NOTES: Lizzy's POV. Next pr'bly will be too. Normal length. Meeting Mrs Bennet, and learning the truth behind the voicemail. Will post again very soon :) stay safe, y'all

Lizzy stood on the sidewalk, facing a once-familiar house, and feeling like a stranger. Dandelions littered the yard. Grass pulp congregated at the edges of the driveway. A rotten plank and two ropes (that had once composed a swing) hung limp from the solitary oak tree. The bricks of the house were mothball-gray.

She could count on one hand the times she had visited this house, after she moved out. She didn't remember how many years it had been.

Very little had changed.

Well. That wasn't EXACTLY true, Lizzy conceded, frowning.

She kicked over a lawn gnome. Its jolly little face grinned up at her, its nose smashed into an ant pile. The other gnomes, 30 or so of them, scattered about the yard in groups of two or three, all seemed to watch her after that. Their painted-on eyes followed Lizzy as she gathered her breath, assembled what courage she could find, walked to the door, and knocked.

Nothing. She knocked again, banging on the flimsy screen door. It took a few minutes of this before someone answered.

"Alright ALRIGHT," the unmistakable whine of her mother sounded from inside, "I'm COMING! Hold the… horses… Ugh, Lord, it's early…"

The screen door opened to reveal a bent over woman in a bathrobe. Her hair— blonde, refusing to go gray by way of pure determination— was tangled around several curlers. Her face showed minimal signs of aging, less so when she wore makeup (which she always did).

She was the same height as Lizzy, but had slouched so much in her life, that she had to squint up through the rising sun to get a good look at her early-morning visitor.

"Elizabeth?" She asked, "What are you doing here?"

Lizzy forced herself to stand up straight. "Jane showed me your voicemail. I came to—"

"Oh JANE!" Mrs Bennet cried, leaping into action to peer around Lizzy. "Is she with you? I just knew she'd come home, she was always such a good girl, and did you hear about that MAN of her's? I always KNEW she would be—"

"Mom." Lizzy gently held her by the shoulders, half afraid she would bolt. "Jane's in New York. Not here. She just asked me to come down and check on Dad."

"Oh." The older woman wilted a little, then shook herself off. "Then, um, come in! I guess."

Lizzy stepped inside, locking the door as Mrs Bennet bustled towards the kitchen.

"He's not up yet, but in the meantime, would you like some breakfast? I learned on (what was it called?) Instabook how to make a MEAN omelette, and your father always likes when I cook for him—"

"Sounds great, mom!" Lizzy cut in. "Should I make the coffee?"

That simple question (of course) launched Mrs Bennet into a rant about how NICE it was that Lizzy had found her talent doing something USEFUL like taking her father's old job at Longbourn.

Lizzy had heard the rant a thousand times. She tuned it out as she poured the coffee grounds.

"Oh, uh, before I forget, Mom," she called over her shoulder, grasping for some form of stimulating conversation, "What's with the gnomes?"

Mrs Bennet paused in her bustling, and smiled sweetly at her least favorite daughter. "Well. You know sentimental how us empty-nesters get—"

"I thought Lydia moved back here."

"She did. And it was SUCH a sweet thing to do! Of course, we don't make her pay rent, she has it hard enough as it is, what with trying to get into Hollywood and whatnot. Anyway. Katie's working with that New Anchor on channel 6, and Jane's in New York, and MARY thought we weren't exciting enough and decided to run away to Belgium with her new wife—"

"Mom," Lizzy interrupted. "He goes by MARCUS now, remember?. And he went to Belgium to study architecture. It's hardly running away."

"Oh, right," Mrs Bennet sniffed. "Well, AS I WAS SAYING, all our children (save Lydia, the dear) are moved out, and well… I needed something to nurture."

"So you chose.. gnomes."

Mrs Bennet put down the pan she was holding, and sighed. "You know, when you raise your eyebrows like that, you look just like your father. Exactly the same."

"Thanks, mom," Lizzy said, cautiously smiling.

She spoke too soon.

"Damn ugly expression," Mrs Bennet sniffed. Lizzy's smile withered and died on her lips. "You know, he's been making that a lot at me recently! Especially when I talk about the surgery and what a blessing it is, and whatnot—"

"WAIT, MOM." Lizzy grabbed her mother's shoulders (the only sure way of getting her attention) and looked into her eyes. "Dad's getting surgery?"

"Oh yes! Didn't I tell you?"

"NO, you didn't."

"Oh. Well." Mrs Bennet stepped away from her and gestured at a stack of papers strewn about the counter. "All the information about what happened's over there. Lord knows I don't have the time to explain it to you."

Like a drowning woman grasping for a life raft, Lizzy set upon the papers, scrabbling through them to find any information she could.

One, as she found, summed it up rather nicely.

'To the Bennet family, of 212 Hertfordshire Drive.

We were extremely sorry to hear about Mr. Thomas Bennet's unfortunate reaction to the prescribed chemotherapy medication. Cabometyx allergies are extremely rare, and therefore, our Health and Safety branch did not properly label the medication to inform our clients about the possibility of allergic reactions. We were shocked and appalled to hear of Mr. Thomas Bennet's unplanned hospital visit. We have since fixed the issue, but wanted to make it up to your family, in exchange for the promise of not legal action taken against our company.

The Merryton General Hospital has graciously offered to plan a partial hepatectomy (removing 65% of the patient's liver) for the last Friday of this month. Attached are all the information about recovery periods and survival rates— with luck, Mr. Thomas Bennet will no longer suffer from liver cancer after the operation, or at least gain 3 - 10 years of life. There is a slight chance the liver will not regenerate, as more than one lobe will be removed; in case of this, there will be a transplant ordered, with full medical benefits paid by our company.

We are very sorry for the issue, and wish you a speedy recovery.

Sincerely,

American Family Insurance (founded 1927, "Insure Carefully, Dream Fearlessly")'

"So," Lizzy said, putting down the paper, "Dad had an allergic reaction to the new meds?"

"Yes, that's right," Mrs Bennet answered.

"And…" She resisted the urge to massage her temples. "You didn't think to call?"

"Oh, no, we thought to call," her mother chirped, "but by the time fever, hives, and chest pain went away, we were already in the hospital and it was all alright. Besides, look! They're paying for the surgery we've needed!"

"Yes," Lizzy ground out, "Because their medicine almost killed Dad!"

"What almost killed Dad?" A deep, rusted voice asked from the hallway. A gaunt man stepped out, wearing a sleeveless undershirt and a weary half-smile. "Oh, hello Lizzy. Are you here to say your last goodbyes?"

He raised his arms up nearly past his hunched shoulders. "As you can see, sweetie, I am about to die."