Part 1: Marianne

Posted on Friday, 20 July 2001

Setup-the Dashwood residence in Northern Michigan, late morning. In Marianne's life, this interlude comes after Willoughby, but before Brandon.

Marianne sank into the soft leather armchair and closed her eyes. Each hand rested on the arm of the chair. The room was quiet, the only noise coming from the stereo, where Mozart played softly, accentuated occasionally by a bird calling to its mate. Oh so slowly, she drifted off to sleep. Suddenly the soft music was changed to loud, guitar driven surf pop. She slowly opened her eyes and saw a girl standing in front of the stereo system. This was no ordinary girl-Marianne could tell that. From her Birkenstock sandals to her light blue denim Capri's, from her white halter top to the white hair that hung down her back, this girl fairly reeked of other-ness. She turned.

"Oh, hi. You're up."

"Who are you?" Marianne asked cautiously.

The girl walked over and sat on the matching leather ottoman. Marianne was shocked to find herself looking into eyes that were almost white, framed by white lashes and brows. Even the moderate dusting of freckle across the girls' nose was white. The brilliant white of her hair and the very light clothing she wore made her skin look all the more tan. She smiled.

"My full title is Mistress Logan, Angel of Insight. Think "It's a Wonderful Life." Everyone just calls me Logan."

"If you are an angel, where are your wings?" Marianne sighed.

Logan grinned. She turned and lifted her hair, revealing an intricate set of wings tattooed on her back.

"I thought tattoos were taboo."

"Most of them are. But these are G.I. Wings."

"G.I.?"

"God Issued."

"I don't believe in God."

"Well, He believes in you. But I'm not here to convert you; I'm here to show you what you're missing. Come on."

Marianne allowed herself to be pulled up from the chair. Logan led her to the large, sliding glass door, opened it, and stepped outside.

"That door leads to the boat launch," Marianne said condescendingly.

Logan just pulled her through. Marianne was surprised to find herself on a construction site in the middle of the forest. A "Habitat for Humanity" banner hung on one side of an old pickup truck. The sounds of a construction site filled the air-saws, hammers, screw guns, and the occasional unsavory outburst from one of the men.

"Why are we here?" she asked.

Logan pointed up to the roof. Several men were working up there, but one in particular stood out. A bright red bandana signified that Chris Brandon, a particularly tough English professor, was working to finish the rafters.

"Oh, no. It's not going to happen. He's old enough to be my dad!"

"What planet are you from?" Logan shot back. "He's got maybe ten years on you, sure, but aren't you the one who says that 'Age only matters with wine and cheese?'"

A whistle blew, and all the workers climbed down from the house for lunch. Volunteers handed out sandwiches and Gatorade to the hungry people. Chris passed the chuck wagon and headed to the port-a-john. He passed Marianne and Logan on his way. Marianne unconsciously gaped at him; he was shirtless and had developed a deep tan. Even though it had been twelve years since he had been in the service, he was very well built. His auburn/amber hair was damp with sweat and curled from the humidity.

"Not bad for a guy 'old enough to be my dad.'"

Marianne faced Logan, her face flushed slightly.

"Don't worry, he can't see us. How much do you now about him?" Logan asked.

"Not much. He's in his mid thirties, English prof at Delaford U, served in the Marines for 4 years, friends with my uncle John Middleton, and has had a crush on me since I moved here."

"Nothing about his personal life?"

"No. Not like I'd care, or anything."

"Really. So you don't care about the fact that the last serious relationship he was in ended horribly?"

Marianne looked at the angel.

"Go on," she prodded.

"Why? It's not like you'd care, or anything."

"Tell me what happened!" Marianne persisted.

"Fine," Logan said, crouching behind a scraggly bush.

The construction site faded and was replaced by a college campus.

