Snitches and Talkers Get Stitches and Walkers

Life & Style was never really his cup of tea – it lacked all of the important features of an entertaining magazine, like bare breasts and centerfolds, but this specific issue caught his eye:

America's Sweethearts

An in depth look at the whirlwind romance of Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy.

By all appearances the article was your standard puff piece; it was an exclusive with basically anyone who'd ever remotely come into contact with Darcy and Lizzie (the sort of thing that reeked of journalistic desperation when the actual subject(s) of the piece refused to be interviewed). There were words from some of Lizzie's former co-workers, from her best friend, her mother, Darcy's cousin Richard, and to his surprise Georgiana – who Darcy practically stowed away in an underground bunker just to keep the press off of her.

It was touching, really: Fitzwilliam, still nursing a broken heart from his break up with model, Eva Lane, reluctantly agreed to be setup on a blind date with Lizzie (orchestrated by their mutual friend, Charlotte Lucas). Bird's chirped happily, deer and other various cutesy woodland creatures frolicked, the hills were alive with the sound of music – oh, it was love. Their courtship was brief, with the couple tying the knot a mere two months after taking their relationship public, and then of course came the happy announcement that Elizabeth was pregnant. She'd gone a whole five months with nary a clue (and there was a very amusing anecdote from her mother about how they all thought, "she had just gotten a bit fat").

For the life of him, Wickham could not recall ever having seen such a large amount of horseshit contained in one place. The public would eat it up and he was more than willing to let those who based their entire life's happiness on the trials of celebrities keep their fairytale dream. Once upon a time, though, he'd gotten off on the idea of being the one to break the news of Fitzwilliam's great scam; watching the Prince Regent of the Darcy Empire crushed under the weight of such a scandal would have been better than sex and the opportunity had practically fallen into his lap. But, Wickham had a penchant for blowing his load way too quickly, and decided on celebrating a victory over that pompous shithead that had yet to come. A trip to Vegas and a buy in into an exclusive, high-stakes poker game was in hindsight, a deeply stupid idea, one that required he break the lease on his apartment, shut off his cell phone, and pay a surprise two month visit to his Nana Lucille in Kansas (where he was a hit at the Shady Groves Retirement Home backgammon tables).

The door creaked open enough to allow a bald head to poke itself around the frame and Wickham casually tossed the magazine to the side.

"Shane says he'll see you now," the bald man grunted in a heavy Boston accent.

Wickham rose to his feet and made sure to flash an unaffected smile as he walked into the room because the worst thing he could do at this moment would be to let on just how close he was to passing out from fear. "Long time no see, man. How've you been?"

The coolly imposing figure with his feet casually propped up on the desk let the corner of his lips jerk upwards in a bizarre state in between a smile and a sneer. "I can't complain. You look taller somehow, Danny. Pat, does Danny look taller to you?"

The bald man, who'd positioned himself like a statue in the corner of the room, ran his beady, black eyes over Wickham. "People always seem taller when you haven't seen them for a while. I'm thirty four years old and my mom always thinks I've gotten taller."

Shane gave a shrug of his shoulders. "I'm inclined to believe that Danny here is still a growing boy, he's so baby-faced. I trust you're in good health?"

Wickham nodded. "How's the wife and the kid?"

"Peachy keen," he told him with a toothy grin, "April and I are thinking of trying for another one since Lola's started kindergarten, and when are you going to cut the shit and hand over my money?"

"Shane, I…"

"Unless the following words out of your mouth are 'Shane, I have your $500,000' I don't want to hear it. That is a substantial amount of money…"

"A colossal amount," Pat dryly supplied from his corner.

"That is not the sort of debt a man can just let go unpaid," Shane continued, "I'm sure you understand, Danny. I mean, it's nothing personal – it's just the way this business works. If I gave every guy a pass and let him welsh on a bet, this bad ass mother fucker image of mine would be impossible to maintain."

Wickham swallowed. Hard. "Right, I understand…I just needed a little time, that's all, but I will have your money to you real, real soon."

Pat grunted, "I think you should make him pinky swear."

"Yes, that's a good idea, Patty," Shane said enthusiastically and motioned for Wickham to come closer. Placing his elbow down on the desktop, he stuck his own pinky finger up in the air. "C'mon then, Danny."

Reluctantly Wickham did as he was told; elbow on the desktop he slowly raised his pinky, and in one, swift motion, Shane snapped the digit back filling the room with a sickening pop and screams of pain.

"The next time you grace me with your presence, I better have some sort of fucking payment in my fucking hands!" He growled. "Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

As Wickham and his poor, broken finger made their way to the nearest E.R. he resigned himself to the fact that he may never get another chance to tap dance on the remnants of Darcy's perfect image. He'd never quite gotten a hold of the smoking gun, the contract, and without it no one else was buying. A great setback to his original plans to be sure, but on the bright side, all he needed was a good bluff to take Darcy for all he was worth.

