Author's Note: This is a fan fic about Pride and Prejudice as I am a huge fan of Jane Austen's work, particularly the inner working relationship between Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. This piece is a modern P&P piece that is taken out of context only so that it may be adapted to the modern times. Due to that fact, there is some cursing in it and etc. I hope, though, that many enjoy the take I took on the P&P story. There is a slight manipulation with the characters, with only one real notable change from the novel. Jane, in this story, is later Elizabeth's best friend rather than her sister. The first chapter focuses on how they met. I only have a few chapters written so far but working on it. I will also note that I write Elizabeth Bennet in the first person point of view and when I switch to Darcy, I write in third. I suppose I do this because I like the mysterious air that Austen lends to his character. Elizabeth is like an open book, but he is mysterious. By switching point of views, I feel it keeps him somewhat more mysterious. One can tell immediately that I am also a huge fan of satire and humor. Please be kind and please let me know what you think. I look forward to reading anything that anyone might have to say. All opinions count. I have so enjoyed writing this and definitely want feedback. And I thank all of you ahead of time who do read. Well wishes to you all.—licensetowrite

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"Savages!" A woman hollered—the scream tearing vehemently throughout the area as if it were an arrow aiming for a target, and I almost ducked with the sharpness of the tone—peering curiously over the edge of my cubicle along with the twenty something other people that worked in this particular space. That's the thing with close quarters—no privacy. Better yet, no anything.

"Damn lot of freakin' savages! All of you!" The bellowing continued as the person in question stormed suddenly out of the main office towards the door at the entrance. I should sit down. Really I should. Give the woman her privacy as she marched, head held up high, towards the continuous monotony of the business driven world down below in the streets. It makes being self-sufficient even more…well…excruciating. It's like opening up a jug of milk in your refrigerator, realizing it tastes as bad as it smells before glancing at the expiration date, and then dumping the entire contents down your kitchen sink while murmuring what a waste it was letting it curdle. And it was a waste—losing yet another employee in a period of two months. I let my gaze follow her as she sashayed across the floor—her stance capturing my attention even as I tried to ignore it. She had an air about her that demanded attention. I should really really learn to mind my own business.

She stopped suddenly—walking over to the space that had probably once been her tiny, insignificant locale, her little area of the world before she had turned away from it so callously, as if she had no reason to care. How I envied that carefree sense of abandonment! I couldn't do it—couldn't keep walking away as if my job were nothing more than an irritating pebble in my shoe that could quickly be shaken out and replaced with comfort. No, I had this little thing called 'bills,' a family that depended on my paycheck, and a landlord who had a tendency to phone if you were even five minutes late on the rent. And trust me; I shudder when I say that he even liked to present himself for personal visits. I'd pay a friggin' fortune to avoid those inopportune moments wasted watching him pick his teeth and perusing my belongings. Again, I shudder. I'm utterly convinced that the pot-bellied man either had every phone and place within the complex where I lived bugged or an on-going relationship with a really good psychic. To me, tea leaves looked the same no matter how many times you looked at the wet mess. Point being, they looked like tea leaves. And if Tarot cards could be believed, then I'd have already committed suicide.

"Here!" the woman proclaimed as she lifted something off of her desk and threw it onto mine unceremoniously. I grabbed for it before it landed—looking up into the fiery, brown eyes of an angry young female as she leaned over my head menacingly. It was then that I realized, pathetically, that despite the fact that we had worked beside each other for almost a year, I had no idea what her name was. Therefore, I just glanced around warily before smiling tightly at the object now resting in my hand. It was a tree…I think.

"Should I smoke it?" I asked carefully as I twisted it around in my hands. I mean, seriously, it sure as hell didn't look like a normal plant to me. Something this ugly had to have some kind of medicinal purpose. Right? The lady just laughed—bitterly.

"It's a bonsai. I call it 'Ono' and all you have to do is water it sporadically. Nothing to the damn thing really." She muttered before throwing a narrowed look over her shoulder at the robust man that came suddenly out of his bureaucratic headquarters —slowly and with deliberation only to lean casually against his open office door with arms crossed authoritatively across his chest. He need only pound his torso a few times and say 'Me Tarzan, you Jane' and the rest of us would feel right at home. No, wait! Godzilla was a much better description.

