Author's Note: I broke this chapter up into two parts, because well, it was just too damn long. So, don't be confused by the opening scene – it'll all be explained in the next update.

Enjoy

Fitzwilliam, It was Really Nothing

Part One

She brought a hand to her lips and tried her very best not to cry.

This unfortunate event was just another prime example of her impeccably shit luck when it came to the opposite sex. Since about the age of fourteen, Lizzie had unwittingly amassed an impressive list of loser boyfriends, perverts, and emotional fuckwits; piles of stunted growth who had managed by the grace of god to dodge the clutches of natural selection (see: Archie the Thief, Danny the Meth Lab Technician, and Nate the Drummer).

Unfortunately, her list of 'good ones' that got away' was equally as long (depressingly so) and growing longer by the second.

If only she had spent that night at home instead of agreeing to go clubbing with Charlotte…

If only she hadn't had that fifth tequila sunrise on a virtually empty stomach…

If only she hadn't met Will Darcy and made an even bigger mess of her life…

Lizzie let out a tiny sigh and continued to finger her lips as he gazed at her with a devilishly handsome smile on his face. "What are you thinking about, Lizzie?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper, and leaned in close to her once again,

If only Daniel Wickham hadn't been such an excellent kisser.

One Month Previous

It is a truth universally acknowledged that customer service workers lose any drop of humanity they might have possessed within the first six months of their employment. This is due to the fact that the general public is almost entirely comprised of wankers and waiting on them hand-and-foot is enough to bring anyone's inner demon to the surface.

However, due to the need for a paycheck, these lowly workers are forced to direct their need to torture mankind at each other:

"Jesus, don't tell me you need me to repeat this; it's incredibly simple."

There was a flash of terror across his features, but only briefly, and Daniel glanced over his shoulder at the sound of snickers from the large group of his coworkers that had gathered in the kitchen doorway to watch the carnage unfold.

One of the hostesses, Navi, was busy handing out snacks to the crowd, while, Calvin – another server, loudly exclaimed he had twenty bucks riding on 'the Newbie falling flat on his ass with this one', and Charlotte tried her best to look supportive and crossed herself.

Clearly, he was in over his head.

There was a huff, "I don't think you're even paying attention to me."

Another glance at the crowd, this time his eyes fell on Lizzie – his designated sensei. She caught his look and gave a mock (but encouraging) bow.

Daniel took a deep breath and flashed the customer a perfect set of teeth. "You wanted the Southwestern combination: a second burrito in place of the fajita. Ranchero sauce on the side, easy refried bean, no rice. The nachos you wanted no tomatoes, green onions, sour cream, or beans – just meat and white cheese, sauce and guacamole on the side. You also wanted the loaded baked potato, but without sour cream, bacon, chives, butter, salt and pepper, and the house salad with the vinaigrette on the side." He paused. "Did I miss anything?"

Her squinty eyes narrowing, the woman adjusted her glasses and casually took a sip of her water (with just a hint of lime) before saying, "No, I believe that's everything."

A mixture of cheers and groans erupted from the kitchen area as Daniel returned triumphantly with the order in hand.

"This'll teach you to doubt the power of my tutelage," Lizzie said extending a hand in Calvin's direction.

Calvin let out a snort and slammed a crumpled twenty into her waiting mitts. "Whatever, the Nazi was obviously not herself today." He shook his head, dark hair falling over his eyes. "And you're gonna take my last twenty bucks? Way to be cruel, Lizzie."

Grinning, Lizzie wasted no time pocketing the cash. "This'll also teach you about the consequences of gambling."

"Don't I get a share in that," Daniel interjected, "after all, it was me who was tossed to the wolves back there."

Lizzie 'tsked'. "Sorry, but all the dole from the Noob training goes straight into the sensei's pocket. This is a hard and fast TGI Friday's rule."

"Is that right?" he laughed as he scooped up a drink tray. "And you can't make any exceptions?"

