Posted on: 2014-04-23

"I can't believe we get to see Pemberley Media's offices," said Ayla as the cab weaved its way through mid-morning traffic.

"Why are you so excited about this?" Elizabeth looked up from her phone for a second.

"Why aren't you more excited about this?"

"It's just an office, Ayla. Relax."

"Just an office?! It's supposed to be an incredible space. With amazing views of the Mediterranean."

"I guess I'm just not that interested in architecture."

Ayla shook her head. "You seriously haven't heard anything about this office, have you?"

"No. Does that offend you somehow?"

"It was hard to avoid, Liz. Even for you. When these guys moved into Electra Tower, the news was everywhere. They have 7 or 8 floors or something and the pictures were just breathtaking."

"I vaguely remember seeing the story on the news. I thought it was silly, so I changed the channel."

"You continue to amaze me. And not in a good way."

Not seeming the least bit bothered, Elizabeth shrugged. "I am quite satisfied with that outcome."

With Ayla thus silenced and Ed showing no inclination toward joining the conversation, an uneven quiet descended on the trio for the remainder of the short drive to Pemberley. Even the normally loquacious Ayla found herself overwhelmed by the palpable sense of anxiety that had rendered Ed more sullen and Elizabeth more serious than usual. It was an uneasy business, depending on the generosity of others. And it did not come naturally to the fiercely independent stewards of QED. But an opportunity of this magnitude was rare, and the sobering truth was that the patronage of Pemberley Media could dictate whether QED was an important footnote in history or just another failed experiment. In a way, it was only fitting that QED had to assert its identity in order to make a case for its survival. It was, after all, the product of a region interminably consumed by the question of recognition - of borders, of languages, sometimes of a whole people. Perhaps it was impossible to remain untarnished when all of one's value had to be regarded through the lens of another. But blemishes and all, QED was prepared for the scrutiny. And it was about to discover whether the compromise of absolute principles was too high a price to pay for another tomorrow.

Upon arrival at Electra Tower, the QED contingent was escorted to Pemberley Media's offices by a jovial security officer, who shared his insights about the tenants of the building in conspirational tones usually reserved for old friends. Ayla always seemed to elicit such bouts of unprompted honesty, and Elizabeth could not decide if it was a useful skill or merely an annoyance. In this instance, they listened closely for any clues about a corporation that had more detractors than admirers, at least in their world. They did not learn anything of consequence, however, except that Pemberley's offices were beautiful and its staff friendly. As the elevator neared its destination, Elizabeth found herself caught in an odd mixture of dread and excitement, only the latter of which surprised her. She wanted to believe she was motivated by curiosity about a competitor, elated by the opportunity to observe from within. But in her honest moments, she knew that she was, at least partly, intrigued by Darcy. His life and work were so intertwined that an insight into one seemed like a good substitute for the other. It felt a lot like spying, but she reasoned it was not really her choice, and surely, she could intrude on his oasis for a few moments without being noticed. It was not entirely logical, but over the months, Elizabeth had developed more than a passing desire to know only the second man who had ever come close to loving her. His words had triggered an avalanche of events that had led her, ultimately, to QED. For that, she would be ever grateful, and the only thing she had to offer him in exchange was her understanding - in silence, from afar.

The elevator doors opened, they stepped into Pemberley's lobby, and it was instantly apparent why just an office space had created such a fuss. Oversized windows flooded with brilliant light the reception area adorned by exposed brick walls, artisanal furniture of natural wood and a gigantic leather couch. It was an effortlessly charming space, impressive without being ostentatious, the breathtaking views of Tel Aviv serving as an impeccable backdrop. The receptionist informed them that Mr. Khleifi, the head of Pemberley's Middle East news division, would be with them shortly, so they walked over to the windows in silence. Even in that moment of collective apprehension, they were mesmerized by all the white and blue of the skyline leading to the sea and the sea bleeding into the sky. The city seemed so eerily calm from this vantage point, so devoid of any urgency, so removed from any semblance of reality. There was no war and no peace, no yesterday and perhaps no tomorrow. There was only this shining city by the sea, expansive and unending, unspoiled by the expectation of greatness. And in that moment, nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

"Grand, isn't it?" The voice belonged to a petite man with a shock of gray hair, kind eyes and the gentle smile of a grandfather. "Reynold Khleifi."

Ed shook his hand. "Ed Gardiner. Nice to meet you, Mr. Khleifi. My managing editor, Ayla Jacob and deputy managing editor, Elizabeth Bennet."

"Reynold, please. Thanks for coming. I know you have a lean team...- your time is precious."

"Well, you have our attention," said Ed.

"I appreciate it," said Reynold. "As does Will. He wanted to be here today, but his flight was delayed...-" Seeing the confusion on Ed's face, he said, "Sorry, I mean Will Darcy, our CEO. We're quite informal at Pemberley, you see. When Will first took over for his father - may he rest in peace - I tried to address him as Mr. Darcy, but he wouldn't hear of it. I've known Will since he was a boy. And he didn't want our relationship to change. His father was special...- such a kind man. My mentor in every sense of the word. And Will is going to be just like him. Just as kind. Every bit as great. If not greater...-" Reynold paused. "I'm sorry. I'm prattling on, aren't I? I'm just so proud of that boy. I can't help it. Anyway, you'll be able to judge for yourselves. He should be here tomorrow. And he really wants to meet you, Mr. Gardiner."

"Ed."

Reynold smiled. "Ed."

Ed said, "I wasn't aware Will Darcy was personally involved in this...- uhh, conversation. A transaction of this size would be insignificant to Pemberley."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong." said Reynold, his voice brimming with energy. "It would be very significant. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Why don't I give you a quick tour and then we can talk?"

Ed exchanged a glance with Ayla and Elizabeth. "Ok, sure."

Reynold Khleifi led them on a tour of Pemberley's offices, world-renowned, as it turned out, for good reason. The office sported a Lego room, a music room, a full gym, a slide between floors, a rooftop deck overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and much more. There were 3 restaurants on site, serving a variety of kosher and non-kosher options. Each floor was colorfully-themed, designed with a local identity in mind, meant to illustrate the diversity of Israel. There was a clear separation between the traditional desk-based work environment and more creative communal spaces that were primed to foster innovation and collaboration. Only 4 out of the 8 floors were dedicated to Pemberley News, with the rest housing various other divisions of the gigantic enterprise. By the time the QED team arrived in the bright conference room, even Elizabeth was visibly impressed.

"Just an office, huh?" whispered Ayla as they sat down.

Elizabeth smiled. "A beautiful one, I'll grant you that."

Ayla just shook her head and turned to Reynold. "That's an amazing office. Not what you'd expect from a news organization."

Reynold nodded. "You're right. Feels more like a Google office, doesn't it? That was kind of the point. It was Will's vision, actually. Here in Tel Aviv, the number one competition for young talent is the tech industry. After losing a promising young candidate for the TV division to yet another start-up, Will decided it was time we reinvented ourselves. The office is just a symptom of a larger change. We want Pemberley to compete in the 21st century. For talent, for content, for an audience. And rethinking our work space is just the beginning."

"He sounds like a visionary," said Ayla.

"Will? Oh yes," said Reynold, clearly happy to continue talking about his favorite subject. "He really is. And so humble that you'd never know it. He's a quiet guy, fairly reserved, not really prone to self-congratulation. Sometimes people mistake that for arrogance or...- pride, but he's the nicest, most caring person you'll ever meet. But then, I've always observed that those who are good-natured when they are children remain so as adults."

"A good boss, then?" said Ayla.

"The best." Reynold nodded. "We're lucky to have him. Sometimes I think I'm biased, but you can ask anyone else here at Pemberley. He is universally loved. And that is a rare feat for a CEO these days."

With every passing word, Elizabeth's face registered her surprise, and she was thankful that Ed and Ayla were too distracted to notice. She would need to tell them the truth. And soon. It was all happening so quickly. At least she would have another day or two before having to face Darcy. That was, perhaps, the most surprising bit of information. She could not fathom what could possibly drive him to get personally involved in discussions with a small, insignificant magazine such as QED. There had to be a good reason, an angle she was not considering, but her faculties seemed to be failing her at present. And then there was Pemberley's beautiful office, impressive in its own right, but considerably more interesting to her after Reynold's explanation of the philosophy behind it. Will's philosophy. And finally, there was Reynold. A loyal man, no doubt, but his lavish praise of his boss felt genuine. After all, he had no reason to manufacture such goodness as he could not be privy to its very existence being in question. No, he was perfectly sincere, and so, a troubling picture was beginning to emerge. Troubling to her, anyway. A picture of a boss revered, a CEO underestimated, a man misunderstood. She had been wrong about his sins, but was still surprised to hear of his virtues. Even now. After all this time. After all that she knew to be true. It seemed that when it came to Will Darcy, she was incapable of doing her job. Facts first. And only then a conclusion. But the universe seemed to be in a charitable mood. She was on the precipice of another opportunity to get things right. And this time, she was determined that she would.

"Reynold." Ed cleared his throat. "I appreciate you taking the time to talk to us today. It's really impressive...- everything you're doing here. But I have to ask...- why the interest in QED? What have we to offer you?"

"That is the essential question, isn't it?" said Reynold. "But perhaps not the only one."

"Forgive my obtuseness, but I really do not follow."

Reynold smiled enigmatically. "Think of all that you have accomplished with limited resources. What could be possible if those resources were supplanted by, say, the nearly unlimited coffers of Pemberley Media?"

"A great many things, but surely, you are not in the business of making an old man's dreams come true?"

"No. We are in the business of making money for our shareholders."

"Right," said Ed. "Which brings us back to my original question. We are not exactly opposed to profit at QED, but it is certainly not our forte. I'm afraid you will be disappointed if you expect me or my team to help you improve your profit margins. We're reporters first. Business does not come naturally to us, but we're making a go of it now. And we'll see where that journey takes us. But I have a difficult time envisioning it taking us to a corporation such as yours...- unless you see us for who we are."

"I admire your honesty."

"I'm sorry to be so blunt," said Ed. "But time is too valuable a commodity to be wasted."

"You're not," said Reynold. "Wasting my time, that is. We would not be interested in QED if you weren't this sort of man."

"And what sort of man do you think I am?" It was Ed's turn to smile.

"One who would turn down a prudent arrangement that conflicted with his principles."

"Some would call such a man foolish."

"Yes. But we have plenty of pragmatism, you see. It's the foolish dreaming we need." Reynold paused. "Not that I'm calling you foolish, by any means."

Ed laughed. "No, that's quite all right. I called myself foolish. And besides, I can't claim all the glory." He looked at Ayla and Elizabeth. "It always helps when you have deputies who would kill you if you ever compromised on the things that matter."

Reynold nodded. "A good team is important. And as far as I can tell, yours is an excellent one."

"You have that impression because we are on our best behavior," said Elizabeth with a grin. "You said you want dreamers. If that's what you really want, then you've come to the right place. But where exactly would QED fit into the larger Pemberley picture?"

"Excellent question," said Reynold. "And one I'm afraid I'm unable to answer right now."

"Why?" said Elizabeth.

"We are in the midst of a major overhaul," said Reynold. "It's highly confidential. Very few people are aware of it. So you understand the need for discretion."

"Of course," said Elizabeth.

"But you're wondering how you're expected to make any decision without full information?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Yes."

"We - Will and I - were hoping you would consent to signing a confidentiality agreement," said Reynold. "It would allow us to be a bit more open with you. And you could be more open with us. And then, we could really talk about the possibilities. Conduct our diligence, so to speak."

"And what happens at the end of that diligence process?" said Ed.

"If we reach an agreement that is amenable to all parties, we would take it to the Board."

"And if we don't?"

"Then I suppose we would wish you well and focus on executing our strategy with another partner."

Ed looked at Reynold. "What would be the structure of this confidentiality agreement? Would it have some sort of tail? What sort of things would it preclude us from doing?"

"All great questions. We'll have our lawyers draft a copy for your review. We'd want you to be comfortable before signing anything."