"Uh huh…" I murmured uncomfortably towards the woman as I eyed the browning limbs of the plant skeptically. So, she had conversations with vegetation? I backed away from her slightly as I kept eyeing the…whatever it was. And come to think of it, I guess the thing really did sort of resemble a bonsai…sort of. The Big Man, otherwise known as the guy who signed my paychecks, started tapping his foot impatiently as I set the plant down gingerly. I couldn't help it. The question just slipped.

"Ono as in 'oh no'?" I asked curiously as the woman shrugged. She looked bored as she perused a small chip on one of her fingernails before glancing briefly down at me and then at the man at the back of the office. She was really enjoying irritating her former boss. She shrugged again.

"Actually, if we're being technical, it's Ono number five. Its siblings died very quick, painful deaths. Who the hell knew a bonsai would be that difficult to keep alive?" She answered honestly before throwing the Big Man a very elaborate and distinctive view of her middle finger. That should have bothered me, but I was too busy contemplating how the hell you killed a bonsai. And not just one, since this particular foliage was obviously not on a road to recovery, but four before it? We're not talking green thumbs here. We're talking the hands of death. I actually even laughed a little.

"Maybe you should try a cactus." I supplied helpfully as the Big Man stepped away from his door before moving pointedly in our general direction. Oh shit! I slid down in my seat as the 'unnamed one' placed a relaxed elbow on the ledge of my office space before smiling whimsically. Now was not a good time for her to pretend we knew each other. Come on!

"You have to the count of three Miss Houston to grab the rest of your things and get the hell out of this building!" Mr. Big Man roared as I squinted my eyes up at him with uncertainty in reply to his sudden critical perusal of my person. A year of being completely overlooked and I was suddenly inheriting both inquisitive stares and a dying tree. Yeah, I had no desire to have anyone read my palm right now. Hell, a crystal ball would probably turn black in my presence. I needed to disappear—fall through the floor with or without ceremony. Where was David Copperfield when you needed him, huh? Hell, freakin' Houdini would work if he wasn't dead. The woman smiled. Office rule number one: smiles were never good in these particular situations.

"I was just telling my good friend here to watch her ass and to feed my plant, you son of a bi…" Miss Houston reiterated while I let the rest of the sentence sort of fade into the background as I stared at her incredulously. Excuse me? Her what? Uh uh, no way! I had enough monetary dependency on commercialism to fight that statement with broad insistence—almost like one of those pastors on television who claimed they could heal with the simple touch of their hands against your forehead. There's no telling how many nights I have actually spent in my youth along with my sisters listening to our mother shout 'amen' at the evangelists while I looked on with wide eyes and fervent expectation. Right now, a good 'Praise be, you are healed!' would be so much better than the infinite awkwardness I now found myself embroiled in. The Big Man looked at me.

"You know her, Miss Bennet?" He asked insistently as I smiled sheepishly before opening my mouth to argue. There may be pot holes in the road of life, but I had this little finicky habit of steering myself around large disturbances in the force. This called for steerage.

"I…" I began as Miss 'I'm determined to screw with your perfectly sane life' Houston leaned over to begin fiddling with objects on my desk as if she had known they had always been there—as if she had a right to pretend my rubic's cube was something she had spent months trying to decipher. And with a few quick twists of the object…she completely ruined three months of 'my' hard work. Can anyone say 'shrink?'

"Oh, Miss…Bennet and I here have known each other for years, haven't we sweetheart?" The woman interrupted as I just threw her a bewildered stare that could turn ice into a friggin' inferno. Arg…I was beginning to have an Apollo 13 moment as I gazed at her in derision. Ummmm…Houston, we have a problem here!

"Really?" The Big Man asked as I shook my head frantically—choking on a sudden breath as the 'maniacal one' patted me sympathetically on the back. Was she crazy? Okay, so we've pretty much established that was the case, right?

"She's shy in public." Miss Houston remarked with a small shrug as I placed both of my palms firmly against the top of my desk in an attempt to keep my temper in check. Why, the little…!"

