Later that night, after Anne was asleep and the house was quiet, I went into the living room to think. The real wood burning fireplace was maintaining the rooms toasty, comforting atmosphere, and the soft, swallow-you-right-up couch that Elizabeth currently occupied was the perfect place on which to replay George's words to me and figure out how I felt about them.

"Elizabeth, you're still up?" Darcy walked further into the room allowing me a glimpse of the sharp features of his face as he walked past the fireplace. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good, I'll just go back to my study now that I know you're alright."

"Are you avoiding me?"

Darcy paused for a minute as he deliberated his answer. "Not ignoring, per se, just giving you space."

"I won't be able to learn anything about you if you're never around."

"I know, it's just... ."

"It's just what?" I pressed as I stood to properly see Darcy's face and look him in the eyes.

"I don't want to accidentally do something to make you hate me more." Darcy turned his eyes away from my penetrating gaze as the fire sparked and hissed.

"I don't hate you," I reassured him, "I'm just really confused."

"I know," he whispered as he once again returned my gaze.

We stared at each other in mutual understanding for what seemed like ages before I broke the silence.

"I almost forgot, I really want to know what went on with you and George Wickham? Why does he dislike you so much."

Darcy rubbed his face as he led me back to the couch. "Did he try to contact you?"

"Yeah, he asked me to get coffee with him, so I went but I had to leave early. He was saying some weird things about your controlling me."

Darcy chuckled to himself before replying, "Well, he's perseverant; I'll give him that."

"So, why does he hate you?"

Darcy gave me a sideways glance before he asked, "Are you in the mood for a sordid tale of family, vengeance, and cursed young love."

"Of course, those are my favorite kind of tales," I grinned as I gave Darcy my undivided attention.

"I've known George Wickham for a long time. We grew up together..."

"Hi, I'm George Wickham.

W-I-C-K-H-A-M. Wickham. What's your name?" An over exuberant boy no more than six asked Will with a smile.

William nervously looked up to the boy. George

W-I-C-K-H-A-M seemed to be about Will's age which did nothing to ease his nervousness. Will was terribly shy and awkward around children his own age. He didn't posses the easygoing nature with which most children were innately(?) born. He was not much of a conversationalist, and much preferred the calm quiet of solitude to the boisterous sounds of chattering activity.

"Um... hello. I'm William Darcy," young Will replied before turning to walk back to his room.

"Wait," an amused George laughed, "I wanted to know if you wanted to play with my new toy cars. My dad is your dad's driver, and he told me to go play with my cars while he washed the cars. He said that you and me were the same age, so do you want to play. They're remote-controlled and everything. I'll even let you use the red one."

Maybe it was the sincere smile etched on little George's cherubic face or it was the way he clasped his hands together in an exaggerated pleading prayer. Whatever it was, Will Darcy found his afternoon and many subsequent afternoons filled with car races and happy laughter.

"... we learned together..."

"George, George, you've got to see this!" a young Will Darcy innocent and over eager shouted as he ran to meet his childhood friend. George was sitting in a secluded corner outside the house. The veranda shaded him from the sweltering sun, but the cool shade seemed to be doing nothing to abate his anger.

"I can't play with you William," George began with a clipped voice.

"He must be really angry with me," Will thought for his best friend never called him by his slightly pretentious first name.

"I have to sit under this tree until my father gets back as my punishment."

"What? Why did you get punished?"

"For breaking the upstairs window with the baseball. Mrs. Reynolds is making me sit under this tree until she can find my father who will 'deal with me accordingly.'" George replied as he continued to sulk.

Will knew all about the baseball incident. He had been there when George had flung his new baseball as hard as he could trying to get it over the towering roof of their home. He had undershot by many hundreds of feet and shattered a window on the fourth floor to boot.

"I'll tell Mrs. Reynolds that I was the one who broke the window."

"You'd do that for me?" George asked with hopeful twinkling eyes.

"Yeah, of course. Mrs. Reynolds can't punish me since I technically own Pemberley, and my father won't be back until next month.

George lit up before he excitedly expressed his gratitude towards me and apologized for his earlier coldness.