Ed was silent for a moment. "I think we need a day or two to think about this. Would that be ok?"

"Of course. Take your time," said Reynold. "And hopefully, you'll get to meet Will before you make your decision. He can be quite persuasive."

"I bet," said Ayla. "Just so we're clear here, what are we talking about exactly? An acquisition of QED by Pemberley? Or some other arrangement?"

"Well, it would depend on the outcome of our discussions," said Reynold. "But Will is partial to an outright acquisition. It's cleaner that way."

"No doubt as to who is in charge," said Ayla. "And what about our editorial control?"

"That is a critical issue for you. We understand. And we hope to have a proposal that works for you. I hate to hide behind the lawyers, but that's all I can say at this point."

"Understood," said Ed. "Well, why don't we caucus on our end. We'll wait to hear from your lawyers and perhaps meet with your Will Darcy. And hopefully, we'll have a decision on the way forward by the end of the week. Sound ok?"

"Sounds perfect," said Reynold as he stood up. "It was nice meeting all of you. We'll be in touch."

Reynold led the QED team back to the elevators and took his leave. The team gave each other looks, silently communicating about the events of the past hour. A lot needed to be said. And debated. And considered. They were all a bit exhausted by the prospect. As the elevator doors opened, Elizabeth realized she had left her phone in the conference room. She told Ed and Ayla to head downstairs; she'd catch up with them in a minute. Elizabeth slipped back to the conference room quickly - and unseen - and found her phone where she had left it. Sighing in relief, Elizabeth practically ran out of the conference room and right into an unsuspecting employee of Pemberley. She started to apologize profusely until he turned around. And then she gasped. It was Will.

Elizabeth blushed. She felt naked under his gaze. He had this way of looking at her as though nothing else existed. She had never been able to read it. That intent gaze with those curious eyes and that inscrutable hint of a smile. It had always seemed like yet another form of derision. But now she knew better. Or at least, she knew why he had looked at her then. As for now, she could only conjecture as to his feelings. He seemed shocked to see her. Beyond that, she really had no idea. It occurred to her that the last time she'd seen him had been at the porch in Sun Valley. It felt like a lifetime ago. She wondered if he, too, was thinking of that same moment. It was the kind of reminiscence that was subjugated to the dark corners of her mind where all the guilt and regret went to hide. Familiar waves of tense contrition washed over her, and she unconsciously took a deep breath. She had to escape before the facade of calm rationality crumbled before his eyes. Far greater things than her honor depended on it.

Finally, she found her voice. "Will."

"Liz." His voice sounded as tense as hers. That gave her a modicum of comfort - and satisfaction.

"Hi."

"Hi."

She bit her lips and cleared her throat. "Of all the gin joints, in all the towns...-"

He smiled at her. "Well, I do own the company that is renting this floor... so technically, you're in my gin joint."

She released the breath she did not know she had been holding, his smile and tone putting her at ease. "Good point, Mr. Darcy."

"So what are you doing here?"

It seemed more like a friendly inquiry than an accusation of trespass, but she still felt strange about having been discovered there. "I...- umm, well, we were just here meeting Reynold...-"

He raised his eyebrow. "Who's we?"

"My colleagues and I. From QED."

"You work at QED?" There was genuine surprise in his voice.

"Yes."

"I had no idea."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you. QED did not seem like the kind of thing that would be elevated to your level. And I thought...- I mean, well, Reynold said you weren't expected until tomorrow. If I had known you were coming...- I would have warned you or something. I...- I'm really sorry, Will." Elizabeth stopped talking, flustered at her lack of coherence.

"It's ok, Liz," said Darcy. "It's ok that you're here. I'm glad to see you."

"Oh." Was all the response she could muster.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm ok. And you?"

"Good, good," he said. "I was just in New York. I saw Jane and Charles for dinner last night."

"I'm jealous. Are they all right?"

"Oh, you know them. They're always just great."

Elizabeth smiled. "Yeah. That about sums them up."

"So what did you think of our office?"

"It's beautiful, Will. I don't see how anyone could have a different opinion."

"You're difficult to impress," said Darcy. He looked at her for a moment before glancing at his watch. "I hate to cut this short, but I need to run into a meeting."

"Oh yes. Of course."

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you?"

Elizabeth laughed nervously. "We couldn't avoid it if we tried."

He just smiled. "Bye, Liz."

"Bye, Will."

Elizabeth walked to the elevators, the wheels of her mind furiously turning. He had been friendly, warm even. It was more than she had the right to expect. Her appearance at Pemberley had clearly surprised him, but he had accepted it as though it were the most natural thing in the world that they should meet in Israel after a year of conspicuous disengagement. In fact, everything about his manner puzzled her. But she had no time to dwell on such trifling details when matters of far greater consequence required her attention. Ed and Ayla awaited her return and would demand an explanation for her lengthy absence. She could certainly invent a thousand different fictions, but it was time for the truth. From the moment Pemberley had entered the picture just days ago, she had known this moment would come. Just not this soon.

When Elizabeth exited the building, she found Ed and Ayla waiting for her. "Sorry."

"What happened?" said Ayla.

Elizabeth sighed as they began walking. "I need to tell you both something. I --" She did not get to finish her thought.

"Liz!"

Elizabeth turned around to see Darcy hurriedly walking toward her. "Will?" With an apologetic glance at Ed and Ayla, she began to walk toward him. "Will, what are you doing?"

He was a bit short of breath. "Sorry I left so abruptly."

"What about your meeting?"

"It can wait. Turns out they can't start without me."

Elizabeth smiled. "Being the boss has its benefits."

Darcy nodded. "Won't you introduce me to your friends?"

Elizabeth frowned. His behavior continued to surprise her, and she was almost out of words. "Ed Gardiner and Ayla Jacob. Editor-in-chief and managing editor of QED. Guys, this is William Darcy, CEO of Pemberley Media."

"Nice to meet you both. Everyone calls me Will," said Darcy. "Mr. Gardiner, I am a huge fan of your work."

Ed's face remained dispassionate as he said, "Ed, please. You flatter me, Will."

"I've followed your work for a long time," said Darcy. "I confess I haven't been able to stay abreast of all the developments at QED. But I'm hoping we will be able to have some fruitful discussions together."

"Yes, Reynold gave us a bit of a preview today," said Ed.

"I hope it wasn't a waste of your time," said Darcy. "I wanted to be here, but had some travel issues."

"Not at all. Reynold was great. I think we have a game plan, Will."

"Perfect," said Darcy. "Well, I won't keep you guys. I'll debrief with Reynold. I'm sure we'll be in touch soon." He paused, then smiled. "It was nice to meet you, Ed." He looked at Ayla. "Ayla." Finally, his gaze lingered on Elizabeth. "Bye, Liz."

As Darcy walked away, Elizabeth felt two pairs of eyes on her. "I...-"

"No," said Ed, his voice shaking. "Not here."

"Ed...-"

"No. In my office." End of discussion.

It felt a lot like waiting to be called into the principal's office. Elizabeth had some experience with such interactions. She had always been a good student, but one who rarely followed directions she did not find logical. There was that time in fourth grade when Mrs. Stein had asked the class to work on reading comprehension. Bored by the exercise that she had deemed redundant, Elizabeth had, instead, organized her own Sunday morning talk show in the vein of Meet the Press with a few reluctant collaborators. Or the time in seventh grade when an argument with Matthew Godfrey had gotten boisterous when he had challenged her assertion that Christiane Amanpour was the greatest journalist of all time. Elizabeth knew what is was like to be berated by those in a position to discipline her. But this time, she knew that she deserved every word of censure coming her way. And so, she sat quietly as Ed finished an email, the eerie silence in the office punctuated by the strokes of the keyboard.

Finally, when Ed looked up, Elizabeth said, "Ed, I...-"

"You could have told me you were friends with the bloody CEO of Pemberley."

"Well, I wouldn't say that we're friends."

"You wouldn't, huh? So he runs out to talk to every random employee of small magazines his company wants to buy?"

"Ed, it's complicated."

"Oh god, he's not your ex or something, is he?"

"Well, no. Not exactly."

"Are you going to tell me or do I have to beg?"

"Sorry. It's hard. He...- he asked me out a year ago. I said no. I haven't seen him since."

Ed raised an eyebrow. "You turned him down?"

"Yes. Are you surprised?"

"In my experience, when a handsome young CEO asks you out, you generally say yes."

Elizabeth smiled. "That happen to you a lot?"

"No. But I'm not a pretty girl."

"I'm not that pretty. And I'm not like most girls."

"As if I needed any more proof of that. Well, not sure how it's possible, but this may be even worse than him being your ex."

"I'm really sorry. I should have said something. I didn't think we'd run into him. It all happened so quickly. I know it's not an excuse, but I just haven't had much time to process it all."

"This puts us in quite the delicate position. You realize that, right?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I do."

Ed sighed in frustration. "Great. This is just great."

"Ed, I take full responsibility. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to fire me. I can just resign actually."

Ed looked at her for a moment. "No."

"No?"

"No. That's good of you to offer. But you're not going anywhere."

"But, Ed..."

"No. I don't want any arguments. We'll figure this out."

"You sure?"

"You're the best I have. Maybe the best I've ever seen. I'm not parting with you because of a little love spat," said Ed. "I trust you can keep things professional?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"And can he?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't know."

"Is he the kind of man who holds a grudge? I wouldn't guess so based on the behavior I witnessed from him today... but then again, who knows."

"I don't know how to answer that question. I'm sorry, Ed. I'm not trying to be coy. The man is a mystery to me."

"Somehow that does not surprise me. Well...- I need you to fix it."

"And how do you expect me to do that?"

"I don't know. You're asking the wrong person. But it's your mess. And you have my sympathies. But I need you to fix it. You understand?"

Elizabeth sighed. "Yes."

"Good. I really don't want to know all the gory details, but if there's ever anything relevant to QED, you'll come to me immediately?"

"Definitely." Elizabeth rose from her chair.

Ed gave her one of his piercing looks. "Liz...- I have to ask you one more thing."

"Sure. Anything."

"Those concerns you had about a deal with Pemberley... they didn't have anything to do with Will Darcy, did they?"

"No, Ed. Absolutely not. I promise you."

"Ok. I trust you. But I need you to stay objective. We have a lot on the line here."

"I know. I'm sorry about this, Ed. But you have my word. Going forward, I will be honest and direct with you. And Will Darcy is not going to be a problem. I'll make sure of it."

"Good. If it ever gets to be too much, just come talk to me."

"Ok. Thanks, Ed."

"But Liz? If you need love advice, you better go talk to Ayla."

From: William Darcy [william.darcy@pemberley.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 2:05 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Hey

Hi Liz - it was such an unexpected treat to see you today. We didn't really get to properly catch up. It's been a while... Would you want to grab a drink tonight? No pressure if you're busy.

Will

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 2:07 PM
To: William Darcy [william.darcy@pemberley.com]
Subject: Re: Hey

Will - how did you get this email?!

From: William Darcy [william.darcy@pemberley.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 2:12 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: Hey

The NSA is tapping all our phones and you don't think I can find out your email?

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 2:20 PM
To: William Darcy [william.darcy@pemberley.com]
Subject: Re: Hey

Touche.

Drinks sound lovely. Maybe 8?

From: William Darcy [william.darcy@pemberley.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 2:22 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: Hey

Great. I'm staying at the Montefiore. Hear they have a nice bar. Want to meet there? Or is there another place that's more convenient for you?

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 2:25 PM
To: William Darcy [william.darcy@pemberley.com]
Subject: Re: Hey

That works. You've been in Tel Aviv a nanosecond and already know one of the trendiest bars. I'm impressed.

From: William Darcy [william.darcy@pemberley.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 2:32 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: Hey

By my count, I've impressed you twice today. Think that's more than the entire time I've known you. Let's see if I can keep up the winning streak. :)

See you then.

"You ok?" Ayla poked her head into Elizabeth's office.