"He dated this one chick, Eliza, all through high school, okay? He thought she was The One. Eliza was a few years younger than him, like three. He graduated and went to a school Down Below (I'm borrowing from the Cat Who... series by Lilian Jackson Braun) and while he was there, he got a Dear John letter from her. It seemed that she met someone she liked better, and since he was up here while Chris was Down Below, she broke up with him."

Marianne found herself in a college dormitory room. Sitting at a desk was Chris, his eyes intent on the letter in front of him. Suddenly he crumpled up the letter and flung it into a corner. He hunched over his desk and began to sob, not caring if anyone heard.

"Anyway, he up and joined the Marines (they beat the Army any 'ole day!) for four years. After he got out, he got a call from a hospital in Albuquerque. Eliza was dying due to complications from a miscarriage. She already had one kid, a little girl called Beth. Anyway, Eliza was asking for Chris, so he hopped the next flight out to New Mexico. He got there just before she died."

The college room dissolved and in its place was a hospital room. Chris was there, four years older but no less handsome. He brushed a few stray curls from the girls' forehead. A doctor and nurse stood by the bed, trying to hide grim faces but failing miserably. Chris nodded slowly, barely concealing tears. He walked out of the room, Marianne and Logan following on his heels.

"Eliza made him promise to take care of Beth, which he did. His relatives took her in while he went to school. That was twelve years ago."

He picked up a small child, a pretty little girl with her mother's blond curls and blue eyes.

"Where's Mommy?" she asked.

"She's gone to live with God in Heaven," Chris answered, his voice choked with emotion.

"How old is the girl?" Marianne asked quietly, back in the forest.

"Fifteen. But that's not all. Last year, she disappeared on a class trip to New York. Just vanished. He found her three months ago, in a hospital down where he went to school. She was about to give birth," Logan paused for breath.

A different hospital room appeared. A young girl, too young to have a child, was in labor. Chris was there, coaching her through. The scene dissolved.

"Oh, G-d," Marianne said.

"It gets better. That guy you were with, John Willoughby, is the father. That's why Chris's classes were cancelled at the end of the semester."

"Elinor told me about that-everyone got credit."

"Yeah. And Chris had heard about what that jerk-off did to you, found him, and beat the sh*t out of him."

"You're kidding." Marianne breathed. He did that, for her?

"Not a bit."

"What happened to the baby?" Marianne asked.

"The baby, a little boy, was given up for adoption. Beth couldn't take care of him, she wasn't mature enough. She and Chris agreed that it was the best course. He was adopted into the Palmer's family. I think you know them," Logan said.

"I knew that Liam had been adopted," Marianne said, astonished. "How amazing."

"He also got Ed that job at Second Chance."

"I know. Elinor told me that too."

"So now what do you think about the good Professor?"

"The outlook is better, but you still haven't convinced me."

Logan cursed under her breath.

"Look!" she said in a harsh whisper.

A reporter sidled up to the professor after he left the john.

"Well, isn't that a charming new development." Logan snorted, her intent, clearly, to make Marianne jealous.

Marianne looked at the woman with curiosity. Slight, slender build. Coffee colored hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. Abnormally tan skin. Green eyes. Lips a dark berry shade. Overall a very pretty woman.

Marianne hated her.

She walked over to the couple to eavesdrop.

"Professor Brandon," she began.

"Please, call me Chris." He slipped into a false front; the same one he used whenever he had an interview. Polite, affable, but distant.

"Chris, how did you get involved with such a noble cause?"

"I've always believed in helping out those less fortunate, and working with Habitat for Humanity is a way of doing that."

"Obviously your line of work keeps you very busy during the school year, one would think you would like to take the summers off."

"No, I have to keep busy or I go absolutely mad. Projects like this take my mind off of...other things." Chris faltered. The reported jumped at it.

"Oh? What other things would those be?"

"I would rather not answer that question, thank you," he curtly replied. The reported blinked. Marianne's curiosity piqued.

"Do you work with Habitat for Humanity all summer, or are you involved in other things?" she continued after an awkward pause.

