A/N: WAS going to upload in time for my birthday, but my d-bag of a father prevented my access to internet. So. Yeah. It feels awkward doing something for you on my birthday, thought that's what it should be (i.e. bringing cupcakes to school, but only little kids do that often?). Anyway, yeah. You don't have to wish me Happy Birthday, although it seems like I only wrote this to get well wishes. I DIDN'T. Okay, I don't know how to explain this. It's like, I wanted to give you a reason for uploading. Yes? Or no? I'm confused. Please review

Chapter 11: Christmas

"And then, guess what he said?" Lydia asked excitedly.

Kitty looked just as excited. "What?" she asked, moving her hands in a ridiculous fashion. Lizzy sighed. She was bored. Very bored. Her body language made that obvious. She sat at the dinner table, her left elbow on the table, her hand supporting her chin, as she picked at her food.

"He said, that he did like blondes!" Lydia announced.

The two girls shrieked and began flailing their arms about wildly.

"Settle down, girls," Mr. Bennet said sternly, eyeing his two youngest daughters with disapproval. They barely glanced at him.

"Like, oh my god! What did he say next?" Kitty screeched.

Mrs. Bennet and Aunt Phillips were leaning in excitedly, listening in on the conversation.

Mary and Jane were engaged in some sort of conversation. Lizzy saw that Jane was nodding very politely when appropriate. She nearly smothered a giggle. Jane was too much of a psychologist. She knew how she should behave to be polite, and kind, though she would never admit to anyone of she was bored, or disliked them.

"Tell me, Lizzy," Mr. Bennet interrupted her thoughts, "what have you been up to these years?"

Lizzy turned to her father. "Nothing much, really. I've been writing a lot. That's all really."

"Kept yourself out of trouble, have you?" her father stared at her from the tops of his glasses.

"Err, not exactly. You see, I just found out that my publisher has been swindling me, but due to certain legal complications, there's really not much I can do."

"The bastard! Collins?"
"Yes."

"Why, there must be something you can do. Can't you leak this to the papers? Won't that ruin his reputation? Doesn't he work for that woman, what was her name?"

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh?"

"Yes, her. Couldn't she, as his superior, do something about it?"

"I doubt it," Lizzy admitted glumly, "I heard she's just as bad, if not worse than him."

"I thought she had a residence here. Isn't that right? We should set up a meeting."

"She's probably in England, though. That's how I first met Collins; he was with her on some order of business, and he heard that I was a writer, so I showed him some of my work. That's how I got my first contract."

"But you'll be living here, then?" Mr. Bennet asked.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"But you love New York!"

"Yeah, but I'll go back sometime. It's Jane who really has something in New York?"

"Oh?" Mr. Bennet looked curious.

"She has a boyfriend." Lizzy smiled.

Mrs. Bennet whipped her head around. "Jane? A boyfriend? What's his name? Is he handsome? Is he rich?"

Jane blushed.

"Charles Bingley," Lizzy announced.

Mrs. Bennet gasped, and her hands flew to the side of her face. "Charles Bingley? As in Bingley Publishing House?"

"The one and the same," Lizzy affirmed.

"Why, he's so rich! And not bad-looking either!"

Jane blushed even more deeply.

"I'm so happy for you, my darling Jane!"

Lizzy and Mr. Bennet snickered together.

Mrs. Bennet sighed dramatically, looking towards the ceiling, "If only I could have all my daughters so happily married."

"Mama, she's not married," Lizzy pointed out.

Mrs. Bennet frowned, "You mean, she's not married yet. With Jane's beauty and good nature, there can be no doubt that he would like to marry her."

"Mama! You flatter me too much," Jane objected.

"There can be no flattering for someone like you," Mrs. Bennet insisted.

Mr. Bennet looked very red from trying to suppress his laughter, and Lizzy was laughing at his efforts.

Suddenly, Mrs. Bennet turned to her husband. "What is it that has got you 'in stitches'?"

He immediately tried to calm himself. "Er… nothing."

Lizzy smirked.

"This is great news!" Mrs. Bennet was beside herself.

"He's visiting for New Year's."

"Oh my! Does he have a place to stay? He should just stay with us! We have a spare bedroom! Well, I would rather not clean it. He can just stay in Jane's bedroom."

"Ahem," Lizzy coughed, "I happen to share a bedroom with Jane."

"Why, that's perfect, then. You can use the spare bedroom."