"Then maybe she can help you find the closest exit without anymore stops along the way. We don't allow sightseeing during business hours." The Big Man stated sourly as I stood up quickly—knocking my desk chair over in the process due to my new frenzied state. I was not in the mood to argue. Nope…now was the perfect time to practice immediate obedience and if that meant dragging Miss Houston out by the skin of her ear, then I was certainly more than willing. She just cocked her head to the side arrogantly as I marched around my desk hurriedly—grabbing her firmly by the meat of her upper arms before dragging her toward the door. She didn't fight me—marching instead so sullenly that the mood seemed suddenly to shift as quickly as the southern weather outside had a tendency to do. I could even hear the faint murmurings of 'dead woman walking' as I marched next to her, my short diminutive frame dwarfed by her taller, intimidating one. I shivered at her blank stare as we approached the elevators at the end of the hall. I fully intended to see her out of the building as quickly as possible. We moved into the space simultaneously. I was just about to punch the key labeled floor '1' as she leaned over and punched 'roof' instead. What the hell! Office rule number two: roofs never bode well following the termination of employment.

"Do you have psychological issues? Because if we're talking repressed memories or manic depression, I promise you there is an entire list of professional help in the yellow pages. I'll even tear them out for you." I offered as the heavy doors in front of us dinged open to reveal the windy air that characterized the roof tops above. It made for a perfect place to grab a cigarette or even just a little fresh air. It did not suit those no longer with a job. Houston didn't even glance at me as she breezed out of the enclosure before moving toward the ledge overlooking the city. An unsettling sensation began to swim around in the pit of my stomach. She wouldn't! Maybe asking her if she had psychological issues hadn't been such a swell idea.

"Better yet, I'm a great listener. Feel free to unload. I even guarantee a free-of-charge session." I stated frantically as she pulled off her high heels deliberately, one at a time, before climbing up onto the railing. Oh hell! Oh no! I began to edge around the roof carefully—approaching her slowly as I closed my eyes to keep from peering down. This was not the day for this! Was she planning to jump? Couldn't she have gone into the bathroom and drowned herself in the toilet instead. I did not like heights!

"Let's talk about this. It can't be all that bad, right?" I persuaded as I got near enough to her to notice she was leaning forward experimentally. What was this—change from 'I seem perfectly fine with my decision' to 'doesn't jumping off the roof of a high rise building sound good to me' day? A piece of gravel came loose and clattered down the side of the structure. Oh Jesus! Where the hell was my aunt Clarece and her rosary when I needed it? Now would be a great time to do all those Hail Mary's I kept promising I would do for my cursing problem. Even if, generally, I only tended to curse inside my head. The Lord still heard you, right? Miss Houston started crying…sobbing really…until she was practically hiccupping—losing her balance slightly as she screamed out into the air around us. I could see people looking up from the ground below us now—pointing their fingers upward as they reached for their cell phones. Oh dear God! Some of them actually began taking pictures. Remind me again whose idea it was to put cameras inside of cell phones. It's not like we didn't have enough problems with text messaging.

"I'm just so…so stupid." The woman cried out as I clenched my teeth together in an attempt to keep them from chattering. Stupid was a good description really. But telling her that…not so good.

"Okay, I think we all feel that way sometimes. No need to hang off the side of a building because of it." I replied with a small yelp as she let one of her hands go so that she was only holding on now with her right palm. Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Breathe dammit! Fainting now would not help matters! Police sirens in the distance made me want to sit down on the cement underneath the woman before grabbing my head between my hands and moaning in agony. And this was why my profession had nothing to do with law enforcement. Nope, I enjoyed mediocre anonymity. What the hell was I supposed to do?

"Think happy thoughts." I uttered helplessly without contemplation as the woman looked over at me in surprise—grabbing hold of the railing now with both hands as she caught wind of my comment.

"What?" She asked with feigned flippancy as I shrugged.

"It worked for that Peter Pan guy. He got the entire Darling family up in the air with thoughts of ice cream and cookies. Just come down, would you?" I begged as she turned away from me again, shaking her head at my philosophy before letting go with her right hand this time. It caused her to lean more precariously toward the ground, and I could hear as gasps from down below encompassed us with 'don't jump's' and 'get it over with already's.' I grabbed the railing so tightly my knuckles turned white.

"I can hug you. Yeah, that's it. Do you need a hug? A drink maybe?" I murmured as she laughed suddenly. Laughed? There were cops now below with bullhorns, people screaming, and an entire city slowing down its day to view this…umm…moment. Yet, despite this, she had the gall to laugh? I could only hope that someone among them had a degree in temporary insanity. She was still laughing as she shrugged before stepping back over the railing—moving along it a moment before suddenly dropping back down onto the safety of the roof.