"I work for a local construction company to supplement my income. Being an English professor doesn't pay all that well," he lamely joked.

This woman was clearly getting on his nerves. She kept pressing him about his personal life-did he have a 'significant other,' etc. The interview lasted a few more minutes, until the whistle blew to signal that the lunch break was over. Chris politely excused himself and swung back up into the house. Marianne watched, fuming, as the reporter stared, practically drooling, at his retreating back.

"That little tramp!" she seethed. "I'd like to-"

"You'd like to what? She's allowed to hit on him. It's not like he has a girlfriend or anything." That last bit was said with a touch of venom. Marianne glared at Logan.

"What? It's true. You've had ample opportunities to bag him but you passed. Let someone else try. Besides, if he's been after you for that long, and you kept pushing him away, what makes you think he'll take you now?"

"I never thought of that. Wait a second-why would he beat up John Willoughby if he didn't like me anymore? That just happened a couple of months ago."

"You have a point there." Logan lit a cigarette. Marianne frowned at her. "I know, I know. I'm trying to quit."

"Well, what should I do?"

"Hey, answering questions is not my forté. I'm the Angel of Insight, not Answers. You're on your own."

She vanished in a puff of cigarette smoke. Marianne looked around. The day was almost done; the workers were slowly drifting away. The final whistle blew and the remaining few workers scattered to their cars. Chris walked over to his truck and tossed his tool belt into the bed. He picked up his discarded shirt and wiped his face.

"Marianne? What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised.

"Um, hi."

"Hi. How did you get here?"

"That's a long story. But I guess I wouldn't mind telling you, if you'd like to go get a cup of coffee or something," she asked cautiously.

"I'd like that," he answered.

Marianne smiled. And somewhere Logan cheered.

Part 2: Lizzy

Posted on Thursday, 25 October 2001

Lizzy sat down in one of the (really) uncomfortable plastic chairs in the school's counseling center, waiting for her appointment with Mrs. Gardiner. Lizzy was one of the very few people in her class not attending college in the fall.

She leaned her head against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. Aunt Maggie (Mrs. Gardiner to the rest of the students), the guidance counselor, was going to try to convince Lizzy to go to some prestigious university Down Below*, but Lizzy just wasn't sure that she wanted to go so far away. Lizzy's eyes began to close when she heard a commotion in the broom closet.

"Oh, hell!" a female voice shouted as a loud crash issued from the tiny room.

The door opened and a striking young woman stepped out. Lizzy looked at her, then looked outside. The girl was dressed in denim Capri's, a white halter-top, and Birkenstocks. Her hair was pure white, as were her eyebrows and lashes, and the freckles that were sprinkled across her nose. It was the dead of winter (read: end of March).

"Why didn't Caesar** tell me I was gonna end up in a broom closet?" the girl mumbled to herself. "Hi. My name's Logan. I'm here to help you."

"Help me how?" Lizzy sighed. It was a dream, it was only a dream.

"Sure, it's a dream," Logan said sarcastically. She gave Lizzy a hard pinch on her arm.

"Ow!"

"So it's not a dream," Logan said, exasperated. "Anyway, you are apparently having a hard time deciding on going to college, n'est pas?"

"Uh, oui," Lizzy answered.

"What's the problem?"

"I dunno. No real interest. Plus, my family needs me here," Lizzy trailed off.

Logan's brow furrowed. From what she knew of the Bennett family, they didn't need Lizzy any more than they needed Lydia.

"That might even be the problem," Logan thought. "Lizzy needs to feel needed. She needs a stronger support system. She's not getting it here, but she's fooling herself into believing she is."

"So, you got a boyfriend or something keeping you here? I know you love your family and all, but there has to be something else."

"No, no boyfriend."

"What about that one guy, Will Darcy? He seemed to like you," Logan started, knowing her response.