Jane was crimson. "Mama, I think he will be staying with Will."

"Will? Who?" Mrs. Bennet looked confused.

"Will Darcy," Jane clarified.

"What? That man? That unpleasant, arrogant, disagreeable man?"

"The very one," Lizzy declared.

"What is he doing here? I thought he was kicked out of the family?" Aunt Phillips spoke up.

"Uhm, I don't know about that. But I think it's not our business," Jane pointed out.

"Why, of course it's our business. We have a right to know what's going on here!"

"But it's their personal business," Jane said.

"Nobody's business is personal in the end," Aunt Phillips waved her hand airily.

Jane frowned slightly, but said nothing.

"I don't suppose you have a boyfriend, Lizzy." Mrs. Bennet sniffed.

Lizzy laughed, "I have no interest in attaining one, mother."

Aunt Phillips looked scandalized. "But you must intend on marrying!"

"Not particularly, actually." Lizzy shrugged. "I'm quite happy on my own."

"But you ought to have a husband!" she insisted. "How else will you support yourself?"

"You may not realize this, Aunt, but I am quite capable of supporting myself now," Lizzy said. "In this day and age, women are quite capable of independent living."

"But that is so—so—"

"So… what?" Lizzy asked.

"Improper!" Aunt Phillips finally managed.

"In the modern world, this kind of misogynist attitude is both impractical and no longer common accepted," Lizzy argued.

"Hmm," she turned her head away, clearly displeased with Lizzy's point of view.

Lizzy shrugged. Not everyone could agree with her, and she didn't mind. She wasn't asking everyone to agree with her. Besides, her aunt and mother were so old-fashioned. They hardly belonged in the 21st century…

"Well, uhm, I got you presents," Jane announced.

"Ooooh!" Lydia and Kitty screeched together. Even Mary looked up from her book. Mrs. Bennet frowned, noticing Mary's book.

"How many times have I told you not to read at the dinner table?" she asked in an irritated tone of voice.

"Must have been a thousand times by now, mother," Mary said, without putting down her book.

"Mary! This is a family dinner. You will put your book down, especially because this is a Christmas dinner," Mrs. Bennet announced firmly.

"Mom! I have nothing better to do at this table," Mary objected.

"You can eat, Mary. That's important."

"Don't lecture, Mom."

"Just let it go, dear," Mr. Bennet interceded. "It's Christmas."

Mrs. Bennet sighed, but made no objection to his request. "Let us go see your presents then, Jane."

She stood up, and the rest of the family followed suit. Jane pulled Lizzy behind her, and whispered, "They're from me and you."

Lizzy looked confused for a second, but she finally understood. "What? No, I can't; you're the one who put all the effort, thought, and money into buying the presents. I can't take credit for this."

"Mom's going to yell at you if you didn't bring her a present."

Lizzy sighed. "If she's going to yell at me, then so be it."

Jane frowned. "Oh come on, Lizzy. It's Christmas!"

"So?"

Jane rolled her eyes, "You're like a Grinch, or maybe a Stooge. Possibly both. This cynical mentality could only be a cause of—"

"Whatever," Lizzy said, "if you really miss psychoanalyzing, I would suggest returning to the industry."

Jane smiled. "Maybe I will. Weill you be my first patient?"

"Definitely," Lizzy smiled brightly, before adding, "not."

"Maybe you could analyze the effects love has on Charles Bingley's behavior," Lizzy suggested cheerfully, "or what made Caroline into such a sick and twisted bitch."

Jane gasped. "Lizzy! That is so unkind of you. Caroline has been perfectly gracious. You have no reason to say that about her."

Lizzy laughed, "So you think. It's hard for you to see people's true characters when you believe the best of them. That is a failing for psychologists."

"Lizzy, I see people's true characters quite clearly. But I always do not allow my opinion of them to be stained until something concrete happens, and even then, I can empathize, because I may be aware of the causes of such a character."

Lizzy sniffed. "I shall not argue with you anymore."

Jane smiled, "Then help me carry the presents." She handed Lizzy a few boxes, and took several for herself. Lizzy rolled her eyes and gave a great, heavy sigh. She took them anyway. They carried them together into the room, and were greeted with squeals of happiness. Lizzy, seeing that Jane was watching her, made a conscious effort to smile.

---

Darcy lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. What a pitiful Christmas he was experiencing. His boss had spent Christmas eve with his sisters, and he had declined the invitation, feeling it would be intrusive to sit in on a family dinner. He felt so useless and friendless. He had no friends to get drunk with on the holiday, nor someone to come home to.