"And here I thought you were rigid and dull." She remarked as I looked at her calm expression in shock. Excuse me? Was this a joke? I stared at her with a gaping mouth and wide, astonished eyes as she continued to saunter away, picking up the box she had let fall to the ground upon entering the roof earlier. And then she smiled. Yeah, smiled. How about that? To quote Cary Grant, 'Insanity couldn't possibly run in her family, it had to freakin' gallop!"

"What was that?" I asked her angrily—waving my hands in the air as she shrugged.

"That was performance at its best." She explained nonchalantly as I narrowed my eyes at her retreating back. Performace? This was a performance? Talk about improvisation!

"Remind me not to ask you what you do in your spare time." I remarked haughtily. Dammit! I was angry. Plain and simple. Performance or not, she had played havoc with my emotions.

"I don't guess you'd do me the honor of climbing back up onto that ledge so that I could push you over?" I asked sardonically as she stopped a moment as if actually considering the request while the door in front of us burst open to reveal two uniformed police officers. They looked so serious that I almost hated to burst their nice, adrenaline pumped bubble. As a matter of fact, I didn't have to.

"False alarm, fellows." Miss Houston replied cheerfully while I shrugged at the cops before following meekly behind her toward the stairs. Like Daisy in Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, some women just fed off dramatic attention. This was ridiculous! Houston stopped and turned toward me as the elevators opened upon following our descension to the bottom floor only to reveal my very irate boss screaming at the police gathered there. Something about doing their jobs and all that jazz.

"It has been a pleasure getting to know you, Miss Bennet. I go by the surname Janice…Jane really…whatever…the pleasure is entirely mine, I'm sure." She stated in a bright, friendly tone as our…excuse me…my boss descended on us furiously. Oh! How good could this be? I was even beginning to envy the roof. Jumping off didn't seem like a bad idea after all. Jane looked over at me cheekily before pulling something out of her purse and writing on it furiously. I was not in the mood for 'let's pass a note in the class' moment but here it was anyway. She shrugged.

"I heard you had a degree in teaching and journalism—that you come with high recommendations. And yet you put up with this?" She asked dramatically as she waved her arms in the air encompassing the area. She shrugged as I looked over at her in surprise. And she knew about me how?

"I worked in records although design is my specialty. That means I had access to everyone's lives at the tips of my fingers and I know a compatible soul when I see one. I teach drama myself. Or taught, if you want to be more accurate. We should hang out again sometime, Lizzie." She stated almost on a whisper surprising me with the use of my own surname as I stared up at her incredulously before glancing down at the sheet of paper. I should have known she taught drama. She also had a slight accent, although I couldn't place it.

"Think about it." Jane whispered just as the "Big Man" approached with a face so red I suddenly felt the need to run back into the building and pull the fire alarm.

"Damnation! I should fire you both." He yelled as I felt my blood run like ice through the series of veins in my body. Now I knew why the human vein was blue. I looked down at the paper as I felt my heart sink. I both glared and shrugged at the woman next to me.

"You are, as of today, the devil on my shoulder, Jane." I mumbled as I looked over my own shoulder at the building behind us. An editor there for a year—a year of my life down the drain and yet it supported my family—my father who couldn't work anymore because of his heart, my mother who wouldn't work if she could help it, and my three younger sisters who were still high school age with two of them having become a decidedly aggravating hand full since puberty. Maybe it was time for a change. Ugghhh, my mother didn't like change. It was evident my ears would soon be ringing if I did happen to lose my job. Jane just smiled. Sometimes I hated those who could see the humor in every situation. My boss just smiled suddenly along with Jane.

"I've changed my mind." He muttered as Jane and I both grew deathly still. "If you like drama that much then I will give you drama. And I've got just the assignment. If you think I'm bad just wait until you meet our European Correspondence, the man who runs the entire empire. You get to work for him. I'm sending you both to England." Mr. Big Man stated suddenly with such finesse that I cringed. The man overseas must be something else if he felt he was feeding us to the sharks. Jane, no longer a former employee, just smiled wider. Something told me that she wasn't easily fazed. Well, neither was I, and this could be just the move up that I was waiting for. I was damn good at my job.

"Off to the gallows!" Jane remarked in a bad rendition of an English accent with her arm outstretched in a mock sword fighting position. Or maybe her rendition of an accent was a really bad version of a 'real' accent. Should I be worried? I cringed.

"You first, Benedict Arnold." I complained as she laughed. Yes, laughed.