"Yeah." Elizabeth nodded. "Have you talked to Ed? Is he angry?"

"No. He got distracted by another crisis, and I think he forgot all about you and your Will Darcy."

"He's not my Will Darcy."

"Right. Seems like that could be fixed really easily."

"Ayla...- now is not the time."

"He's really handsome, you know."

"Noted. Anything else?"

Ayla laughed. "You are such a cheeky little bugger."

"I won't even pretend to know what that means."

"You Americans need to develop a better vocabulary."

"Ayla, I'm trying to work."

"Fine. I want the full story sometime. Can't believe I had no clue." Ayla paused. "You and Ed - you're both being a bit daft, if you ask me."

"Really? Why is that?"

"You're so focused on it being a bad thing that Will fancies you...--"

"Fancied me."

"Ok. That's a pile of rubbish, but ok. Did you pause to consider that maybe it's a good thing?"

"Good thing, how?"

"Maybe this whole situation helps our negotiating position with Pemberley?"

"That's what they call a lose-lose situation. Either he hates my guts, and we go under. Or he's madly in love with me and goes out of his way to help us, which would be highly inappropriate and torpedo my career. Either way, I'm out of luck."

"Always so optimistic. One of your better qualities. Maybe there's another alternative?"

"Enlighten me."

"He is madly in love with you. Or maybe he's just indifferent. But he chooses to be professional and judge QED on its merits. We don't even know if we want a deal yet. Why doesn't everyone just calm down for a second?"

Elizabeth smiled. "You should really meet my sister Jane."

"Why?"

"She also believes in happy endings."

Ayla just shook her head. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"He asked to meet for a drink tonight. We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Of course. You're right, Liz. He clearly hates your guts."

"You have no idea what I said to him the last time we talked."

"Oh I know you, Liz. Trust me, I have some idea. So what's the big plan?"

"Damage control."

"Good luck with that."

"I'm going to need a lot more than luck. I'm going to need a miracle."

"Can't help you there. But message me if you need an emergency evac."

Posted on: 2014-05-08

Elizabeth stood outside the Montefiore, her pulse racing and her cheeks flushed with the color of anticipation tinged with trepidation. The air smelled vaguely of sweat and perfume, the remnants of a summer day already forgotten, the promise of a long night still ahead. It felt eerily quiet, this unassuming block with scarce traffic and only the occasional passerby, the sole sounds of note emanating from within the hotel. In a matter of hours, a horde of revelers would be everywhere, emerging from every street corner and dark alley and quiet neighborhood, claiming the city until the sun banished them back to obscurity. This city was rightfully theirs - the young and carefree, unburdened by the travails barely concealed, hopeful in the sea of hopelessness. The willful ignorance irked her sometimes, but tonight, she just envied them. It could be liberating to embrace life as it appeared without the dampening cloak of reality. Perhaps then, drinks would be just drinks and not a fight for survival. But it was a fight. With herself. With a past that did not seem to want to let her go. With a future she may be close to losing again. And perhaps with the man who had every right to demand a fight. Elizabeth forced a deep breath. And then she walked into the hotel.

She saw him the moment she walked in. He was hard to miss, all formal suit and tie with an immaculate posture that probably would have made his mother proud. Sometimes she forgot how young he was - barely two years her senior with the fate of an empire in his hands. He wore responsibility with the ease of a man whose life had been riddled with expectation. His very existence seemed to be an exercise in control, every word, every action given the scrupulous consideration it deserved. That mask of control had been lifted in her presence on precisely one occasion, and while she had no desire for a repeat performance, it was gratifying to know that he was not above the sort of frailties that plagued the remainder of their species. He, too, was human, prone to emotion and irrationality, capable of anger and venom, his studied restraint no longer the guarantee of infallibility. It gave her hope that he might understand her, all of her. What was then and what remained now. And with understanding, perhaps eventually, would come acceptance - and forgiveness. It seemed like a lot to ask, but her alternatives were meager. She could not choose his absence, and it seemed that her entire career depended on his understanding. And tonight, it was her duty to ensure that her fate was not inextricably linked to that of QED, no matter the outcome of their conference.

Darcy looked up just as Elizabeth slid onto the barstool next to him, his normally handsome features softened by the brilliant smile on his face. She met his eyes, bright with obvious delight, and felt her anxiety subside. She could not yet explain it, but he was different - and not altogether unpleasant. She returned his smile with unfamiliar diffidence. "Hi Will. I'm so sorry I'm late."

Darcy's smile grew wider. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to come."

"I should have called...- I just got caught in an emergency and lost track of time. I'd say unforeseen, but it's a daily occurrence at QED." Elizabeth paused. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I know you must have a million things to do."

Darcy shook his head. "I'm at your disposal. Don't worry about it, Liz. You're here now."

"I'm here now," said Elizabeth, out of words again.

"It's good to see you in your natural habitat."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrow. "You make it sound like you're on a safari, and I'm a giraffe."

Darcy's eyes lingered on her for a moment. "You're not nearly tall enough."

Elizabeth laughed and ordered herself a drink. "So... how've you been, Will?"

Darcy shrugged. "Ok, I guess."

"Don't sound so excited."

"Not much to report, really. I've just been working, keeping busy."

"I hear you've been traveling a lot, not spending much time in New York?"

"Yeah... only so much you can get done from headquarters. And there isn't much keeping me in New York," said Darcy as he sipped his drink. "Who'd you hear that from, anyway?"

"You forget I have a lot of spies."

"Right."

"Well, the same spies as you, except I am actually good at getting information. Seems like you were in the dark about my whereabouts, judging from the shock on your face this morning."

"Oh... yeah. Anne had mentioned you were back in this part of the world. But she didn't tell me where, and I didn't ask."

Elizabeth bit her lips. "Of course. Why would you?"

After a moment of awkward silence, Darcy said, "How are you?"

"Good. Really good, actually. I love it here."

"You seem happy."

"I am. I wasn't sure about Tel Aviv at first, but Ed convinced me otherwise."

"Yeah?"

"Well, I didn't understand why QED was based here. In my head, it made a lot more sense to be in Jerusalem. In the thick of things, you know?"

"What changed your mind?"

"The way Ed explained it. Tel Aviv is a bit of a bubble. You're not too far from many volatile areas, many war zones, but look around you. You wouldn't know it. This place is a way for us to remember our audience. Most of our audience is in places like Tel Aviv. Away from the uncomfortable truths. It allows us to keep our perspective."

"That's an interesting way to look at it."

"Yeah. Ed has a way of convincing you his approach is right. Plus, his wife Madelyn wanted a change. They'd been in Jerusalem for years."

"Right. He used to be the Jerusalem bureau chief for NPR."

"I see you've done your homework."

"Naturally," said Darcy. "QED seems like the perfect place for you."

"It is."

"How did Ed find you?"

"Ed and I are old friends. We spent time together in Iraq during the war. When he launched QED, he asked me to join him. I hesitated," said Elizabeth. "I'm just grateful the position was still open by the time I had the courage to say yes."

"He certainly seems to think highly of you."

"What makes you say that?"

"He brought you to the meeting today. That means he trusts you. Plus he gave you a pretty fancy title."

"Titles are all nonsense. I do like editing...- and training the junior staff. But my first love will always be reporting."

"Have you been back in the field?"

"With all my other responsibilities... not as often as I'd like. But I was back in Iraq in the spring, covering the election."

"Oh?" said Darcy. "How was that?"

"Complicated," said Elizabeth. "Some things have changed. Others not so much. It felt familiar and alien all at once, you know? Like coming home and realizing everyone you know is gone. It was surreal."

Darcy was silent for a second. "It must have been difficult."

"Yes...- and no. Like I said, it's complicated. But I'm glad I went back. It was important for me - from a personal standpoint - to go back, to confront the things that were unresolved. Last time...- well, I didn't get to leave on my own terms."

"I imagine your family is a bit wary of your return to the Middle East."

"Why - did Jane say something?"

"No. I do have powers of observation, however. And a bit of an imagination."

"They're fine. Understanding, but not thrilled."

"Surely you don't begrudge them the right to be worried? The people who love you...- it must be difficult for them to reconcile with the notion of you perpetually in harm's way."

"Not perpetually."

"That is just your estimation."

"Maybe. But it's likely vastly superior to anyone else's...- in the end, I am the one taking the risks."

"So you do see the risks?"

"Of course. I'm not blind, Will.

"I was not suggesting that you are. I'm just curious to understand your perspective."

"I see the risks, but I do it anyway. That's what makes me who I am. It's not always pretty. Or smart, probably. But it's the one constant in my life. This is the only thing I've ever truly wanted."

"I'm happy for you, Liz. I'm glad you're finally where you're supposed to be. It must be so exhilarating."

"Yes. And terrifying."

"Yeah?"

"No one gets everything they want," said Elizabeth. "So, can I ask you a question?"

Darcy nodded. "Sure."

"What are your intentions toward QED?"

"You asking as a friend or an employee of QED?"

"Both, I imagine. That is, if you still consider me a friend."

"I never stopped considering you a friend."

"I'm not sure I deserve such generosity from you."

"I guess that's for me to decide," said Darcy. "I'm afraid I can't say much about QED except that we're evaluating all alternatives."

"Reynold seemed to indicate you guys are overhauling your news department."

"Is that a question?"

"Well, are you?"

"I can't comment on that."

"You always so evasive?"

"When talking to a reporter? Yes."

"Off the record, then?"

"Sorry, Liz. Given your affiliation with QED, I really can't say much. It will have to wait for the confidentiality agreement."

"Ok. Fair enough. But I hope you realize that we're doing a good thing here. It may not be obvious if you just look at a spreadsheet, but QED matters."

"I know it does."

Elizabeth frowned. "Why do I have the uncomfortable feeling that you're just trying to placate me?"

"Because you always choose to attribute the worst possible motivations to me."

Elizabeth looked at him, but his face betrayed no emotion. "I...- I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I'm not sure I really help my case."

Elizabeth sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm going to do my best to stay out of your way. But I hope my involvement doesn't change your view of QED?"

"Change it how?"

"Oh I don't know... maybe you don't want to invest in a publication that employs a crazy woman who likes to hurl insults at you?"

"Is this another way for you to ask me what I intend to do with QED?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Maybe?"

"You don't let up, do you?"

"No. I can't. Occupational hazard."

"Of course."

"Look, Will. Let me be straight with you. I'm kind of in a tough spot. If my being at QED jeopardizes its future in any way, I couldn't live with that. So if you...- don't feel comfortable about this or don't want to deal with me, I understand. But you just need to tell me, ok? Ed is already pretty upset. I can't afford to make the situation any worse."

"Wait, why is Ed upset?"

Elizabeth stared at her drink. "I told him about Rosings."

"You did what?"

"I had to. He is a lot more perceptive than he seems. When you came to talk to me outside Pemberley this morning...- well, he guessed that we had a history. QED is his life's work, Will. Understandably he's a bit miffed that I may be totally ruining everything."

Darcy did not speak immediately. "Well, that's just great."

"It's not ideal, I know."

"Not ideal?" said Darcy. "I'll say. I love to have my private life broadcasted to people I barely know."

"I'm sorry."

Darcy sighed. "It's not your fault. So... what do you want from me exactly?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"I think we'd both agree that my ability to read you is limited at best."

"I...- I want you to just forget that you know me and evaluate QED impartially."

"You don't think I can be impartial?"

"You're human, Will. I wouldn't blame you."

"I may not be good at forgetting things, but I can be impartial. Don't worry."

"As long as QED doesn't get tainted by its association with me."

"Tainted? Why?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Oh you know, Will. I thought your good opinion once lost was lost forever?"

"What makes you think you've lost my good opinion?" said Darcy.

"Haven't I?"

There was dead silence for a few moments. Finally, Darcy said, "You have nothing to worry about. My interest in QED has nothing to do with you. And how this all turns out...- well, I can guarantee that it will have nothing to do with you. This is strictly business, Liz. I am many things, but I'm not unprofessional."