"That arrogant jerk? He's long gone. Whatever made you think about him? We were never a couple to begin with. It's his fault Jane and Charles broke up."

"Okay, I'll admit to that. But maybe you were wrong. Maybe he does like you more than he let on."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Lizzy said sourly.

Logan grinned and pulled the unwilling girl to her feet.

"Come on, we're going on a campus visit."

"I've got an appointment with Mrs. Gardiner," Lizzy protested. "I'm missing my government class to be here."

"Trust me, you're not missing much."

Logan dragged Lizzy to the door of the office and flung it open.

"Just how are we getting wherever we're going?" Lizzy asked.

"Like this," Logan said matter-of-factly.

She stepped through the door, pulling Lizzy after her. There was a blinding flash of white light, causing Lizzy to screw her eyes shut. When they opened, her eyes took in the sight of Pemberley University in all of its autumnal splendor, made even more glorious by the setting sun.

"What the-" Lizzy gasped. "Wait. No, not gonna happen," she said, turning away.

"Why?" Logan asked, knowing the answer.

The Darcy family founded Pemberley University over two hundred years ago, and it was one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Everyone in the Darcy family attended Pemberley-it was the best school in the Midwest. Why Fitzwilliam Darcy (the first) chose to start a school in that area (and not out East with all of the other Ivy League schools) was beyond comprehension.

Lizzy wondered at the weather; where they had come from, it was 20 below 0 (Fahrenheit), but here, it was a comfortable 50 degrees F.

"Time travel, honey. It's the way of the future," Logan quipped. Anyway, let's go have a look at your future campus."

"I could never go here," Lizzy argued. "It's way out of my league."

"Yeah, right. Sure. Well, let's go look around, anyway. Who knows, you might like it."

Lizzy sighed loudly and allowed herself to be led into the Residence Halls, up three flights of stairs, and down a crowded hallway. She and Logan were situated between two groups of rather athletic guys. Logan cast a furtive glance around the hall, then quickly pinched one guy's bottom.

The boy in question whirled, his face turning red. No one could see Logan Or Lizzy, so of course he blamed the guy behind him. The ensuing argument escalated into an all-out fight.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Jock One hollered.

"Nothing. I'm going to my room," Jock Two answered.

"Don't play dumb," Jock One started.

"That's a tall order," Logan muttered under her breath.

"You just pinched my ass!" Jock On continued.

They persisted to argue until Jock One got fed up. He lunged and caught Jock Two 'round the waist, knocking him flat. A circle of people gathered around the two boys, doing nothing to break up the fight. Logan reluctantly pulled Lizzy away from the cluster of onlookers and down the now deserted hall.

"Why did you do that?" Lizzy asked.

"Because I could. It's so much fun!"

"Okay, so what are we doing here?"

"You'll see," Logan said mischievously as she pushed open a door marked "Honors Hall." They stopped outside of room 348.

"Here we are; the best room in the Honors Hall. Care to step inside?" Logan gestured to the door.

"Won't they see us?"

"Nope. Nobody can see us. You can just walk through the door if you like."

Lizzy shrugged, closed her eyes, and walked through the door. Once inside, she was surprised to see Logan sitting cross-legged on the lower bunk. Beside the wayward angel was Charlie Bingley. Sitting at his desk, typing away industriously on his computer (laptop with wireless internet card), was Will Darcy, who had his back to Caroline Bingley. The lady (if one could call her that) was sitting elegantly in a beanbag chair, trying desperately to get Will to look at her. Louisa Bingley was lying on the top bunk filing her nails.

Lizzy looked at the Far Side page-a-day calendar that sat on Will's desk.

"October 20? That's the day our class visited here," Lizzy trailed off, remembering that eventful day.

"Yeah. So, what happened?" Logan prodded.