Men never went for Charlotte Lucas. All of her life she'd played the plain, but amusing sidekick to some other girl's beauty. In times of despair caused by asshole boyfriends, she supplied the shoulder to lean on, and on nights out she watched the purses and made sure every drink was sufficiently GHB-free. This was all well and good with her – she'd never been much of a romantic – but on that fateful night between Lizzie and Darcy, Charlotte had dropped the "ugly friend" creed of 'we came together, we leave together' all because she had met a man.

Okay, so he wasn't exactly the best looking thing ever. He was shorter than her (and at 5'4 she wasn't what you'd call an Amazon), had non-existent dance skills, a tendency for weird compliments (apparently, she possessed the most exquisite earlobes), and, bless him, he still thought a soul-patch was a good idea. None of that really mattered to Charlotte, however, because for once she was getting all of the attention.

Attempts at contact had been fruitless ('the wireless customer you are trying to reach is currently unavailable') and out of sheer desperation, she had lowered herself to going back to that club nearly every Friday night. Make no mistake, she wasn't suddenly in-touch with her mediocre chick-flick loving side. It was just that her apartment was a Jane/Charlie woobie love nest and well, with the way Darcy had been staring at Lizzie for the past seven months (and the way Lizzie was currently staring at him from across the table) Charlotte couldn't help feeling as though she were missing out.

Silently Charlotte drank her milkshake, and kept a lid on her jealousy while Lizzie and Darcy teased each other.

"You said you'd give it a try."

"Well, then I'm a filthy liar."

"Oh, a liar in addition to being a snob, a meddler…what a fucking catch you are."

"You like me anyway."

Lizzie blushed and shoved her animal-style fries in Darcy's direction. "One bite."

He grimaced. "You're pushy."

"It's part of my charm."

It was a friggen smile-fest in the middle of In-and-Out Burger (Charlotte had no idea that Darcy's face muscles were even capable of turning up that way) and the general get-a-room-y-ness of the two made her stomach churn. "I'm going to get another shake," she announced, slinking out of her chair, though it was doubtful the pair had heard a word she said.

Lizzie's giggle floated into her ear from across the room and despite every effort, Charlotte's eyes did the sort of exaggerated roll that necessitated a sudden pause in her step. The poor guy booking his way to the soda fountain never saw it coming.

There was a rapid exchange of 'ow's" and 'oh, geez – I'm so sorry's' before recognition dawned on them both:

"Charlotte?!"

"Henry?!"

"Oh my goodness; the world really is as small as they say!" Henry beamed like a kid on Christmas and threw his arms around her in a bear hug.

She gave a nervous laugh, a little taken aback by the show of affection. "It's good to see you."

"Wow, this is just so great! I thought for sure I'd never see you again; I lost your number and I've just gotten back from Indonesia…"

"Indonesia?"

"I was doing some filming there and – well, hey come and sit with me and we'll catch up."

"Actually, I'm here with some friends of mine…"

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed grabbing her hand. "I'll join you!"

There are just some people one never expects to (or wants to) see again; you grow up – sometimes more physically than emotionally – you move away, you make attempts at starting a life that no longer revolves around biology homework and trendy tables in the cafeteria. And (if a just and loving god exists) you'll never have to think about the bane(s) of your adolescent existence until you grace them with a hotter, richer version of yourself in the banquet hall of some Holiday Inn and Suites ten years down the line.

This notion was hard and fast for Elizabeth, so imagine her surprise at looking up to find Henry 'Creeper' Collins standing in front of her table and latched onto her best friend.

Henry had been a constant companion from kindergarten to twelfth grade. With the exception of a chicken pox related reprieve, not a day went by without him declaring his undying love and devotion for her.

There were the notes ("will you be my girlfriend? Check 'yes' or 'no'), and the G.I. Joe Valentine's Day /box of conversation hearts combo that awaited her every year until they reached an age were such childishness was unacceptable, and G.I. Joe found himself replaced with awful prose ("Oh, Lizzie you've got me in such a tizzy. One kiss from your lips would make me feel dizzy"). And then there were the few occasions where Mr. Bennet was forced to chase him out of the bushes near his daughter's window.

Lizzie choked on her Sprite, receiving a concerned pat on the back from an unaware Darcy.

"Elizabeth Bennet?!" Henry was all smiles as he turned to Charlotte, "This is your friend?"

"What's up, Henry?" Lizzie attempted a pleasant smile and failed miserably.

This, however, went right over Henry's head; he excitedly pulled out a chair and took a seat (a confused Charlotte following his lead) talking a mile a minute. "Or, I suppose I should say 'Elizabeth Darcy' now."