"Thanks, Will. That's a relief to hear."

"I should be offended that you think so little of me."

"I don't...- I just, well, I don't know where we stand exactly. So, I guess I wasn't sure...-"

"If I was holding a grudge?" said Darcy.

Elizabeth inclined her head. "Yes."

"I'm not."

"You're a better man than I thought, Will. In more ways than one."

"Thanks," said Darcy. "I don't know if I've earned that yet."

"You have. Besides, I am quite stingy with the compliments, so it's best to accept them when I'm in a giving mood."

Darcy laughed. After a brief pause, he said, "You know I have to address this whole situation with Ed when we speak tomorrow."

Elizabeth looked at him, horrified. "What? Why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"No. Will, you can't. You just can't. I don't want to be a topic of discussion. Especially if I'm not a part of that discussion."

"Just think of what you're asking me."

"I'm not trying to be unreasonable, Will. I'm really not. But I hate being in this position. I feel like some sort of cliche. I know that's not fair to you. But that's how I feel."

"Liz. Just listen to me for a second. I know it's hard for you, but you have to trust me."

"Ok..." Elizabeth did not sound convinced.

"I know how you feel. You didn't do anything wrong. Maybe I did... maybe I didn't. But either way, it's in the past. So I get it. It's not fair that it's all coming back. And I'm sorry about that. But you asked me to be professional. So when I think about this as a CEO - not your friend - I say, this whole thing is a distraction. It doesn't matter. We will get past it. I know we will. And we will do the right thing. I need to communicate that to Ed. I respect him. And I don't want the beginning of what I hope is a long and productive relationship to be marred by questions he might now have about my character."

"He doesn't have questions about your character."

"He does," said Darcy. "Otherwise, he wouldn't be upset or worried right now."

"Ugh." Elizabeth buried her head in her hands. "This is a nightmare." He was right. She knew he was right. But it did not make his proposal any more palatable.

Darcy studied her for a long moment. "If it means so much to you...- I won't speak to Ed about this."

Elizabeth looked up and stared at him in surprise. He met her eyes without hesitation, and she saw a resolve she imagined made him formidable in the board room. "You'd do that for me?"

Darcy nodded. "Nothing is worth seeing you this upset."

"What about your professional duties?"

"I guess I'm making a choice."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't get you, Will."

"I'm not that complicated."

"I don't know what to say. Thanks, Will. I'm touched... but you're right. You have to speak to Ed."

"Ok. Now I'm officially confused."

"I'm reacting emotionally to a situation that I need to evaluate with dispassion. You have the right idea. You should speak to Ed - as the leader of one organization to another. And ease any concerns he might have. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable, I'm not going to lie. But that's ok. Like you said, it's the right thing to do."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks for your offer, though. It was sweet of you. But if I accept it, we'll have defeated the purpose of this entire conservation."

"Which was?"

"To ensure that we could work together as professionals."

"And here I thought you just wanted to have a drink with me."

"I, ahh...-"

"You don't have to say anything, Liz," said Darcy with a smile. "So, are you satisfied with the outcome of our conversation?"

"Yes. I think so."

"Good. You're not easy to please, you know."

"I don't know why you keep saying that. I think I'm delightful."

"I can't disagree with that." Darcy paused and raised his glass. "Here's to the start of a promising partnership... to QED."

"To QED."

Elizabeth took a sip of her drink, surprised that it was not relief that washed over her, but a profound confusion. His manner was so altered - so full of warmth and effortless charm - that she could scarcely remember why she had once considered him so objectionable. And while she did not wish to speculate on the catalyst behind his apparent transformation, she wondered if she might have inadvertently contributed to its genesis. There remained so many unforgotten memories and unanswered questions and unsaid words. Waiting for her to face the things that she had done. The day of reckoning no longer seemed like just an idea. And strangely, she felt almost relieved.

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 10:55 PM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: So

Did you know?

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 4:01 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

Know what?

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 11:10 PM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

That Will was coming to Israel?

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 4:11 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

No.

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 11:15 PM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

You sure?

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 4:18 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

Yes. Liz, keeping track of him is like a full time job. And I have neither the time nor the inclination.

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 11:20 PM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

Ahhhhh.

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 4:22 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

I take it you've seen him?

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 11:30 PM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

Yes!

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 4:35 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

And?

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 11:38 PM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

We're both still alive.

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 4:42 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

Well, that's a start, I suppose.

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 11:45 PM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

Yes... life's all about celebrating small victories, right?

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 4:50 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

Always. Was it really bad?

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 14, 2014 12:01 AM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

No, actually. Surprisingly, it was nowhere near as bad as you'd imagine.

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 5:05 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

Huh.

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 14, 2014 12:11 AM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

That's all?

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 5:14 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

I'm not getting involved.

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 14, 2014 12:17 AM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

Smart move. I need to ask you a question, though.

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 5:20 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

Shoot.

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 14, 2014 12:22 AM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

Should I apologize?

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 5:26 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

For what?

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 14, 2014 12:30 AM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

You know.

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 5:34 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

Oh. Well, it's really up to you.

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 14, 2014 12:41 AM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

Last year, you told me I shouldn't.

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 5:44 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

I don't remember ever saying that.

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 14, 2014 12:45 AM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

It was implied.

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 5:49 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

Well, I'm rarely subtle, so if I meant to say it, I probably would have been clear about it. And it was a stressful time for all of us...

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 14, 2014 12:55 AM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

I remember.

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 5:59 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

What do *you* want to do? Apologizing is never the wrong choice, you know.

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 14, 2014 1:04 AM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

That's where you're wrong. There is such a thing as a bad apology. Trust me.

From: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Date: August 13, 2014 6:10 PM
To: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Subject: Re: So

Then I don't know what to tell you. Don't overthink it. Just do what feels right.

From: Elizabeth Bennet [elizabeth.bennet@qed.com]
Date: August 14, 2014 1:15 AM
To: Anne de Bourgh [anne.debourgh@fdba.com]
Subject: Re: So

Yeah... you're probably right.

Posted on: 2014-06-12

"Thanks for seeing me, Ed."

Ed gave the younger man a long look - of annoyance tempered by resignation - before clearing his throat. "Will, won't you sit down? Can I offer you something to drink - a glass of water, perhaps?"

"No. I'm fine, thank you," said Darcy. "Your office space is impressive."

"It's nothing compared to Pemberley, of course, but I'm quite fond of it."

"There's a warmth about it. And an almost ruthless sense of efficiency."

Ed smiled. "Ayla and Liz will be pleased to hear you think so. They work very hard to keep this place running, you know. But I don't suppose you came all this way to admire our office space."

"No."

"I didn't think so."

"I'm here to ask you to sign the confidentiality agreement."

"Yes, Reynold told me to expect you."

"What else did he say?"

"That you're quite persuasive."

"He has a tendency to exaggerate my virtues."

"But you're here to prove him right."

"I guess so," said Darcy. "Ed - I know we're asking for a lot of trust here. The confi is dense and quite favorable to Pemberley. In a different world, you probably would not even entertain it...-"

"In a different world, I would have more hair," said Ed. "Unfortunately, we don't live in that world."

"No, we don't," said Darcy.

"I'm glad we are in agreement." Ed paused. "So are you just going to highlight the precariousness of our present circumstance or do you have anything more interesting to say?"

"I, uhh-- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply... -"

"Oh relax, Will," said Ed. "Just having some fun at your expense. If we are to work together, you must allow me the luxury of ill humor and the occasional bad joke."

Darcy smiled. "If we work together, I will be happy to consider all your requests."

"Consider?" said Ed. "And here I thought I was being wooed."

"You are," said Darcy.

"You certainly have an odd way of showing it."

Darcy laughed. "You're not the first person to tell me so."

"And likely not the last," said Ed. "So...- all joking aside, I read your confi."

"And?"

"I have some concerns."

"Ok. Care to elaborate?"

"Not yet. I must speak to my lawyers first. We should have a marked-up draft by tomorrow."

"Oh?" said Darcy.

"Yes - we can let the lawyers sort it out. I'm confident that this agreement is not going to be the gating item."

"Then what is?"

"Some sort of understanding or insight," said Ed. "Into your motivations, primarily. Will - you must see why this entire situation is so perplexing. QED needs help - not immediately, but in the near future. I've tried to avoid that truth for months now. Quite successfully, I might add. But when I got the call from Reynold, I knew I couldn't ignore it. Inquiries like this don't come very often. I'd have to be a fool to not at least consider the offer." Ed paused. "But what I don't understand is what you have to gain from QED? We're small. And as far as the news business is concerned, we're insignificant. So, what are you doing here?"

"That's a fair question."

"And please don't tell me it's confidential. I already heard that from Reynold. And I'm looking for some more substance. You said it yourself...- this is an act of trust. And I'd like your assurances that our trust is not being squandered on someone unworthy."

"I understand," said Darcy. "Perhaps a bit of background is in order?"

Ed just nodded in response.

"Right, ok," said Darcy. "Like I said the other day, I'm a huge fan of your work. I've followed you for years. In fact, I think you may be remembered as one of the most successful bureau chiefs in the history of NPR."

"That is too kind and entirely undeserved."

"Be that as it may, you captured my imagination, Ed," said Darcy. "And so, when I was faced with the overhaul of our news division, I naturally thought of you."

"Yes... overhaul. Reynold hinted at it as well. Consider me intrigued."

"It's not as exciting as it sounds. You are, of course, aware of the immense headwinds in our business," said Darcy. "The internet changed everything - and if the business is to survive in this century, new advertising and subscription models must follow."

"So far, nothing you've said is controversial."

"No. But maybe this is. I've been an absent leader. The winds of change have intensified into a hurricane, and I've done nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. Pemberley's TV news networks have fought for ratings by appealing to the lowest common denominator. Meanwhile, the newspapers have steadily lost subscriptions, and we still have no coherent online strategy."

"I don't know if that's fair," said Ed. "Some of your newspaper properties have successfully managed to erect paywalls."

"That's not enough - and you know it. There are so many innovative experiments on the web right now. Take TPM Prime or Andrew Sullivan, for example. Or that outfit Ezra Klein launched...- what is it called?"

"Vox?"

"Yes, Vox. Undoubtedly, some of those experiments will fail. But at least those organizations are not too timid to succeed. And that's exactly what Pemberley has been, what I've been. Timid. Cautious. Unimaginative." Darcy paused. "I've been so focused on preserving the legacy of my father that I've been far too afraid of failure. When I'm feeling charitable, I think that perhaps it was just my youth or inexperience. But I doubt that history will be as generous."

"Now, really, Will...-"

"It's sweet of you to even try to contradict me. You know it's true, it's all true. But don't feel too sorry for me. Pemberley, as a whole, is thriving. And the rest can be fixed," said Darcy. "It's been a year of introspection. And I had this epiphany one day. The Darcy name was built on newspapers...- and Pemberley will not have a legacy worth protecting if I allow its marquee news business to implode. It sounds so simple, doesn't it? But trust me, it wasn't obvious. I thought I was doing the prudent thing...- you know, incremental change, field-tested etcetera etcetera. I'm beginning to think I don't have the constitution for this high velocity world."

"Most of us don't," said Ed.

"Well, QED was probably just a business plan five years ago. Look how far you've come."

"Just enough subscribers to be dangerous, but not enough to survive without external funding," said Ed with a wry smile.

"Have you considered expanding your ad base?"

"Yes, of course. But I'm not sure it's worth it," said Ed. "Ad revenue is never going to be the same again...- ads alone can't sustain us. Unless we decide to sell our souls at the altar of sponsored content. And perhaps not even then. But it's a moot point. We would never do that. QED must maintain its integrity. That's the pact. And it's non-negotiable."

"I can see why Liz came to work for you."

"We share an idealism that borders on impracticality," said Ed. "Hers is still unspoiled by reality."

"And yours?"

"Mine was lost somewhere between the lawyers and accountants."

"It's not easy running a business."

"Tell me about it." Ed sighed. "That's why you're here, I suppose. To relieve me of the duties of running a business."