"I got separated from my group when we were going through the dorms and I ended up on this floor. I was trying to find my way back to my group when I ran into Will. He was just coming out of the bathroom after showering," Lizzy blushed. "He had a towel around his waist, and his hair was kinda falling into his eyes. Anyway, he was surprised to see me, and he nearly dropped the towel. He invited me to lunch with Charlie and his sisters," Lizzy shuddered. "And that was that. It was one of the very few times he was nice to me."

"That's a sweet story. Well, as you can see, it's nighttime now. A few hours after your class left," Logan turned and addressed the other people in the room. "Let's see who you're talking about, shall we?"

It was as if someone had pushed the Play button on a soundtrack. Moby was singing a song on the CD player (how he could fit up there, no-one knows). Caroline started with one of her usual snide comments.

"Well, it's certainly good to have the pre-frosh out of our hair, isn't it? Specifically that group from East Rapids***."

"They weren't all that bad," Will said.

"Oh, certainly not! I was just surprised to see so many of them. I didn't think that so many of them could afford to go to such an expensive school," Caroline sneered.

"Most of them can't," Will scoffed. "They were just along for the day off from school."

"How true. Like Lizzy Bennett. She can't possibly be thinking of coming here; it's way out of her league. How much she's changed since the summer. You know, I wouldn't have recognized her if you hadn't said anything, Will darling. She's become ever so pale. Her hair was practically standing three inches above her head! Absolutely horrid."

Lizzy had a murderous gleam in her eyes that grew with every word Caroline uttered. Logan flew from the bed and had to physically restrain her.

"Come on, girl. Calm down. Here, have a cigarette," Logan offered. Lizzy looked down at the half-crushed pack of cigarettes, then back at Logan.

"You need help," she said.

"Come on, Carrie!" Charlie spoke up. "I think that if Lizzy wanted to come to P.U., she could! I mean, there are a lot of scholarships available, and I know she could land any of them!"

"I agree with Charles," Will said. "Elizabeth Bennett is one of the smartest women I know. She could easily gain admittance to Pemberley University," he said, stressing the name of the college as he did not care for the abbreviated version. "As for her appearance, I saw no difference. In fact, it has been a while now that I have considered her to be one of the most attractive women of my acquaintance!" he nearly shouted, and would have, if they weren't in the Honors Hall, where there was an enforced 24 quiet hour rule.

Caroline was speechless for perhaps the first time in her life.

"Okay," Logan started. "So we've seen that, let's go on to the next bit. Lizzy? Lizzy?"

Lizzy was staring at Will as their conversation continued in Mute.

"Earth to Lizzy. Come in, Lizzy!" Logan snapped her fingers, breaking Lizzy out of her reverie.

Lizzy looked around the room. It was curiously empty. Outside, the sky was overcast, and there was at least a foot of snow on the ground.

"Where is everyone?" Lizzy asked.

"Look at the calendar," Logan suggested.

"December 16. Oh, G*d!" Lizzy moaned. Aside from being just before Christmas break, that was the day that Lydia had disappeared.

Lydia had been visiting some friends after school but she didn't come home. Shannon Forster had invited her over, as well as several of her older brother's service buddies. Jack Wickham had been among the group, and Shannon admitted to seeing them leave together, but Lydia had said that Jack was giving her a ride home.

Lizzy was visiting Pemberley a second time with her aunt; one of Maggie Gardiner's friends was a psychology professor there. Maggie's cell phone went off and it was bad news. Will had come in to the psych prof's office on an errand for one of the other profs and heard all about Wickham "kidnapping" Lydia.

"You know where he was?" Logan asked, referring to Will.

"No. All I know is that a week or so later, Lydia was found and Wickham was arrested."

"You do know Wickham's history with the Darcy family, right?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well," Logan said, pacing around the room as the scene changed to a street in the seedier side of Toledo. "You know who found Lydia and Wickham?"

"Yeah. Uncle Joe. He's got connections with the East Rapids Police Department."

"Err, wrong!" Logan said.

She pointed down the street, where a man in a long, black trench coat stood. Logan and Lizzy sidled up to him.