Lizzie could feel a blush creeping up in her cheeks; good lord was that man ever gorgeous! Daniel was tall (though not quite the skyscraper height of Darcy) and, his clingy Friday's uniform hinted at an unbelievably muscular figure underneath. He had perfectly coiffed blonde hair and light green eyes that sparkled when he smiled. The added bonus of being good humored and charming made Daniel Wickham All-American, teen dream puppy love personified; and Lizzie was finding herself to be not immune to the need to appreciate his fine qualities.

Wickham flashed a smile that woke up every vagina within a fifty mile radius,

"Maybe you could cut this Noob a little slack," he said absently arranging glasses on his tray, "just, you know, for the sake of a job well done."

And Lizzie's eyelashes batted completely of their own volition,

"What makes you so special, Mr. Wickham?" she asked teasingly.

"Nothing," Calvin snorted on his way out of the kitchen.

"Build a bridge and get over it, Calvin," Lizzie shot back at his retreating form.

Daniel chuckled, "Hey, I survived the Nazi on the first go round that's gotta earn me at least a cup of coffee with my wonderful sensei."

"Someone obviously doesn't subscribe to US Weekly," Navi remarked off-handedly as she breezed past the pair and Daniel raised a brow.

Embarrassed, Lizzie covered her face with her hands. "Thanks ever-so, Navi," she told the teen sarcastically.

Navi shrugged and loudly popped her chewing gum. "You managed to snag Fitzwilliam Darcy and still come to work at this shithole every day? You were dropped on your head as a baby, weren't you?"

The very second the Darcy name was uttered, Daniel's eyes widened considerably. "Fitzwilliam Darcy: the Darcy Broadcasting heir?" he asked, head curiously cocking to the side.

Lizzie smiled grimly. "I just call him 'Sweetie-Pie'."

He stared at her in silence before finally giving a curt, "Good luck with that," and suddenly became engrossed in making sure his drink tray was perfectly arranged.

"Wow, did it just get chilly in here," she chuckled humorlessly. "Guess you're not a big fan of ridiculously wealthy types."

"Oh, I've got no problem with ridiculous wealth – the more ridiculous, the better, I always say." He nodded. "It's…"

"Sweetie-Pie?" Lizzie offered flatly.

That got a shrug. "Hey, I'm not one to go around bashing other people's boyfriends, so if you're happy with Will, I wish you the best of luck." Daniel smiled thinly and headed for the double doors with Lizzie fast on his heels.

"Wait a minute, Danny!" she called after him. "Do you know Darcy?"

Wickham stopped in his tracks and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a thoroughly amused Calvin.

"Hey, Lizzie, you've got a group that requested to sit in your section." Smirking, Calvin gestured towards the booth where Charles Bingley and his shrew sisters stuck out like sore, diamond encrusted, thumbs. "Man, do I love karma."

"Have a hap-hap-happy birthday…!"

"…yes, a hap-hap-happy birthday…!"

"Have a hap-hap-happy birthday from the TGI Friday's Crew!"

Caroline Bingley smiled from ear to ear. Her lips curled behind her pearly, white teeth and her eyes gleamed.

She was immensely happy, so happy, in fact she almost wished it actually were her birthday (which was not for another six months and thirty was absolutely nothing to celebrate, thank you). For this would most certainly have been the greatest gift she had ever received; it toppled the hot, pink Barbie Power Wheels she was gifted with at age six, and sent the pony her father got her at ten straight to the glue factory.

Caroline took a moment to glance up at Lizzie Bennett and let the sheer ridiculousness of the girl's garish red-and-white striped uniform (oh, suspenders and buttons!) sink into her subconscious.

The memory was guaranteed to keep Caroline warm at night.

"Encore! Encore!" Caroline clapped wildly.

Charlie put a hand to his head probably in hopes he would disappear. "That's enough," he told her sternly.