"No."

"No?"

"I'm afraid not," said Darcy. "I think I'd like you to help me run Pemberley News."

Ed laughed for a moment and then stopped when he saw the determined look on Darcy's face. "You can't be serious?"

"Why not?"

"You hardly know me."

"I know your work. Plus that's why we have diligence sessions."

"I don't know anything about running a large organization like Pemberley."

"Precisely."

"You're making no sense, Will."

"I think Pemberley News could benefit from some unconventional thinking. And you've proven yourself capable in that arena. QED has tens of thousands of paying subscribers. Think about that for a moment. A wonky, no-nonsense, online magazine about the Middle East has accomplished what BuzzFeed can't even imagine. It tells me that quality content can be monetized."

"Ok, but is it scalable? That's the question, isn't it?"

"Yes. And I don't know the answer to that. But I'm hoping we can find out together."

Ed was silent for a moment. "You wouldn't dismantle QED?"

"No, of course not. QED would be one of the key properties of the new Pemberley News. And hopefully, in time, we could expand its scope. Cover more areas of the world. Increase the use of data analytics. Consider cross-channel opportunities within Pemberley... like TV."

"And I'd still be able to run QED on a daily basis?"

Darcy nodded. "If you wish. I'm not asking you to take on any new roles, Ed. I'm promoting Reynold to the head of Pemberley News. And maybe you could start by becoming an advisor to me and Reynold...- just an informal one. We could figure out the right title...-"

"I don't care about titles."

"I assumed you wouldn't. Anyway, this can all be fairly organic. We don't have to make any drastic changes. I'd like for us to have a dialogue - and perhaps a few years from now, once you've had a chance to understand Pemberley from within, I could tempt you with a leadership role."

Ed arose from his seat and walked to the window. After a moment spent in contemplative silence, he turned to face Darcy. "I thought you said you had no vision."

Darcy smiled. "I'm atoning for my prior sins. Trying to, anyway."

"You're not at all what I expected."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," said Ed. "Well, Mr. Darcy, you certainly have my attention."

"That was the goal."

"May I share our conversation with Ayla and Liz?"

Darcy furrowed his brows. "I guess there's no way around it?"

"Don't let the gruff manners fool you. I'm not a dictator," said Ed. "Even signing the confi is a big step for us. And I'd really like to consult with my deputies."

"Ok, fine. But please remember - this was all strictly confidential. My lawyers would kill me if they knew I told you."

"Why did you?"

"I trust you."

"Well, you have my word, Will. We'll treat this information with respect."

"Ok." Darcy paused. "There is one more subject we need to discuss."

Ed tilted his head as he settled on the window sill. "Yes?"

"Liz."

"What about Liz?"

"I, ahh- I think she informed you of our...- well, of our prior acquaintance."

Ed nodded. "Yes."

"Well, I'd just like you to know that I had no idea Liz worked for you."

"Ok."

"I mean, I feel stupid. I must have never looked at the masthead or bylines properly. It seems implausible, I know, but it's the truth."

"Ok."

"I wouldn't want you to question my motivations or my interest in QED."

"Will - I said ok," said Ed, his natural irritability flaring. "I believe you."

"Oh."

"Anything else?"

"Just this - Liz and I have a history, and we can't erase it. But we will move past it. It will not affect her work. Or mine. We're both professionals. You have nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried about Liz," said Ed. "She can handle herself."

"But you're worried about me?" Darcy raised his eyebrow.

Ed shrugged. "Hard to say. I don't know you yet."

"You don't think I can be professional?"

"No, I'm sure you can."

"But?"

"It's a complicated situation. Let's just say I reserve the right to be cautious."

"That's your prerogative. I'm sorry that you're in this position."

"It's fine," said Ed. "Life has a sense of humor sometimes. Always best to just laugh along. But of course, that's easy for me to say."

"Yeah, I don't think Liz is laughing," said Darcy.

"I reckon you are," said Ed.

Darcy looked at Ed with a smile that threatened to blossom into a smirk. "I'd rather not say."

"That's fine with me. I'd prefer to not speak about this again."

"So...-" Darcy paused. "Is this going to be an issue between us?"

"No."

"I'm grateful for that. Thanks, Ed." Darcy stood up. "I should get going. I've taken up enough of your time already. Please call me if you want to chat."

"Thanks for your candor, Will. I appreciate it. We'll be in touch shortly." As Darcy began to walk to the door, Ed said, "Will?"

Darcy turned to Ed. "Yes?"

"Just so we're clear...- if I had to choose between you and Liz, I'd choose Liz."

Darcy nodded. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Posted on: 2014-07-21

Elizabeth yawned, the exhaustion from a long day of intense editing washing over her like a tidal wave. She stared at her computer screen for one more moment before deciding that the blurred words suggested that she needed a break. Her eyes watering and her joints aching, she stood up, stretched, turned on the TV and settled on BBC News. It seemed that there had been another car bomb in Homs. Elizabeth watched as a young reporter showed the camera the remnants of a once bustling neighborhood, a neighborhood where the shock of death seemed to have silenced the living. It felt oddly quiet, peaceful even. No crying relatives mourning the dead. No outraged citizens demanding justice. Perhaps they knew better. There was no justice in a world that could barely conceal its indifference. There was only the silent averting of eyes and the pretending that the cycle of violence would not repeat itself over and over until there were no more tears left to be shed. Or maybe they just knew the truth that no one else seemed willing to admit. Some lives simply mattered more than others.

Elizabeth remembered the scene of the first car bomb she had witnessed. It had smelled like death, like burned flesh and broken limbs, like bloody rubble and the rotten core of forgotten dreams. They had been pungent smells, urgent and unmistakable, demanding her attention, enveloping the air with the thick weight of injustice. No one had thought to warn her about the smells. She had fancied herself prepared for a war zone, but would find herself astonished every time at how messy death was, at how many painful scars a life interrupted could leave on an ancient landscape. Despite vivid memories of all that carnage - all the puddles of blood and charred debris - it was those smells that would dominate her senses and linger in her consciousness for an eternity. In a way, it had been gratifying to have a human response, to feel shock and horror and a profound sadness. But simply bearing witness to the unfathomable could not be enough. Her stolen moments of humanity would inevitably vanish into the morass of frustrated powerlessness. And the war would carry on.

That curse of inarguable inadequacy was the persistent struggle of her profession. It seemed like an act of courage, risking life and limb to bring attention to the dark corners of the human mind, where nobility was just a futile dream. But the acute pangs of guilt dislodged all such tidy narratives, and it was nearly impossible to shake the nagging suspicion that all the stories and photographs, no matter how well-intentioned, amounted to no more than the exploitation of another's misery. The struggle between chronicling the ills of the world and participating in the hunt for a cure was as old as journalism itself. It felt so unseemly that while the world burned in suffering, journalists got awarded Pulitzers for their trouble as though they were to be commended for doing a job that, at best, was a footnote in history. Elizabeth thirsted for change, for a measurable impact, for anything that would suggest that her efforts were not in vain. But that was, perhaps, just another kind of vanity, a sort of arrogance masked in a shroud of sincere concern. Her job, the one that she loved, had a purpose. Maybe her words were pointless footnotes in the troubled story of mankind, but at least they would be the truth. So that maybe - just maybe - history would not just be written by the victors.

"Liz?"

Elizabeth looked up to see Ayla standing at her door. "Yeah?"

"I've been trying to get your attention. Where are you?"

"Sorry," said Elizabeth. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Nothing."

"It's not nothing," said Ayla. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah. I was just...- thinking about this job. Reminding myself why I do it."

Ayla smiled. "Of course you were."

Elizabeth shrugged. "What do you want?"

"Are you about ready to go?"

"Go where?"

"Liz!"

"What?"

"It's 8. Thursday night. Does that ring a bell?"

Elizabeth looked confused for another moment before recognition dawned on her face. "Oh... yeah. Do I have to go?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm really busy, plus I hate this sort of thing and...-"

"What do you hate exactly? Drinks with colleagues? A night off? Fun?"

"Yes," said Elizabeth with a small smile. "To all three."

"Liz, this is important. We just told the staff about this Pemberley thing. Ed needs us there for morale. You know that. Will and Reynold are going to be there. It would look terrible if you didn't show up."

"Yeah, I know." Elizabeth sighed.

"Just come for an hour. That's all. Think you can manage that?"

Elizabeth just nodded in response.

Elizabeth and Ayla took a cab to Jaffa for the QED social hour. Sitting just south of Tel Aviv, the ancient port of Jaffa had a distinctive aura of old world charm with its winding maze of alleyways, sites of Biblical miracles and monuments that paid homage to its varied history. Boasting a delicate and largely peaceful coexistence of Arab and Jewish Israelis, Jaffa was undergoing a rapid gentrification as artists and yuppies alike were drawn by its heterogeneous population, multicultural feel and vibrant shops and restaurants. During the latest flare-up of violence in the unending conflict that defined the country, Jaffa had felt tense with empty streets and suffering businesses telling the tale of frayed nerves and unavoidable anxieties. With the cessation of the hostilities and a tentative truce enduring thus far, Jaffa seemed back to normal once again. At least until the next time. Thomas Mann once said that everything is politics, and that was particularly true in the Middle East. Elizabeth's decision to live in Jaffa was political. She chose to live there for the same reason she reveled in its return to vibrance; she wanted it to succeed. So that the world could see that what unites us is greater than what divides us. So that the bonds of humanity could win over the pernicious forces of hate. So that there could be hope for a lasting peace.

The Container was a waterfront bar and restaurant in the new port of Jaffa, a major tourist destination after extensive renovations seamlessly combined the old fisherman's look with contemporary design sensibilities. Fashioned after one of those shipping containers, the restaurant was an eclectic place with an inspired seafood menu, live music and an infectious vibe. The bar was made of the metal shell of a discarded container, the walls were graced by local art and the clientele was a mix of families and young people. It was not yet crowded, so it was relatively easy to spot the QED party. Darcy and Reynold were sitting in the corner surrounded by a handful of the QED staff, no doubt answering all kinds of eager questions. Elizabeth still did not know for certain what had transpired between Ed and Darcy, but it had been enough to convince Ed to take a leap of faith and trust Pemberley. Sure, she knew the factual details, but there was a subtle, yet unmistakable shift in Ed's attitude toward Pemberley, which seemed a lot more significant. At any rate, a week of lawyer negotiations and a signed confidentiality agreement later, Ed, Ayla and Elizabeth had called a staff meeting to relay the developments to the entire team. The news had been received with various levels of shock, anger and aplomb. No one had come to QED for financial security, so the prospect of being acquired by a large conglomerate such as Pemberley was foreign and daunting. Assurances had been made that no principles would be compromised, but the truth was that the future of QED had suddenly darkened to the point of murkiness. And all that remained in the place of unfettered independence was an uneasy battle for the very soul of the publication they had all come to worship.

Ayla went directly to greet Darcy and Reynold, and Elizabeth went to the bar to grab some drinks. While she was waiting for the drinks, Madelyn Gardiner walked up to her. Smiling, Elizabeth kissed the older woman on the cheek. "Good to see you, Madelyn. I didn't know you were coming."

"You're late, Liz. Is that husband of mine working you too hard?"

Elizabeth laughed. "No. I was lost in work, that's true, but it was hardly Ed's fault."

Madelyn smiled, her kind eyes brimming with a wisdom that suggested she knew the secrets of the universe. She was a novelist, modestly successful in telling stories of ordinary Britons doing extraordinary things in times of crisis. Her own father had served in the RAF during the war and her mother had survived the blitz of London, and so, young Madelyn had grown up hearing tales of abject terror, British resilience and the epitome of evil. She was less interested in the questions of good and evil than she was in the response of human beings to unnatural circumstances. And as luck would have it, she would spend a majority of her adult life in close proximity to all kinds of unnatural circumstances. She had met Ed in a cafe in Paris one summer more than thirty years ago - she researching a book, he covering a story - and they had been inseparable ever since. Married within six months, Ed and Madelyn would live the life of nomads - untethered from conventional responsibilities, traveling from one hotspot to another - until settling in Israel for good in 2008. She was his moral compass and he was her muse, and as Ed often joked half-seriously, she was the only thing keeping him from becoming unbearably insufferable. Theirs was a love affair born out of fairy tales, and there wasn't a single employee of QED who wasn't thankful for the existence of Madelyn Gardiner.

