The curtains were open, and William found himself assaulted as soon as the sun was up. He also found himself attacked with a paw tapping him on the face. The kitten was very persistent.

"Go away," he growled. The cat poked again. "Go away," he shoved at the little thing, but she protested, loudly, at his man-handling her. He was amazed by how noisy such a small creature could be. "Damn it. I'm sorry I fed you last night."

William crawled out of bed thinking that he might need to help the cat down to the floor, but when food was involved, its ability to get itself off of the bed was amazing. He dressed, and the two made their way to the kitchen. Lizabeth wasn't up yet. He figured that she would have a difficult time of it that morning as she had to go to work (not that he didn't), but he set his own hours. She would need to be at the office at 8:00 a.m. It was amazing how much he knew about her when he had only met her…a week ago? He left off thinking about his hostess, as his hostess' cat became more insistent about being fed, so he took care of that task.

Then he looked in vain for a coffee pot. It was a sparse apartment as he poked around, rifilling through the cupboards, but they were bare. He looked in the refrigerator, but it too was bare, not overly stocked with condiments and expired items that cluttered his own and his friends' kitchens. William ate out a lot, but he still had food in the house when it was needed. Even Lizabeth's furniture was modular—as if it had all been bought for this particular place. It wasn't as if she moved from place to place and acquired that assortment of items that everyone did as they moved around and over time. Lizabeth was different, definitely different, from other women he knew.

He wondered if he should go in and check on her? But he didn't think that he knew that well to brave what was now a closed door. She had gotten up at some time in the middle of the night and had probably closed the door against the cat (which was why the kitten had sought him out). Now he was faced with being in a stranger's house, wondering what he should do. Wait for her to wake up? Knock on the door? They had no relationship, and how the hell did I get myself into this, he wondered. And why the hell doesn't she have a coffee pot?

Her keys still sat on the chair by the front door. He could steal them and let himself out to get coffee, which would make the start of his day more palatable. He did that. William wasn't sure if she was a coffee drinker, but he thought that black coffee wouldn't be a bad idea, so he got her some. He also ran into a convenience store and bought himself a toothbrush.

It was past 7:00 when he let himself back into the apartment. It seemed odd to knock when he had the keys, so he didn't.

"Lizabeth?" he called out as he walked in. There was no answer, but he heard the sound of a shower. She had managed to drag herself out of bed. He sat down on the couch and lost himself in checking emails. He thought about work while he drank coffee and waited to play chauffeur. There were the sounds of doors and drawers opening and shutting.

William wondered if Lizabeth even remembered that she had asked him to stay. That would be a surprise, he supposed. The cat lay sleeping next to him on the couch, fed, and content. Maybe she had peeked at the cat, and gone to take her shower figuring he had left?

When Lizabeth Bennet walked down the hall dressed for work, he was startled and looked up from his phone. She screamed.


Lizabeth woke with her head pounding; she thought she had never experienced such a headache. When she tried to sit up, she found she couldn't, as it felt as though there was a large rock attached to it; she could only lay back against her pillow for a while.

The pain pulsed inside as she tried to remember exactly how she had gotten home. Someone had brought her home. At first, she thought it had been Edgar, then she recalled she had gone to the hotel and discovered that he had cheated on her. She shuddered, which just made her head hurt even more. Finally, she pushed herself up forcefully and propped a pillow behind her head. William Darcy had been at the bar and talked to her. Lizabeth had an idea that he had driven her home, which meant she needed to figure out how to get to work as she didn't have her car.

She thought about the kitten. While her head pounded and was no motivation to get up, the cat's needs got her to swing her legs over the side of the bed. Lizabeth wasn't steady on her feet but managed to shuffle down the hallway to the living area. There was no protesting kitten; Kitty was asleep on the couch. She went to the kitchen and discovered a dessert plate lying on the floor. In a drunken stupor, she must have used it to feed the cat and not the pink cat bowl that she dutifully washed after each use. She opened the dishwasher and saw the kitten's bowl inside.

