to be studying him.

"You know, you do kind of remind me Mr. Darcy." Now that was a first. If he provoked any literary comparisons, they tended to be less complimentary. Derek had heard himself compared to "the Dark Lord" more than once. Not that he considered being compared to an ultra-powerful sorcerer an entirely bad thing.

"You mean my money and smoldering good looks?" Karen gazed at him thoughtfully.

"No. You seem arrogant and mean sometimes, but you're not really."

"Thank you very much. I can't say you remind me of Elizabeth though." His teasing had the desired result. Karen prompted herself on her elbows, so she was no longer lying down, but not quite sitting up.

"What! Why not?" She was evidently quite insulted. Derek chose to soothe her ruffled feathers, rather than continue his teasing.

"At the beginning of the book Mr. Darcy describes Elizabeth's looks as only 'tolerable'. I can't imagine any man ever saying that about you." Karen seemed pacified and lowered herself back onto the mattress.

"They didn't get along at first either you know." Karen closed her eyes and nestled deeper into his bed clothes.

"Who?"

"Darcy and Elizabeth. They were like us, when they met…they didn't…get along…." Her breathing had slowed and become shallower. With his sheets pulled up to her chin, Karen looked like a cocooned caterpillar with its head sticking out of the chrysalis. He should go. Instead he sat on the edge of the mattress, watching the mound of blankets rise and fall with her breathing.

Having a woman in his apartment was rare. He preferred to keep this space his private sanctuary and conducted his affairs at the apartments of his lovers. He even had a rehearsed story in case any one of them asked why they were never allowed a glimpse of his domicile. He fed them so rubbish he'd concocted years ago about a neighbor's stove, rather than grant them entrance. Yet here was Karen. He'd brought her here and he wasn't even getting any action out of the bargain. What a strange day it had been. He gradually lifted his weight from the bed so as not to disturb his slumbering houseguest and tiptoed out of his bedroom door.

Now what? Sleep, he supposed, would probably be his best option. It didn't look he was going to get the opportunity to change, so he'd be sleeping in his clothes. Nothing he hadn't done before. Derek's eyes fell on Karen's gym bag.

Tomorrow morning Karen would be changing out her exercise clothes and into whatever was in that bag. If he left them in there over night they would wrinkle and she'd be force to leave in what would appear to be "walk of shame" attire. The idea didn't sit quite right with Derek. He'd lay them out tonight and send them for dry cleaning tomorrow morning before she woke up.

When Derek unzipped the bag the first item he pulled out was a bulky red sweater. As he lifted it out of the bag a small hard object fell out of its folds and onto the floor. Derek reached over and picked it up. Karen's cell phone. The screen read "37 missed calls." Glad to see good old Dev wasn't panicking after only 3 hours of being without his girlfriend.

Derek was torn. Part of him felt the Dev deserved whatever fear and uncertainty he was feeling for upsetting Karen so much that she had walked out on Christmas. The other part of him had to acknowledge that Dev, whatever his faults, was worried about Karen's well-being. For all Dev knew his girlfriend was wandering the streets of New York City at midnight alone. Derek could only imagine what that would feel like, and he didn't envy Dev for having to experience. Sympathy for the Oxford man. Perfect. He was going to have to call that wanker, wasn't he? Happy Christmas to him. Derek opened up Karen's contacts and selected 'Dev'. 'Dev', what kind of a name was 'Dev' anyway? The boyfriend picked up after one ring.

"Karen? Are you alright? Where are you? Do you know how worried I've been? Your parents have been going bonkers with worry!" Derek was tempted to just hang up and forget the whole thing. Instead he followed his better nature and poorer instincts.

"It's Derek Wills, actually. Hi. Happy Christmas." There was a long beat of silence from the other end of the line. The calm before the storm.

"Why do you have Karen's phone? Where is she?" Derek didn't care for Dev's tone, not when he was doing the stupid git a favor by calling at all.

"Look, I'm not Karen. I don't care to be screamed at, particular not by a near stranger at 12:35 am. If you can't calm down, then I'm hanging up." There was a five second pause.

"I'm sorry. Would you please tell me where my girlfriend is?" The words were polite enough, even if they sounded like they were coming through gritted teeth, so Derek chose to answer.

"Karen's fine. She's here with me in my apartment. She's perfectly safe."

"Could you please put her on the phone?" The thought of waking Karen to subject her to Dev's interrogation was unacceptable to Derek.

"No, I can't, she's asleep, but I'm sure she'll be more than happy to talk to you tomorrow."

"How did she get to your apartment?" Instead of waiting until moment to grill his girlfriend, Dev had chosen to interrogate Derek instead. Lovely.

"We both rather coincidently ended up at the theater tonight. We had a few holiday drinks, and as the more sober one, I arranged safe transport back to my apartment. "

"May I ask why you couldn't send her home?"

"I tried, but I don't know your address and Karen wouldn't tell me so this seemed like the best solution available. Any way, that was all I was calling to tell you-"

"I'm sorry, what was all you were calling to tell me? That my girlfriend was currently sleeping in your apartment?" The pretense of civility was gone from Dev's voice.

"I was calling to reassure you that Karen was safe, so that you didn't worry." This definitely fell under the heading of, 'No good deed goes unpunished.'

"I have a fight with my girlfriend and hours later another man calls to tell me she's spent the night with him. This is supposed to reassure me how?"

"I don't know what you're implying, but-"

"You know exactly what I'm implying."

"You think I shagged your girlfriend and now I'm calling to gloat?" Derek could practically feel the heat from Dev's anger steam through his earpiece. He was sure he was in for an onslaught of profanity and he was perversely forward to it. Arguing with Dev felt far more natural than trying to be polite. He was startled when the next voice he heard through the phone wasn't Dev's at all.

"This is Dennis Cartwright, Karen's father." Oh God. This conversation had started bad and was heading toward worse at a frightening pace.

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright. Hello. Happy Christmas." Heaven help him, he was actually nervous. How long had it been since he'd been forced to interact with a woman's father? Whenever it was, he was fairly certain it hadn't gone well.

" Yeah, Merr..er..Happy Christmas to you too. Listen, we'd really feel more comfortable if Karen was home, resting in her own bed. If you could just give us your address, we'd be happy to come and pick her up." Derek could picture it now, Karen's father coming to rescue her from his clutches, possibly challenging him to pistols at dawn. That was a scenario he's like to avoid, if at all possible.

"I would Mr. Cartwright, however my apartment is at least twenty minutes away and I think that sleep is really the best thing for Karen at this moment."

"I thought you told Dev that you don't know where their apartment is?" Derek had a bad premonition about where this line of questioning was going.

"I don't."

"Then, how do you know it's at least twenty minutes away?" Oh bloody hell.

"Karen mentioned once before. Look sir-" Sir? What was happening here? The terrifying tyrannical Derek Wills reduced to a sweaty palmed teenager? If Tom could see him now, he'd be laughing his ass off.

"And when, exactly, was she over at your apartment before tonight?" Alright Wills, man up. You faced down rampaging starlets and apoplectic producers without blinking. You can handle Dennis Cartwright.

"Mr. Cartwright, this isn't something I'd care to discuss with you at this time of night, or quite frankly, ever. I only called you in the first place to ease your mind that Karen was in fact safe. Having done that, I will say good night to you and that'll you will see Karen tomorrow morning." Derek disconnected the call, smiling to himself. That had felt good. He was Derek Wills, that hadn't changed. He hadn't become some kind of soft, eunuchical, nancy boy just because Karen Cartwright had called him her friend. Then Derek proceeded to lay out Karen's clothes so her outfit wouldn't be wrinkled tomorrow.