"Will?!" Lizzy said incredulously. "What's he doing here?"

"Well, DUH!" Logan cried. "Isn't it obvious?"

Will checked the address, then knocked on the door. The door opened, then began to shut very quickly.

"I don't think so!" Will said as he pushed his way inside.

"One, Two, Three," Logan began counting. At 13, the door flew open and Wickham was thrown out of it, followed by Will.

The scene changed again. Now Logan and Lizzy were in the Toledo Police station. Will and Joe Gardiner stood with the police chief.

"I don't want my name in any of this. Don't tell anyone I was here. If my identity is in any way revealed in this matter, I will have your head on a pike," Will said severely.

"Come on, Will," Joe reasoned. "Allow us to thank you at least."

"You owe me nothing, Mr. Gardiner. I should have revealed Wickham's character long before this happened," Will continued on a gentler note. "Please don't tell anyone about this."

"Your name won't be heard coming from me with regards to this incident," Joe said formally.

The scene dissolved and once again, Lizzy and Logan were standing in the empty dorm room.

"So, Miss Bennett. What do you say now?" Logan said to Lizzy, who wore a slightly confused look on her face.

"What?"

"Never mind."

"He was the one who found Wickham?" Lizzy asked after a moment.

"Yes, dear," Logan answered. "And you know why he did it?"

Lizzy shook her head.

"Okay then. You'll just have to ask him yourself."

There was another brilliant flash of light and the Angel of Insight was gone. It took Lizzy a moment to realize that she was still in room 348, in the residence halls of Pemberley University, 300 miles away from East Rapids.

She looked at the calendar again-March 29. Lizzy took a deep breath and willed herself to not freak out. She tried to gather her wits about her, but she didn't have enough time. A key slid into the lock of room 348 and a split second later, Will Darcy stepped into his room.

"Lizzy!" he cried. "What are you-How did you-" he stammered, walking towards her.

"Why did you hunt down Wickham?" she blurted. He paused and stood up straight.

"Who told you?" he demanded, his face darkening somewhat.

"Never mind that," she said quickly. "Why?"

"I don't honestly know," Will said quietly. "I guess because he had hurt me in the past by using someone I care about, and I thought that maybe he was trying to hurt me again by using you through Lydia."

There was an awkward pause.

"Come here," Lizzy whispered, gesturing for him to come near her. "Come 'ere."

"Why?" he asked cautiously.

"Just C'mere!" she smiled.

As soon as he was close enough, Lizzy grabbed his shirt collar and brought his head down to her level, kissing him square on the lips.

"Now, where can I sign up for classes?" she asked after a (long) while.

"Well, I'd say that was a successful mission," Logan said triumphantly, looking at the young man with flaming orange eyes.

He wore orange snap-up track pants (no shirt-Woohoo!) and was barefoot. He stood about a head taller than Logan, not counting his curly mop of orange hair.

"Perhaps. Could have been better," Caesar** said.

"How?" Logan asked defensively.

"By not goosing freshmen! It's not accepted!"

"But it's fun!"

"It's irrelevant!" he nearly shouted.

"So I should've goosed Will?" Logan asked innocently.

"No! No goosing!" he hollered, making flames rise from his hair and his eyes flash orange.

"Hey, calm down. No goosing."

"You can be so," Caesar searched for the word he was looking for, his hair still smoking. "Frustrating!" he paused. "Why do I put up with you?"

"Because I'm...cute?" Logan said sweetly, borrowing a line from Chicken Run.

Caesar groaned.

*Down Below: A term used in Lillian Jackson Braun's The Cat Who... series for civilization south of Moose County. Here, East Rapids.

**Caesar: Angel in Charge (couldn't think of an appropriate job title). Characterized by the color Orange, like Logan is characterized by White.

***East Rapids: A blend of East Jordan and Elk Rapids, used here to name a fictitious town because the author couldn't think of something more original.