"You're welcome, and don't worry about apologizing. I understand," I replied before running off to find Mrs. Reynolds. I never even realized that I at the tender age of nine had just exposed George Wickham to the seemingly glorious benefits of lies and deception.

"... and we mourned together..."

"Darce, I'm really sorry about your father. You know I loved him as much as you and Georgie did. Heck, he was like a second father to me. He was there when no one else wanted me. It was really nice what he did for my dad and I. Treated us like we were family instead of the help. I wonder if it was fate that led me to you that day so many years ago when we first met. You remember that day right? We were both six and you looked like you were angry with the world. You've always been a serious type of person, Darce. I like that about you. You and me are exact opposites, but I guess that's why we work. You're like the yin to my yang. Sorry, I'm rambling."

Darcy exhaled in a long drawn out whoosh before he replied, "No, it's okay. I don't mind your rambling. It's comforting to hear you talk.

"We've both lived through the same things even though our lives are completely different. But no matter how much or how little money you have, the loss of a loved one hurts the same. I just want you to know that I'm here for you."

With those last words said, George and I stood in silence as the sun shone bright on my father's grave. Complete and utter silence - there was no hugging our comforting hand gestures or warm smiles. None of that was us, and we both understood that none of that stuff would make the pain go away. Like George said, "That's why we work."

"He was a friend to me and I loved him as a brother, but when the time came to choose which manner of men we would be, I chose the difficult way, while he chose the easy way."

"Darce, I need more money."

"What happened to the extra 10 grand I gave you four months ago? Did you gamble it away already? Why don't you get a real job, so that you don't have to rely on people who work in the real world to give you handouts?" I irritably exclaimed. I had a meeting in thirty minutes that I needed to prep for and an email I had to get sent today. I was in no mood to entertain George Wickham at the moment.

"Come on, Darce. Don't be like that. You know that it's hard for me to find a job. Besides, it's not like you'll miss a couple thousand dollars. Help an old friend out," George pleaded as he flashed me his charming smile which ceased to charm me a long time ago.

"No, I'm done enabling you, George. I'm not giving you anymore money. Not including what my dad left you in his will, I've given you more than a quarter of a million dollars over the past seven years, and I've gotten no return on my investment. You still have no job, no house, no car, and no plans. I can't keep coddling you like you're some child. It's time to grow up and be a man."

George's face hardened and his voice chilled over when he realized that he had finally been cut off. "What would you know about being a man? Everything you have was handed to you on a golden plate with a moist toilette and a titanium spoon. All of this," George said as he gestured around the lavishly decorated office, "All of it was the Darcy name. Generations of inherited wealth that sat in heaps and gained interest, so much so that you can arrogantly sit there and refuse me, your childhood friend, a few thousand dollars during a time of need," George looked at me with disgust before coldly saying, "You'll regret this William. You'll regret this." And with those last ominous words, George turned and walked out of my life forever - or so I thought.

A/N: It feels really good to be back. For awhile I thought that I'd just let this story fall through the cracks into oblivion, but something inside of me just wouldn't let me forget it. I'm in the process of reworking some of the older chapters and making some adjustments but nothing to big. I kind of know where I want to go with this story now, and I want to update it at least once a month. I'll probably go Mia every once in awhile or take a break to write a oneshot about my new favorite book or movie, but I'll finish this story eventually, someday. Anyway, thank you to every reader who came back to read my story after I went on my unjustifiably long hiatus. I really do appreciate your faves, follows, and reviews (I proudly accept constructive flames). And to all my new readers (if you're out there) thanks for taking a chance on my story, your views warm my heart.

On another note, I really wanted to get this chapter up before I went to bed, so I apologize in advance if it seems in cohesive or rushed (my brain doesn't function so well when I'm rushing at night. I see stuff that aren't there). I'll re-edit all of my chapters tomorrow or Saturday, and I'll probably take out all the author's notes chapters so the story flows without interruption. i hope that this author's note doesn't have any mistakes because I don't feel like reading it over.

- Faith Zingeswar [that's my new pseudonym :)]