Well, this is it. Thanks for reading and responding!

"Is something the matter?" William asked, startling Lizzie out of her reverie.

"Oh, no, I'm all right." She looked up at him from her laptop screen. "Why, was I making a face?"

He nodded. "You seemed….disgusted."

"Nope. Just trying to figure out the phraseology in this sentence. 'Costumed performances, which utilize individually designated props for each portrayed person, provide a hyper-real identity that approaches the truth while never quite arriving at its essence.'"

He hesitated, then said, "It's a bit overwrought, isn't it?"

She raised her eyebrows. "That's rich, coming from you."

"I have never disparaged the use of simple brevity. The reader may forget how the sentence began before getting to the end of it."

"Fine, fine." She deleted the entire line and tried to decide how to start over.

"You're making that face again."

She gave him a highly exaggerated batting of her eyelashes. "Do you have a problem with my face?"

"Never. I was only wondering if something was bothering you other than your thesis write-up."

She had learned all too well, after months of denying her feelings, that it was better to take such questions seriously instead of brushing them off. "Huh. I didn't think so. I guess working on this report might being stirring up a few less-than-pleasant memories."

William gripped her hand. "I'm sorry your studies have to be associated with such personal things."

"Well, it's my own fault, isn't it? Basing my thesis project on a video blog about my own life and all that."

"Perhaps. But I'm sure I share at least an equal share of the blame."

"Nah. I just have to face the fact that I kind of have a love-hate relationship with costume theater. Especially that newsie cap."

"Really?"

"Yup. I loved it when it gave me the chance to mock you and make me feel clever. Then I hated it when I was afraid it might lead to a lawsuit. Then I had a sort of grudging respect for it as a reminder of my mistakes. I started getting pretty fond of it again at Pemberley. For a couple of weeks after, I hated and loved it at the same time. But I'm good now." She looked at him, mouth quirking playfully. "I've made my peace with it."

"You might have a fascinating discourse somewhere in there," William said, brow furrowed in thought. "About how a symbol can both transcend and transform its original referent."

"Mmm." She nestled closer to him. "Why can't you stick around for the next few weeks while I finish writing this?"

"You can call me anytime you want, for thesis advice or otherwise."

"Yes, but when you're speaking media studies jargon over the phone, I can't do this." She pulled him into a hungry kiss, which ended with a frantic grab at the laptop just as it was about to crash to the ground.

"Very true," he said afterward, breathlessly. "Which means you'll probably be far more productive."

"Yeah," she grumbled, shutting the laptop.

"Does this mean you're done being productive for today?"

"I'm done writing, anyway. The longer I'm at it, the more convoluted my sentences get." She set the computer aside and stretched her stiff arms.

"Did you really develop a fondness for that cap?" he asked after a moment.

She reddened. "Yeah…pretty sad, huh?"

"Not really. In recent months, I've discovered an unusual liking for blue plaid- patterned shirts."

"Well, that's just weird," she said teasingly, drawing close for another kiss.

"So…" he murmured, putting his hand to her face, "does this mean you'd like to see me sporting the cap and bowtie more often?"

She grinned. "I wouldn't object to it. But let's be honest. It's never been about the newsie cap. Hyper-reality is nothing next to this."

Judging from his response, he was in complete agreement.

She kept the costume; she kept all the costume theater props for the sake of sentimentality. But they mostly stayed in storage. She had exchanged them for something far better.