Lizabeth stopped to give the kitten a few scratches, but Kitty remained sound asleep despite Lizabeth's ministrations. I must have fed you enough that you're not hungry this morning. Her thoughts turned towards getting to work. First, she needed a shower; then she would figure out how to get there. She also hoped that the hot water would help soothe the pounding in her head, which it did. She couldn't fathom the idea of breakfast but was thirsty. Lizabeth knew she had some seltzer water in the refrigerator, which might settle her stomach.

When she stumbled down the hallway into the living area, a man was sitting on her couch. She screamed and had to put a hand out to steady herself against the wall as her headache erupted again.

"Lizabeth, it's me," William Darcy called as he threw out one arm, it had a phone in it. His other hand held a large paper cup of coffee.

"What are you doing here!" she cried. Her hand still attempted to find some support from the wall. She moved forward a few feet to lean on the kitchen counter for support.

"I drove you home," he said. The kitten was curled beside him.

"Why are you still here? And why didn't I see you earlier when I checked on the cat?" she exclaimed. Her heart beat thunderously, and the pulse made her squint because of the pain.

"You asked me to stay because of the cat." He looked at the kitten. Only the barest hint of breath could be discerned. "I went out for coffee since you were still sleeping." He held up the coffee cup as evidence. "Got you some too. You don't have a coffee maker."

She brought a hand up to shield her eyes; the light added to the pain. She pinched and massaged her temples with her thumb and ring finger. That helped a little. "I don't remember you coming inside. I think I remember you driving me home," she conceded.

"You felt sick for most of the ride home. I figured I would just drop you off, but you were wobbly in those heels, so I had to help you up the stairs. Then you fell asleep on the couch while I fed your cat. Then I helped you to bed."

"I don't remember any of that." Lizabeth shuddered in alarm that someone had been in her apartment and that she couldn't recall anything.

"You took off your shoes and flung them off rather haphazardly. There's one right there," he said. She looked down at the lone heel near her foot.

"You stayed? Did you sleep on the couch?" she asked.

"No, I discovered your spare room," he answered. William relaxed and leaned back into the couch cushions.

"Oh," she replied. "I guess I have to thank you even if I don't remember?"

"It's okay if you're a little freaked out, but I got you coffee, it's on the table," he pointed towards the dining table.

"Thanks. I usually make coffee at work," she remarked as she moved to retrieve the cup. It felt good to merely hold it, but she also took a sip. The coffee was perfect. Lizabeth took another sip. She turned to look at William; they were sitting about as far apart in her living space as they could.

"Did I really ask you to stay?" she asked.

"Yes," he seemed confused by the question as though his presence shouldn't be questioned, but she wasn't the best at reading body language.

Lizabeth was troubled with having a man in her apartment (not ever having had one before who had stayed). She was surprised and confused and attracted. He looked handsome for someone who had just gotten out of bed, and he couldn't have been up that much longer. She wondered what it would be like to wake up next to someone in bed. That thought set her pulse racing in her veins and made her head pound more.

"The coffee helps," she remarked, attempting to distract herself from her current thoughts.

William said, "I'm glad, are you ready to go?"

"I sort of forgot why I came into the front room," Lizabeth answered.

"Keys, shoes, breakfast?" he listed off the obvious. "Have you brushed your teeth, finished all the things you need to do in the bathroom?"

"I guess I need to make one last circuit, don't I?" She was fuzzy-brained.

"I took care of the cat," he said.

"I guess that's why she's content." They turned to look at the sleeping kitten. "I keep meaning to ask the Judge if I can bring her to work, so she doesn't go crazy and keep pouncing on me when I get home."

"Let me know when you need to leave." William went back to his phone. Lizabeth thought her head better for the coffee, but left the cup on the kitchen counter as she did a sweep of the house. She didn't find anything left undone but did one last check in the bathroom mirror.