Suddenly, he began wondering what exactly he had accomplished with his life. Absolutely nothing. If one took the career-centered approach to life, he had done nothing; he had been given the chance to head an entire company, yet he had given it up to pursue a girl. But if one favored the idea, "love is all you need," he had failed entirely in that category as well. Lizzy was no closer to being his as she was ten years ago, and if he followed through with his plan, she may be forever not his. He shuddered slightly at the thought. The concept of living his whole life without her seemed utterly foreign, but it scared him to realize how likely it could be. She had always been that presence in his mind, despite distance and time.

Feeling his resolve crumble, he grabbed the phone, and dialed a number.

The phone rang precisely three times before it was picked up.

"Hello?" said a female voice.

His stomach did a little flip as he heard her voice.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Uhm," he managed to say articulately.

"Who is this?" Lizzy asked. Her voice sounded irritated, as if she had no more patience.

"This Darcy," he told her very quickly, slurring together "this" and "is." He winced, and could almost hear her frowning.

"Why are you calling?" she snapped.

"Uh, did you get there all right?" he asked, feeling very self-conscious.

"Yes, I did, as a matter of fact."

There was an awkward silence.

Then, in the background, he heard, "Lizzy? Who's calling you? We're about to open presents!"

Then he heard a sigh and a grumble.

"Wait! I know you're not going to want to open presents with them, right? So just use me as an excuse not to," Darcy said desperately, almost pleading.

She sighed again. "Everyone has ulterior motives. Can't escape the human race," she muttered.

"The best idea, therefore, is to use you as an excuse," Darcy's heart lifted, "and to hang up. Then I get the best of both worlds," she decided.

"But you'd be lying," Darcy pointed out.

"Since when have you had such scruples about lying?" she challenged.

His voice became cold, "And since when have I not." He didn't wait for an answer. "Oh, wait, I forgot. In your eyes, I am a liar. Right? Because you are stubborn, and believe only what you want to believe. Would you take even a second to acknowledge that you are wrong? Or at least, step back to evaluate the truth. You can't call yourself a writer, if you can't even understand basic motives. How can you construct a convincing argument as a novel, and make people believe?"

His words stung. They really did. And it wasn't the first time she had been told that. Her college professor had once told her that her writing was flat, and her characters were often unbelievable.

"And the whole reason that your writing is so flat is that you cut yourself off from other people, so you can't even begin to understand human relationships," he nearly shouted into the phone.

She snorted, trying to disguise how much the words cut into her ego. "What about you? You couldn't even get along with your parents while they were still alive, and what about Wickham? And you had to force me to go out with you because you couldn't get a girl."

"Wrong again, I couldn't get a particular girl to go out with me, and that was only because she was so obstinate and just bad at relationships. It's no wonder she turned out to be the loner who could only sit in the library reading books. What companionship do books give you in the real world?" he challenged.

Tears filled her eyes as she yelled into the phone, "Well, at least I'm good at something. You're only good at making people feel like dirt." She hung up the phone, and wiped her eyes, dashing upstairs while yelling some excuse to Jane.

Darcy remained in the same position for a moment, then let go of the phone, not caring as it clattered to the floor. He stared at it for some time, running over the conversation again and again in his head. Why did things always go so, so wrong around that girl? He couldn't get a single thing right. Was it true? Did he make people feel like dirt? It was a sobering thought, but very possibly true.

In fact, he wondered why he had not realized this before. It seemed glaringly obviously now that she brought it up, and he frowned as instances were recalled. Instances that could only prove her right. He wanted to call her, and apologize for his harsh words. He knew that she could be very fragile sometimes, and he wanted to apologize, and beg her forgiveness for the hurt he had probably caused her. But some part of him was arrogant enough to suppose that he was right, and she was wrong, and probably deserved the criticisms she received. So he did not redial.

----

Lizzy lay on what used to be her bed. It was now Mary's and was surrounded by piles of books considered to be dry enough and "educational" enough for her to read. She almost wanted to call back and apologize for saying such harsh words, but her pride would not allow her to apologize for the criticisms that he probably deserved. She did not redial.

A/N: I'm so sorry it's a short chapter, I just don't have motivation. And I'm super tired. So so sorry. I don't want to quit, so at least this is better than quitting, right? Please review!