"You really ought to take some more time for yourself," said Madelyn. For a woman without kids, she was quite maternal. "I hear it's been a busy few weeks."

"It has," said Elizabeth, glancing at Darcy and Reynold. "Lots of changes on the horizon."

"Perhaps. It's still early, though, right?"

"Yeah. I guess so. I can't shake the feeling that it will be difficult to say no."

"It's always difficult to say no to money, dear," said Madelyn. "But Ed has done it successfully for decades now. I'd have a little more faith."

Elizabeth could not suppress a grin. "It's not that I don't trust him. I just...- well, let's just say, any offer from Pemberley would be extremely tempting. And I'm not sure it would be in our best interest to decline."

"That doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"I know. I know that intellectually. But emotionally...- I guess I'm just feeling cautious."

"Spoken like a true disciple of Ed," said Madelyn. "Don't let all his bad habits rub off on you."

"I could do much worse. He's led a remarkably successful life."

"I don't know, Liz," said Madelyn with a playful wink. "He's been stuck with me for decades."

"Best decision of his life," said Elizabeth. "He says so, unprompted, at least once a day."

Madelyn had to agree. "We've had a great run, I'm not going to lie. How different my life would have been without him. One chance meeting changed everything. But I suppose that's how it happens."

"I wouldn't know."

"You never do until much later," said Madelyn. She paused and watched her husband chatting animatedly with Darcy. Changing topics abruptly, she said, "Ed really likes him."

Elizabeth followed her line of sight. "Will?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, I would have to agree."

"He would never admit that, mind you."

"No."

"But he does. And he trusts him. He doesn't usually trust people this easily."

"I know."

"He thinks 'this boy,' as he likes to call him, is special."

"I hope he's right."

Madelyn turned and gave Elizabeth a long, searching look. "You don't think he is?"

Taken aback, Elizabeth fumbled for words. "I...- well, uhhh...-"

Taking pity on her, Madelyn said, "Ed doesn't keep secrets from me, Liz. I know."

"Oh." Elizabeth blushed. "Well, the truth is I've been impressed by how Will has conducted himself since he arrived in Tel Aviv. I mean, I've only really seen him once or twice in group meetings, but he seems sincere and engaged. So, I get what Ed sees in him."

"But?"

"I had a different impression of him. And it's hard to overcome past prejudices."

"Everyone deserves a second chance."

"Indeed. Especially if the first impressions were based on a faulty foundation." Elizabeth paused. "I know I was wrong about him. I can see that now. It's just taking me some time to adjust to the new realities. And we still have some unfinished business to address."

Madelyn nodded sympathetically. "I imagine it's all a bit tricky."

"Yes, well, it's not much of an excuse, though, is it?" said Elizabeth, suddenly feeling frustrated with herself. "I'm so tired of making excuses for myself, Madelyn. I know what needs to be done. And I'm going to do it. But I don't want anyone - especially Ed - to think I'll start fawning over Will just to atone for my past mistakes. I don't know if he's special. I don't know if Pemberley is right for us. I have to keep my head clear to see the truth. We can't afford any mistakes. Not right now."

"Ed would trust you with his life, Liz," said Madelyn. "He believes in you. Never worry about that. You put QED's interests first. Even above your own, especially above your own. Do you know how rare that is? You're going to do the right thing. I'm not the least bit concerned. And neither is Ed."

"Thanks," said Elizabeth with a sigh. "I guess I can't hide here forever. I better go say hello."

"Yes." Madelyn laughed. "Otherwise Ed will accuse me of trying to monopolize you."

With one last smile at Madelyn, Elizabeth walked over to the rest of the group and spent the next hour being charming and witty for the good of her team and publication. There had been some discussion of unwanted press attention, but that problem had been solved relatively easily when Ayla had reminded the room that no one really knew anything about QED. And in the off chance that some dogged reporter picked up the increased contact between Pemberley and QED, the cover story was that Pemberley was interested in obtaining the movie rights to Ed's life story. Ed was, after all, a minor celebrity in the world of Middle East journalism, so the cover was not as ridiculous as it first appeared. With those concerns assuaged, the Pemberley duo seemed to be in excellent spirits. Elizabeth found that she quite liked the effortlessly affable Reynold, who had come prepared with humorous anecdotes meant to humanize the behemoth entity that he represented. And then there was Will. She was still waiting for the reappearance of the taciturn and occasionally haughty Will she has known in New York. But either he was gone for good or had never really existed for the reasons she had imagined. Instead, she was faced with a pleasant Will, full of easy manners and awkward jokes, undeniably eager to please. He spoke to even the lowest level staffer at QED with the kind of respect he would not have managed just a year ago. Something had changed, and instead of satisfying Elizabeth, that fact only intensified her curiosity.

After the requisite time had passed, Elizabeth took her leave and walked out of the restaurant. She stood, motionless, in the hot and humid night, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. It was almost impossible to breathe, the oppressive air unaided by even a hint of a breeze. Elizabeth did not seem to notice, her attention focused solely on the latest headlines. In fact, she was so engrossed in her phone that she did not hear the footsteps behind her until the owner of said footsteps cleared his throat. She turned around to see Darcy and her color heightened instantly. He seemed to be studying her, a bemused smile playing on his lips. She had not spoken to him alone since their drinks at the Montefiore, and despite all the frantic thoughts rummaging in her mind, she could think of almost nothing to say. He was not in a rush to speak either, it seemed, his relaxed stance suggesting relative comfort in their conspicuous silence. And thus they stood, a pair of would-be lovers, old adversaries who were not quite friends, potential colleagues whose relationship was ill-defined by any one label. And Elizabeth thought that labels had never felt so necessary before.

"Hey," she finally said.

"Hey," he said. "You heading home?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I have some work to do, but I'm going to log back in at home."

"Where do you live?"

She hesitated momentarily before saying, "Not far from here. I'm just going to walk."

Darcy thought for a second. "Can I walk you home?"

Elizabeth tried not to look shocked. "You want to walk with me in this weather?"

"Yeah. If you don't mind."

"It's really quite safe, Will. I can walk by myself."

"I'm sure it is," said Darcy. "But I'd like to walk with you anyway. If it's all the same to you."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Fine. But you can't blame me when you sweat through your shirt."

"Deal." Darcy smiled.

Elizabeth noticed yet again how handsome he looked when he smiled and wished he would stop smiling so much. They walked in silence for a few minutes. "Did you enjoy meeting the staff?"

"Yes, definitely," said Darcy. "A really smart, energetic bunch. Asked us some tough questions."

Elizabeth almost beamed with pride. "I know I'm biased, but they really are the best in the business."

"You can't teach passion."

"No."

"But I guess you already knew that."

Elizabeth glanced at him. "Well, thankfully you can teach prudence. Something I could have used earlier in my career."

"You have good instincts."

"Oh, come on, Will. You're already walking me home. You don't need to also ply me with false compliments."

"I don't believe in sayings things I don't mean," said Darcy, his voice suddenly serious.

Uncertain of the right response, Elizabeth took a playful tone. "That seems like an easy story to fact-check, Will. You should know better than to make sweeping claims in front of a journalist."

"I'm not afraid," said Darcy.

"Nor should you be. I'm feeling a lot fairer these days."

Darcy looked at her for a second. "For that, I'm grateful."

Elizabeth held his gaze for a moment and then looked away. She said no more, and within another five minutes, they were at her front door. As she looked at the sweat-drenched man beside her, suddenly it was abundantly clear what had to be done. "Will?"

"Yes?"

"This is me."

"Right."

"Thanks for walking me home."

"Of course."

"You didn't have to."

"I know."

"Then why did you?"

"I wanted to."

"Oh." Elizabeth bit her lips. "Will?

"Yes?"

"Want to come up for coffee?"

"What?"

"Or tea. On ice, if you prefer."

"What?" Darcy repeated.

"Or beer. I think I may have some beer."

Darcy stared at her, his face incredulous. "You want me to come up?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I think it's time we talked."

"I thought we already talked."

"Yes. Politely. Like strangers. We weren't that polite even when we were strangers."

"Ok...-" Darcy said tentatively.

"I just...- I need to say some things to you. I think it'll be better once I do. Right now I'm treading water. Like I can't say what I think. I don't want to give the wrong impression to anyone. And maybe that's because I never really said what I wanted to that last time." Elizabeth paused. "Is this making any sense?"

Darcy smiled. "No."

"Stop smiling. You're distracting me."

"Ok."

Elizabeth sighed. "Just come up, ok? I promise I won't poison you or anything. You'll have a drink, and we'll talk. Please?"

"Sure, Liz. Anything you want."

With that, he followed her up to her apartment in silence.

Posted on: 2014-08-17

Elizabeth had the apartment of a journalist - small, inexpensive, untidy, virtually uninhabited, overrun by notes and papers, the only personal traces of her appearing in the form of a laptop and two framed pictures. One was of her family and the other of Anne and Richard. The Bennet family portrait was from Christmas 2002 and consisted of the entire family sporting mildly exasperated smiles and matching sweaters her mother had insisted on knitting that year. Elizabeth cherished this picture. She would go to Iraq the following year, so this was the last portrait of her family truly happy, blissfully unaware of the chaos that was to come. This picture would travel with her everywhere - to Baghdad and Basra, to Landstuhl and DC, to New York and Tel Aviv. It was a reminder of a time marked by innocence and idealism, by naivete and ambition. Elizabeth had come a long way since then, but she never wanted to forget what it was like to be 22 and hopeful. Elizabeth offered Darcy a seat on the couch as she cleared away empty takeout containers. Her brilliant plan already felt woefully insufficient. She would say all the words that had plagued her for months, but had no strategy for what was to follow. It seemed worth the risk, however. No pretense of peace was worth the knowledge of the unresolved hurt and the unacknowledged aid.

Steeling herself, Elizabeth delved into unknown territory. "Now that I've lured you up here with the promise of a drink, I suppose I really ought to offer you something."

Darcy smiled. "Only if you're still feeling generous."

"I'm not as fickle as you seem to think, Will." Elizabeth walked over to the fridge. "Beer ok?"

"Anything cold will do. You weren't exaggerating...- this heat is overpowering."

Elizabeth returned with two beers and handed one to Darcy. Sitting down on the couch next to him, she said, "First time here in the summer, I take it?"

"I think so, yes."

"It gets better."

"How do you manage?"

"I remind myself that there are people living in these conditions without air conditioning."

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to sound so sanctimonious."

"You're not sanctimonious, Liz."

"You're hardly impartial, Will. I mean, you're courting QED. I wouldn't expect you to insult its deputy managing editor."

Darcy's eyes gleamed. "And it's not as though I've ever upended your expectations."

"Can't argue with that," said Elizabeth with a small smile. "I'm deeply uncomfortable with the concept of my own suffering. It feels so vain to complain about the trivial inconveniences in my life when I've been afforded so much privilege. I look around and see all the real suffering in this world. And the rest just seems like details. I always thought of this particular proclivity as a quirk of sorts, but it turns out that repression can be toxic to your mental health." She paused, then cleared her throat. "I've never admitted that in front of anyone. Not outside of therapy."

"I...-" Darcy fumbled for words. "I'm touched that you would share that with me."

Elizabeth looked at him, her gaze intense. "If not you, then who, Will? You're the reason I can say those words out loud."

"I...- don't understand."

"You cannot honestly be so wholly ignorant of the impact you've had on me."

"I can. And I am."

"Anne never said a word? Or Richard?"

"No. They are both quite invested in the idea of impartiality. And disengagement. They don't want to be involved. And really, can you blame them? I wouldn't want to take sides, either. We can both be...- formidable, let's say."