She looked blurry-eyed with circles under her eyes. While she had never been one for make-up, she thought a little concealer was in order. Once she got home that night, she could get straight into her jammies. But for now, she had to face a long day of work with a hangover.

"I'm ready," she told her companion of the morning. He really did look remarkably put together. She assumed he had slept in his clothes. Maybe he was comfortable enough to sleep naked but then felt her cheeks heat as she considered that image. "Sorry, I don't have a toothbrush to loan you," she said.

"Got one when I got coffee," he replied.

"Oh," she gasped. Was that what you did after spending the night with someone? Run out to buy a toothbrush?

"I better get you to work in case there is an arrogant guy at the door waiting to be let in," was his next comment.

"I think you're the only one who's ever yelled at me for not being there on time," she remarked as she tied her shoes. Lizabeth picked up her coat.

"I still have your keys," he said and rattled them in his fist.

"Thanks, can I just say this is a little weird?"

"Yeah, let's just get going," he barked. "I have my own agenda today." They got outside, and Lizabeth turned a little too quickly and felt pain flash in her head.

William put a hand out to steady her. "Careful." He locked the front door.

She made it down the stairs only to notice his car parked in her covered space. "You parked in my spot!" Suddenly incensed with him, the morning, and the entire change to her routine.

"It's not like you were going to drive back last night," he remarked. He seemed distant.

Lizabeth went from affronted to deflated in the space of a few seconds. He seemed gruff now; perhaps he did have things to do. She supposed that he hadn't had a shower yet and probably wasn't hungover and was ready to eat—though she was not. Lizabeth cradled the cup of coffee which she had retrieved from the kitchen counter as they drove in silence to the city center.

"Is that guy going to be waiting for you?" William asked at last.

"Doug? He's always there. He claims he has an office, but I don't think he does."

"Okay, if I just drop you off?" he asked when they were a few blocks away.

"Yeah, that's fine," she answered. She was lost in her head, thinking about the newness of this encounter.

Lizabeth couldn't help having an almost out-of-body experience as she considered that this man had spent the night, though not in the way that most people consider. But there had been a man in her apartment. He had been there when she had showered. If she had turned right when she was wrapped in the towel, William would probably have just been coming back from fetching coffee. Lizabeth would have seen him; he would have seen her. She couldn't help thinking that she was immature for such thoughts. But it was all new; she was still figuring life out.

Lizabeth had days on end when the same things happened over and over and over. And yet there could be a day like this. Friends did this all the time, spent the night at someone's house, then drove into work together, even if they weren't lovers, even if they'd stayed at a girlfriends' home (she didn't have much experience of that sort of thing either). Her mother had controlled her friends so much—Lizabeth never got to go to sleepovers.

But she supposed if you lived with somebody and you worked near each other, there might be days that you drove into work together. What if you worked at the same company? Would you share a car ride? Particularly if you lived in a place with those diamond lanes? What would it be like?

The car slowed. "Hey, there are two people waiting for you," William remarked, glancing at the recording office door as he pulled in front. It wasn't a red zone, but the meters didn't allow for long-term parking, which made it an unpopular parking option.

"It's Doug…and…Ed," Lizabeth said, gulping as she looked at the two figures standing by the front door.

"Ed, your ex, Ed?" he asked.

"I don't want to speak to him." All of Lizabeth's happy little relationship thoughts and speculations crashed down into her stomach to twist and turn and ferment as she looked at Edgar Stone, who hadn't noticed her in William's car.

"Do you want me to park and walk you in?" William asked.

"That would make it worse. I'll get out," she opened the car door.

"Liza, Liza, Liza, you're late!" Doug quipped, in an over-the-top fake British accent.

"Sorry, Doug, I was out late last night," she apologized.

Ed turned. He'd been peering through the office doors as though she might come in through the back door. "Beth!" he was instantly angry.

"Oh!" Doug's face went from cheerful jokester to somber as Lizabeth looked at the two of them. She had mentioned her boyfriend, but Doug and Edgar had never met.