Their sister, Louisa, who normally had no trouble inhaling her dinner, disinterestedly pushed her loaded baked potato around her plate with her fork while her husband looked over the drink menu.

A pseudo-friendly smile unfolding across her face, Caroline took a sip of her Diet Coke. "What a quaint, little restaurant you work at, Elizabeth." Turning to Louisa, she added, "I can't believe we never thought of coming here until today. It's so…festive."

With a brief (but apologetic) look in Lizzie's direction, Charlie shifted and pulled a folder from underneath his seat. "I'm really sorry about this, Lizzie. I intended to come here alone to give you this, but Caroline and Louisa insisted they were interested in trying out the food. I had no idea…"

Lizzie raised a hand to silence him. "It's cool, Charlie," she told him reassuringly as she took the folder out of his hands. "My, my, this is very Russian spy of you."

He laughed. "It's just, um, some um, environmental cases I thought your, um, sister would be interested in."

Lizzie nodded and smiled genuinely; from the rather large number of 'ums' Charlie managed to squeeze into that one sentence, she suspected the folder's contents might be of more interest to her than to Jane. "I'll make sure she gets it."

"Liz," Caroline said her name in the most annoyingly haughty tone, "be a doll and refill my drink."

"Of course," Lizzie replied just as patronizingly, reaching over to grab the glass. "Oh, where are my manners, I almost forgot to personally wish you a happy birthday, Caro…"

The blonde leered. "Thanks."

Turning sharply on her heels, Lizzie added over her shoulder, "You truly don't look a day over forty" and relished the look on Caroline's face.

That look would keep Lizzie warm at night.

When Jane's hands made it to Jane's hips, she knew she was in big trouble. Admittedly, the wrath of Jane was about as frightening as a gang of kittens who farted rainbows and shot sunbeams and snikerdoodles out of their eyes, but with a mere tilt of her head (and those hands on those hips) Jane could make Lizzie feel as if she were a four year old who'd just been caught taking the heads off of her big sister's Barbie's.

"Don't you think you should take this a little seriously," Jane huffed and her sister threw up her hands in defeat.

"I'm taking it seriously. I'm serious, Janie." Lizzie nodded sternly – a sign that she was ready to get back to being an adult. Unfortunately she made mistake of glancing down at the contents of Charlie's folder lying on the coffee table before her and the corners of her lips twisted up in amusement.

Lizzie snorted and Jane swore.

"Jesus Christ…"

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "But, Janie you're insane if you don't see the ridiculousness in all of this."

"There are elements of the ridiculous, but…"

Lizzie shot her a look. "Elements?! Darcy wants me to go with him to New Hampshire to meet his sister and he doesn't have the decency to come by or hell, even call and say 'Lizzie, you should really meet my highly accomplished, prep-school going, Smarty McBigbrain sister before you and I rape the sanctity of marriage with our sham'. Instead, he sends poor Charlie by with a plane ticket and the Will Darcy press kit!"

Jane blinked. "Remember to breathe, Lizzie."

"I mean, for fuck's sake, Jane, you'd think the guy would actually want me to get to know him the good old fashioned way!" Shaking her head she snatched up the papers. "'Darcy likes birthday cake-flavored ice cream, cooking, heavy metal, and takes his coffee black with five sugars.' If we're pretending to be a couple shouldn't we spend some amount of time together and actually learn these things through – oh, I dunno, interaction!"

"This is his sister you're meeting," Jane calmly reminded her. "The only family Darcy has according to Charlie and they're closer than close. She's already under the impression that this is a serious relationship, so if you can't tell her how he takes his coffee in the morning, she's gonna know something's up."

Tossing the papers back onto the coffee table, Lizzie sunk into the cushions of the couch with a heavy sigh. "This is a bad idea. This whole deal reeks of badness. I don't need Fitzwilliam Darcy or his contract. I can raise this baby on my own."

Jane plopped down beside her and rested her head on Lizzie's shoulder. "You may not need him, but you signed your name on the dotted line."

"Dammit."