"Yes. Well, you're family. I never expected them to withstand your powers of persuasion."

"Your friendship rivals my claims of blood. And I'd prefer to not face you in a battle for their affection."

Elizabeth tilted her head as though she were issuing a challenge. "Afraid you'd lose?"

Darcy nodded. "Absolutely. As I very well should. They adore you, Liz. I hope you know that."

"I do. But it's still good to hear," said Elizabeth. "I guess it's highly egotistical to expect that you'd be inquiring about me at all. Or that you'd still care."

Darcy did not speak immediately and when he did, his voice was low. "I care, Liz. I've always cared."

"Oh." No other response seemed adequate.

"I'm just painfully conscious of my limitations. And I'd rather not overstep any boundaries."

"What limitations?"

"I am incapable of divining your feelings toward me. So a touch of caution seems prudent. But you should never mistake my silence for indifference."

Elizabeth bit her lips. "I don't know what to say, Will."

"Well, you could begin by relieving me of my ignorance," said Darcy, a small smile on his face. "Isn't that a favorite pastime of yours?"

"I don't recall you being this sassy."

"Maybe you just don't know me."

His words sounded like the grievous accusation she knew she deserved. "You're right. I don't."

Darcy's smile evaporated as he did not receive the clever retort he was clearly expecting. "Now you're scaring me. Tell me what's wrong, Liz. Please?"

Elizabeth sighed. "You remember that night in Sun Valley?"

"Of course. How could I forget?"

"It changed me forever. You changed me forever."

Darcy furrowed his brows. "Changed you how? I'm sorry, but you must stop speaking in code."

"That night you exposed all my woeful inadequacies - my pretenses of journalistic objectivity, my questionable judgment, my misdirected rage."

"Liz, I really...-"

"No. Please let me finish. I misjudged you, Will. There's really no way around that fact. I made baseless accusations and said some hateful things. I can't even remember my words without wanting to die."

"Not all your accusations were baseless."

"Some solace that is."

"Liz, what did you say of me that I didn't deserve? Although your accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, there was truth in all your reproofs."

"That hardly absolves me of my sins."

"But it lessens their severity, don't you think?"

"No."

"You're determined to vilify yourself."

"Yes."

"Even though I was there and can directly refute your claims?"

"Yes."

Darcy shook his head. "You exhaust me."

"I'm just getting started."

"Then I might need another beer."

Elizabeth obliged by fetching another beer and placing it on the table in front of him, next to his half-empty drink. "I don't see the point in discussing this any further. No impartial judge would have found my conduct acceptable. But I don't care about the judgment of others."

"I didn't think you would."

"I just care about yours. I'd like to ask for your forgiveness."

Darcy almost choked on his beer. "My forgiveness?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Will. I'm sorry about all of it. Will you forgive me?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

"Liz, you really think that you are the one that needs to apologize for that night?"

"I am only responsible for my own behavior."

"So you agree my behavior was unpardonable as well?"

"Look, Will, let's not fight over whose conduct was more abhorrent. I think it's safe to say that it was a dark evening for us both."

"Yes. Yes, it was."

"So... will you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive."

"Will..."

"I think this is madness, but fine...- yes, I forgive you," said Darcy. "Feel better?"

"Much," said Elizabeth. "Isn't it easier when you're not arguing with me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I've been meaning to apologize to you for almost a year now. I wanted to reach out to you."

"Then why didn't you?"

"You never gave me the opportunity. I didn't see you again until you showed up in Tel Aviv, remember?"

"I didn't know if you wanted to see me."

"Yes," said Elizabeth. "I can see why you might have had that impression."

"Yeah."

"I must have written you a thousand emails, but I couldn't get myself to hit send. I thought you might hate me, and it felt...- I don't know, presumptuous or intrusive to force an interaction that you were clearly avoiding."

"I was avoiding you."

"I know."

"But I didn't hate you. Why would I hate you?"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrow. "Shall we recap that evening again?"

"No, thanks," said Darcy. "I was angry at first. And sad. Maybe a bit confused. But there was never any hate."

"Of course you'd say that," said Elizabeth, rising from the couch and walking to the window. When she turned around, her face showed a flash of annoyance. "All I had to offer was hate. And yet, you still managed kindness in return. Why, Will? How is that possible?"

Darcy's voice was calm and his tone inscrutable. "I was coming from a different place."

Elizabeth sighed. "I guess you were."

"You really had no idea?" asked Darcy.

"No."

"I thought...- well, I thought you knew."

"I didn't."

"Yes, I get that now. But it wasn't so obvious to me then."

"Will, when I'm flirting with you, trust me, you'll know," said Elizabeth with a feeble smile. She returned to the couch and stared at the floor as she said, "I'm sorry I hurt you. It wasn't intentional. I had no idea you felt that way about me."

"It makes sense in retrospect," said Darcy. "But at the time I thought you were waiting for me to make a move. You'll think I'm so arrogant, but I'd convinced myself that you returned those feelings."

"Really?" Elizabeth looked up at Darcy.

Darcy sat a bit taller and smiled. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a catch."

Elizabeth laughed. "So everyone tells me."

"I guess that's what attracted me to you in the first place. You never seemed impressed."

"I wasn't."

"Yes, all helpful information that I somehow neglected to gather."

"You couldn't have known."

"I didn't try very hard, Liz. To understand your perspective. I did everything wrong that night."

"Not everything," said Elizabeth. "You wrote me a letter."

"I wrote you a letter," Darcy repeated. "Did you read it?"

"I have it memorized."

Darcy could not conceal his surprise. "Oh?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Your handwriting is excellent."

"Useful life skill these days."

"Penmanship is a lost art."

"Yeah," said Darcy. "So what did you think of it?"

"Your letter?"

"Yeah."

"It was illuminating."

"Did it...- did it soon make you think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its contents?"

"You don't get it, do you?" said Elizabeth. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. Really inarticulately, apparently. Your letter changed my life, Will. You can't imagine what it was like. Reading it word by word. And realizing - slowly - what I had done. Who I had become. I didn't believe it at first. I didn't want to. If you weren't the villain I had conjured in my head, then nothing would make sense anymore."

"I was just trying to set the record straight. I had no intentions beyond that."

"I know. I get it. I hurled all sorts of accusations at you. You had to defend yourself."

"I'd already given you enough reasons to hate me. I couldn't afford an unfortunate misunderstanding."

"Or outright lies."

"Yeah." Darcy agreed.

Elizabeth avoided his eyes as she said, "I'll never forgive myself for believing George."

"Please don't waste your energy on him. He is unusually adept at playing the victim."

Elizabeth looked up at him. "But I'm a journalist. I know better. I should have checked his so-called facts. I didn't."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"No, Will. Let's not mince words. It was a real screw-up."

"Well...-"

"No. There are no tidy explanations. I wanted to hate you, so I believed whatever facts George fed me and imagined the rest. It wasn't about you at all. It was about me. The truth is that I was stuck. Broken. Call it PTSD or whatever you'd like. But I was in this wretched place. Immobile. Suffocating. Kind of how I imagine it feels to be buried alive. It's hard to explain." Elizabeth paused. "Sorry, you don't want to hear this."

"No, I do. Please continue."

Elizabeth was not convinced. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Well, the worst of it was that I didn't know. I mean, I knew. Something was wrong. Missing. But I just assumed it was normal. You know, part of getting blown up in a war zone. I'd signed up for it, after all. Hardly seemed right to complain."

"Oh Liz," said Darcy.

"See I told you," said Elizabeth, the color rising in her cheeks. "You don't have to listen to this. I have a shrink. Someone who gets paid a whole lot of money to listen to me."

"Liz." Darcy leaned closer to her and squeezed her hand. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be right now."

Elizabeth did not speak immediately, surprised by his intimate gesture. She caught his gaze and realized he had done it unconsciously. "Your idea of fun continues to amaze me, Will Darcy."

"You don't see what I see."

"No, I don't," said Elizabeth. Realizing that his hand had betrayed him, Darcy blushed as he withdrew to his corner of the couch. Elizabeth cleared her throat to dispel the awkwardness and said, "Anyway, the point is that I was a miserable human being and didn't even know it. Not really. Or I didn't want to face it. I don't know. Not sure it makes a difference one way or another. But you opened my eyes, and suddenly I couldn't hide anymore. I had to face it all. All the lies I'd told myself. To survive. To make it through another day. It all came crashing down. I was not fine. And I had to get help."

"Did you?"

"Get help? Yeah. I told you. I have a shrink. She's brilliant."

"Good."

"It took a little prodding to get me to talk."

"Not surprising."

"Yes. But when I finally did, it was a relief. To confess at last the things I knew I was not supposed to feel. It was liberating."

"There's no right way to feel."

"Yeah, you think that. But it's not true. There is a wrong way to respond to adversity. You can bury all your thoughts deep inside your head and look away and hope the demons don't come looking for you. But they always do. That's how you end up with a desk job you hate. Angry. Bitter. Ready to despise the next media mogul who comes into your life. Willing to believe the vicious lies of a psychopath."

"Hardly an accurate picture. You were much more than that."

"Was I?"

"Yes."

"Your taste in women needs serious improvement."

"Why don't you let me worry about that?"

"Will?"

"Yes?"

"I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you. I know you weren't trying to fix me or anything. But you did. Your words started a chain reaction, and I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. And for that, I will be forever grateful."

"I don't deserve your gratitude."

"Accept it, anyway. Please? It would mean a lot to me."

"Ok. You're welcome, Liz," said Darcy. "Satisfied?"

"Say it like you mean it."

"But I don't."

"Will!"

Darcy sighed. "You're not the kind of person who relies on others. You're so strong. I think you can do anything. So I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you to ask for help. And I'm really proud of you. For doing the things that make you uncomfortable. You may think it makes you weak, but in mind, it only makes you stronger. I'm sure it's been a tough journey. But I'm glad I was able to contribute in some small way. You've taught me so much, Liz. It's an honor to return the favor." Darcy paused. "There, now do you approve?"

"Yes," said Elizabeth, fighting back the tears. "You're off the hook."

"You certainly know how to win an argument."

"That's what I do best."

"May I ask a personal question?" said Darcy.

"Sure."

"How...- how are you now?"

Elizabeth smiled. "You mean, am I less crazy these days?"

"That's not what I mean."

"I know," said Elizabeth. "Fine. I'm fine. No, that's a lie. I'm more than fine. I'm great. I'm back doing the job I've always loved. And what better place to do it than QED? I'm living life on my own terms again. It's such a gift...- frankly, it's intoxicating. I'm more honest with myself. And I'm trying to learn from my mistakes. Don't get me wrong, I'm not all fixed. Dr. Matthews hates it when I use that word, but you won't tell her, will you?"

"No."

"I'm beginning to like you, Will."

"That's all it takes?" said Darcy. "Shameless pandering?"

"Pretty much," said Elizabeth. "I still have the occasional bad day, but I guess that's normal. And now, I have a much better set of coping skills."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"You've been a big part of this journey without even knowing it," said Elizabeth. "It feels good to share this with you. Thanks for indulging me."

"Anytime."

"Not what you were expecting when you walked up here, I bet."

"I wasn't sure what to expect."

"I couldn't keep pretending that I had nothing to say. I hope you can see that now."

"Yes." Darcy said nothing further.

"Oh god," said Elizabeth, disconcerted by his terse response. "You're angry that I burdened you with all my pointless drivel?"

"No," said Darcy. "Stop saying things like that. It's really strange to hear anything but supreme confidence from you."

"It was a risk. I didn't exactly ask for your permission. I just launched into this conversation like I was entitled to your attention."

"Asking for permission is not your style."

"No, it's not, is it?" Elizabeth chuckled. "Well, I want you to know that I've struggled with this since you showed up here. Like you, I was worried about the boundaries. I didn't want to bring up memories that are undoubtedly unpleasant for both of us. But there's no other way forward for us. I couldn't move on without some kind of closure. Without saying the things that have haunted me for months. And this is going to sound strange...- but we've shared this intensely emotional space before. So I thought that maybe it was ok to go there again. Was it?"