"I've been waiting for you. I got here early, so we could talk. It's important that we talk!" Then Edgar saw the car and that there was a strange man behind the wheel. "Who's that?" His voice grew sharper.

"That's my friend, William. He drove me here because I left my car at the bar last night," she explained carefully.

"What! Did he come home with you? Spend the night?" Ed spit out.

"That's none of your concern!" she countered.

"You've not replied to any of my texts. We have things to talk about," his voice rose.

"Ed, I need to go to work. Now is not the time!" Lizabeth tried to be clear. Edgar stepped forward and reached out an arm as if to grab her, but she stepped clear.

"Hey!" said Doug. "Leave her alone, man." A car door opened, and William joined them.

"Ed, I have nothing to say to you. That's why I've not replied to you. It's over between us!" Lizabeth couldn't help shouting.

"No, it's not," Edgar argued. "I want to marry you. It can't be over."

"It is. I never wanted to marry you!" Lizabeth was trying very hard to remain in control and not to cry. She needed to go to work; it would provide structure. But her headache came crashing back. "I want nothing more to do with you."

"I'm not letting you go," said Ed. "I am not over you."

"I don't know what to say," she began. "It's done between us. I had a nice chat with people at the hotel bar, and I found out what you do during the week. You've been seeing other women while you've been dating me. Would you continue to do that after we married? I don't know what to think, Ed." Her voice broke. "But I know for sure that I don't want to marry you. I NEVER wanted to marry you. I just thought we were dating." She tried to move past him, but he swerved suddenly and grabbed her arms. The coffee cup in her hands dropped to the ground, the lid popped off, and its contents spilled out.

William was there then. "Let her go," he declared. When Ed didn't do it, he repeated, "let her go."

"You're mine!" Ed said, ignoring William, his hands moved to Lizabeth's shoulders to shake her.

"I'll say it one more time: let her go." William came to Lizabeth's side, staring down at Edgar. He probably had four inches on him.

Doug came up on the other side, "step back, man."

"Fuckers," Edgar growled. His hands fell to his side. "I won't forget."

"It's over, Ed," Lizabeth declared. "Don't call me anymore or text me, ever again." She stepped back, moving closer to William, who put a tentative hand on her arm.

"Fuck," Ed muttered; he moved to leave.

"You okay, Lizabeth?" said Doug. "Was that really your boyfriend?"

"My ex-boyfriend," she said as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," said Doug.

"Sorry, too," said William. "But, I'm glad I stayed the night and drove you to work."

"I'm glad I'm such a screw-up and am always here in the morning," Doug remarked. There was silence. "Come on, isn't anyone going to laugh?"

"I better open the doors," said Lizabeth, wiping her tears. "It's going to be a long day."

"How about I get you more coffee, or are you ready to eat now?" William asked.

"Something simple, like a bagel with nothing on it," she answered, still wiping at her eyes.

"Look, I know where to go. I'll run to the café and get poor Liza here something," Doug offered.

She fumbled in her purse for her keys. "My god, I can't find my keys!" she wailed.

"I have them, remember? I locked the front door," William placated.

She turned to catch his eye. "I'm a mess, but I think I've hit rock bottom, so it can only get better, right?" she said as she plastered a Cheshire Cat grin on her face.

"Right, it can only get better," he repeated. William handed her the keys and said good-bye. She unlocked the door.

She usually dreaded Fridays and now had more reason to be concerned with her headache and this drama with Edgar. She would be in luck as there weren't too many forgetful people swinging by to conduct business at the recording office that day.

Doug showed up with coffee and a toasted bagel. "I had them put a little butter on it," he explained, which she thought she could stomach.


A/N: we all need people like Doug in our lives.

On another note, the governor has closed down the entire state of California. I find, however, that I don't feel creative so I am not writing, right now. That next fanfict just sits there as I stare at it. I am sewing, color is cheerful and inspiring.