His eyes fixed on Fitzwilliam he thrust a hand in the man's face and shook it far longer than what could be considered socially acceptable. "Mr. Darcy it is an immense pleasure to finally meet you, sir. My brother, Bill and I have the honor of working for your noble family; he's Anne's personal assistant and I have the distinct pleasure of being a cameraman on your Aunt Lady Catherine's, show. Oh, she'll be thrilled when I tell her I ran into you! She was just saying the other day how much she longed to see you and Elizabeth…we've just returned from a shoot in Indonesia and Lady Catherine's having 'Welcome Home' dinner, she's had such hard luck with trying to get in touch with you…"

Before Darcy could get a word in edgewise, Henry was pulling out his Blackberry. "…I'm just going to give her a call…"

Darcy paled, his eyes widening. "No, no you don't have to do that!"

"Hello, Lady Catherine! I hope you're having a pleasant – this is, Henry." He paused and a screech of 'Henry who' from the other end of the line was clearly heard. "Henry Collins, m'am. You'll never guess who I'm with at this very moment – your nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy…yes, yes of course…" he shoved the phone into Darcy's hand absolutely missing the glare of death that marred the man's features.

"Hello, Auntie," Darcy attempted a pleasant tone and failed miserably.

"You two know each other?" Charlotte asked, surprised.

"Oh, Elizabeth and I go way back," Henry supplied. "It's great that we can sit here, two ex's with our current loves, and there be no awkwardness between us."

Lizzie's mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"You dated?" Charlotte looked a bit crestfallen.

"For thirty minutes…in kindergarten," Lizzie said.

Henry chuckled. "Elizabeth exposed me to the fickle nature of women…"

Lizzie frowned. "Fickle my ass, you were caught eating paste; that's an automatic deal breaker even at five."

"You really haven't changed a bit, have you?" Henry let his eyes rake appraisingly over her form. "Except, I suppose the Freshman Fifteen must be hard to overcome."

Charlotte had the good sense to cringe and silently willed Lizzie to have mercy on Collins's soul.

Lizzie blinked her dark eyes revealed the contemplation of Murder One, but she bit her tongue. "I'm seven months pregnant."

"Yes, well Lizzie and I have been really busy, Auntie…yes, I know that's not a sufficient excuse…no, I haven't been ignoring your calls."

"Oh," Henry laughed, "congratulations! Boy or girl?"

"We're leaving that a surprise," Lizzie answered curtly.

"That's wonderful! I wish more couples had the patience to do that these days; my brothers and I were pleasant surprises for our parents."

Lizzie grinned wickedly. "I'm sure."

"Yes, we'd love to come…wouldn't miss it for the world…" With a heavy sigh, Darcy handed the phone back to Henry.

"I take it Charlotte and I will be seeing you two at the dinner?"

Darcy made a noise somewhere in the back of his throat and the little vein on his forehead began to dance. "Absolutely."

"Excellent; I can't wait to properly catch up with you, Lizzie and to get to know you better, Mr. Darcy." After committing Charlotte's number to his phonebook, Henry placed a kiss on her cheek and made a ridiculous show of bowing in Darcy's direction before taking off.

The silence at the table was chilling and Charlotte found herself laughing to keep from crying. "So, I uh…I met a guy."

Author's Note: Fuck, this is a long one so strap yourselves in.

Back in Ch.20, I did a Q and A session answering some common questions I've gotten, so if you find yourself the least bit confused on anything – please check that first as the answers you seek are probably there. In the event that they're not, definitely feel free to contact me. All I ask is that, if you prefer to leave your question in a review, please sign in so I can PM you with a response as quickly as possible or leave an email. Anon reviews full of questions but with no email forces me to leave you hanging until the next update and with the way my schedule runs nowadays who knows when that will be. My myspace, livejournal, and email are all on my profile – don't be scared to use those if you don't have a fanfic account and even if you do – I'm all for making new friends.

If I forgot to mention it, I'm deeply sorry, but the ending to Ch.1 was rewritten some time ago.

Also, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT try and apply the actual timeline in Pride and Prejudice this story, doing so will only make your head explode. I've mixed things up, I've taken things out completely and I did this on purpose. I've read P&P enough, and spent enough afternoons with Colin, Matthew, and Laurence, and as much as I love this story, I don't need it word for word in my fanfiction (I assume you don't either). My favorite stories always contain elements of Austen's work, just re-imagined. That's all this story was ever meant to be. I did say to think of the wedding chapters as the Netherfield Ball, because that is the height of contention between the two (and Pemberly replaced Rosings in my story as the place for Lizzie's anger at Darcy to come to a head). They've got one more obstacle to overcome, but Lizzie will never hate him again.

The bathroom/5 things I hate about you scene in the last chapter is not supposed to represent anything in P&P. The list thing is just something kinda quirky that I thought would be cute to give them a connection on; Darcy's been making lists throughout and Lizzie hinted at her propensity for it in Ch.1. The actual P&P references in that chapter are just wink-and-nods to the original text and aren't a benchmark for the timeline.

Wickham is officially back as of…well, this chapter right here. Oh, and he will not be running away with Lydia or even meeting Lydia. And then there's Lady Catherine and Eva to contend with (oh, I didn't forget about her). We're close to being done, but there's still a bit to go :)