"Ok?"

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"I will point out that you offered sufficient encouragement."

Darcy smiled. "I did."

"Did you ever think your letter would have such a profound impact?"

"No. But you are exaggerating my contributions."

"I am not prone to exaggeration."

Darcy looked at her in silence for a moment. "When I wrote that letter, I thought I was calm and cool. But in hindsight, I think I must have been quite bitter."

"No. You were warm and generous. If there was any bitterness, you concealed it rather admirably."

"That's a relief, I guess. I just wanted...- you to understand. And I hoped you would find me just a little less objectionable."

"Well, you were successful."

"So... you don't hate me anymore?" His voice was tentative, almost shy.

"No," said Elizabeth, her heart breaking as the pain flickered across his face. "Will, haven't you been paying attention?"

"I have," said Darcy. "But I guess I just needed another confirmation."

"Then I've failed. I was hopeful my recent civility would overwhelm the memories of my prior dislike."

"That's impossible. I can never forget. I don't want to forget."

"Will, I'm sorry."

"No, please. Don't apologize. It was a gift. That night changed me too."

"Really?"

Darcy nodded. "It's been a painful year, Liz. I've been tortured by your words, haunted by the reality of who I'd become. An arrogant, self-assured, callous human being who thought he was better than others."

"I was wrong."

"No, you weren't," said Darcy firmly. "Maybe the premises of your specific grievances were untrue, but my behavior at the time was unforgivable. I've been a selfish being all my life. In practice, though not in principle. As a child, I was taught what was right. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately, an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoiled by my parents, who, though good themselves, allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing - to care for none beyond my own circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own."

"You weren't so bad."

"This heat must be making you delirious. Liz, I asked you out while insulting you, your job, your family. I told you I was acting against my better judgment."

That elicited a smile from Elizabeth. "Not the most compelling offer I've ever received."

"And I had the audacity to be surprised that you rejected me."

"Well, you are Will Darcy. I don't suppose many women would have rejected you."

"Yes, I am a Darcy. I come from one of the most prominent families in the world. My uncle is a Senator. My media enterprise is almost unparalleled. All my life I've been accustomed to a certain amount of reverence - genuine or feigned."

"And then you meet this disestablishmentarian."

"I couldn't believe it at first. You were so unaffected by me. It seemed impossible. And then I realized you honestly did not care about my name, my title, my family. It was so liberating. I could speak to you as a normal person. I can't remember the last time that happened to me."

"Speak is a misnomer. I mostly remember shouting."

"Passionately debating. That's how I remember it. And I loved every minute of it."

"You're odd."

Darcy ignored her comment. "I was so impressed with myself, I couldn't fathom the notion that someone might find me unacceptable. I've been an arrogant, insufferable fool my whole life. And I might have still been that fool but for you, Liz. You taught me how to be the kind of man I wanted to be, the kind of man who could someday be worthy of someone like you."

"Someone like me? I'm not perfect, Will."

Darcy looked at her for a moment, then said, "You're close."

"How can you say that after everything I've told you tonight?"

"Tonight changes nothing. If anything, I respect you more."

"You're crazy."

"I've been wrong about a lot of things in my life. But not this."

"I...-" Elizabeth could not find the words. "Thanks, Will."

"No, thank you. I'm the one in eternal debt. By you I was properly humbled. When I ran into you at Pemberley, I had one objective. To show you that I had listened to you, that I had changed. That I was capable of civility, of decency, of humanity. I hoped to lessen your hatred. But above all, I hoped to obtain your forgiveness. I'm so sorry, Liz. I really can't apologize enough. I can't think of my behavior in New York and Sun Valley without shame. Can you ever forgive me?"

"You're already forgiven, Will."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"You do."

"I don't, but I'm grateful for your magnanimity," said Darcy. "Do you remember what you said that night about Pemberley?"

"I said a lot of things. I've tried to forget them all."

"You told me that I lacked vision or courage or maybe both."

"Please don't repeat what I said."

"You were right."

"Oh?"

"I have lacked vision and courage. I've been so focused on preserving my father's legacy, on preserving the status quo that I've been slow to adapt to the changes in our business. Pemberley has lagged in innovation and missed all the big ideas. I'm determined to fix that."

"Is that why you're here?"

Darcy nodded. "QED is a first step. And it's a tough, long road ahead. I have no illusions about that."

"It may not work, Will. None of this may work."

"I know. But the Darcy name was built on newspapers. I won't let us implode without a fight."

"I respect that."

"I want you to know I'm not here because of you. I didn't know you worked at QED. I'm not doing this to impress you."

"I know."

"I'm doing it for me, Liz. Because you were right when you said I have the power to change the world. I was born with the burden and privilege of the Darcy name. And I'm not going to squander the opportunity to make a difference."

"A worthy goal."

"You inspired me, Liz. In every way that a man can be inspired."

"I had no idea my words would make such a strong impression."

"I can easily believe it. You thought me devoid of every proper feeling."

"I was wrong about you, Will. We can argue about your frailties - without which none of us would be human - but I was wrong about the important things."

"You were more right than wrong."

"Debatable," said Elizabeth. "There is one thing I got right."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"Your unwavering love for Pemberley. I admire what you're trying to do now. But even when I disagreed with the direction of your company, I respected your fierce loyalty, your palpable pride in what you'd built."

"I didn't build Pemberley," said Darcy. "It's been the work of generations."

"Did you always want to work there?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you were a kid, did you want to be in the media business?"

"You're the first person to ask me that, Liz."

"Really?"

"I was destined to succeed my father as CEO of Pemberley. That's been clear since the day I was born."

"But is that what you wanted?" Elizabeth pressed.

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does."

"Being a Darcy comes with certain responsibilities. My wishes are entirely besides the point."

"But what did Will, the boy want to be when he grew up?"

Darcy smiled. "An astronaut."

"Yeah?"

"I know it's cliche, but I grew up watching Cosmos. Carl Sagan was a personal hero. I've always been intrigued by space, by the idea of a universe so vast that our entire existence is inconsequential."

"Did you consider it as an option?"

"Becoming an astronaut? No. It wasn't an option."

"I see."

"I love Pemberley," said Darcy. "And I have no regrets."

"You're always so responsible."

"You mean boring."

"No, I mean responsible."

"I think you called me predictable once."

"Did I? Well, it's not a bad thing. I find it admirable. I doubt I would have been so altruistic in your shoes."

"I'm not sure it was altruism that drove me. I've always been acutely aware of history, of my family's place in it. It is my duty to ensure Pemberley's continued success."

"Well, Pemberley is lucky to have you." Elizabeth paused. "I'm glad we talked, Will."

"Me too."

"I was just hoping to clear the air, so we could work together."

"But?"

"I don't know. It's strange. I know we're not close, but I feel like I can tell you things, like you'll understand."

"You can always tell me anything," said Darcy.

"This is what I mean," said Elizabeth. "You make me feel safe. Like I can tell you all the horrid things I've been through, and you won't look at me with pity and contempt. It's like I know you on a visceral level, even though I don't know you at all. Has it always been this way? Was I just too blind to see it?"

"I don't know."

"I'd like to know you."

"You would?"

"Very much. I think we could be friends."

"Friends?" Darcy seemed skeptical.

"I realize we have a complicated history," said Elizabeth. "So I understand if you'd prefer to maintain a strictly professional relationship."

"No," said Darcy. "I'd like to be friends."

"You can sleep on it, Will. I didn't mean to ambush you."

"I don't need to sleep on it."

"Ok. I should mention one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"Our friendship will not dissuade me from doing what's right for QED."

Darcy smiled. "I would not want to be your friend if it did." There was silence in the room for a few moments, then Darcy looked at his watch. "It's late. I should go."

"Yeah."

"Thanks for inviting me up, Liz."

"It was my pleasure," said Elizabeth. And she meant it.

Elizabeth walked Darcy to the door. He gave her another smile and said, "I'll see you soon. Good night."

Elizabeth watched him walk to the stairs. Before he disappeared from view, she yelled his name. He turned around and she said, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you so nice to me?" She regretted her words the moment they escaped her.

Darcy did not hesitate. "You're a once in a lifetime human being, Liz." And then, he was gone.

Posted on: 2014-10-16

Elizabeth opened the monthly newsletter from the Committee to Protect Journalists and after scanning the articles for a few minutes, turned her attention to the data and research section. 1,080 journalists killed since 1992. 40 in 2014. 66% the victims of murder. It was a ritual of sorts, this periodic reminder of the sobering condition of contemporary journalism. The dangers were not new, but the landscape had changed, banishing the conventional norms of decency to the realm of uneasy nostalgia, where the passage of time would begin to challenge the notion that a more civilized era ever existed. The change had been as gradual and persistent as rust invading unsuspecting metal, imperceptible at first and then suddenly impossible to ignore. Gone were the days when journalists were the chroniclers of unfolding history, perhaps not consistently dispassionate and objective, often a nuisance to the subjects of their stories, but never the targets of deliberate violence. And now? Now a reporter was just another enemy combatant, expendable and disposable, a pawn in the unending wars between rival gangs and politicians and nations. It was daunting to be so thoroughly dispossessed, without the protection of a state, hanging on the edge of the covenant of society. But if so much of the world had to exist at the intersection of cruelty and indifference, then perhaps it was only fitting that no one was immune.

It took a certain recklessness to be a reporter in a conflict zone, to speak up when others were afraid, to confront the entrenched narrative and dismantle it one story at a time. From the drug wars of Latin America to the civil wars of Africa to the disintegration of the old order of the Middle East, the truth was built on the graves of countless reporters who would not allow history books to be populated by the propaganda of the victors. It amused Elizabeth to no end to hear popular characterizations of reporters in war zones as fearless. Reporters were not fearless. They were afraid almost constantly. And with that fear came a healthy dose of paranoia and obsession and idealism and rage. In different circumstances, that could be a volatile cocktail of emotions, but when fueled by the adrenalin, by the sheer thrill of war, it was magic. Elizabeth had always resisted the idea of war as sport. She resented the implication that she chased stories in dangerous settings for the adventure and the highs. It was much easier to believe in the nobility of her convictions, the selflessness of her actions, the purity of her intentions. Dylan had often mocked her indignant certainty as the stubborn delusions of a young idealist who could not bear to face the true nature of her soul. And he had been right. She was not afraid to admit it anymore. From the first moment she had set foot in Baghdad all those years ago, she had been seduced by the thrill of the chase, by the allure of a story that was so dangerous that only she could tell it. It was a shameful admission at first. She did not want to be that kind of reporter, but she found solace in the realization that all that idealism and passion and righteousness could not exist in a vacuum. Without the adrenalin, there would be no stories, no witnesses, no records. And the purity of her soul was but a small sacrifice.

Elizabeth glanced at her watch and realized it was time for her meeting with Ed. It honestly felt like they had convened more meetings in the past few weeks than the previous six months combined. She tried to not let it sour her toward the Pemberley process, but her patience was already fading. With a sigh that sounded like a groan, she stood up and walked over to Ed's office. Ayla was already inside and from the tone of her voice, complaining about something.

"It's simply outrageous. They can't get away with it, can they?" said Ayla.

Ed looked up to see Elizabeth enter his office. "They can."

"What's wrong?" said Elizabeth.

"Our landlord is a bloodthirsty, soulless, greedy monster of a corporation," said Ayla.

"The rent hike that bad?" said Elizabeth.

Ayla nodded. "You don't want to know."

"Yeah. I definitely don't."

"So." Ed cleared his throat. "Can we move on to the business at hand?"

"From one soulless corporation to another? Sure, why not?" Elizabeth smirked.

Ed gave her a sharp look, then said, "Pemberley is anxious to start the diligence process. Reynold has a few of his people briefed on the situation. They are ready to go."

"Ok," said Ayla. "What do you need from us?"

"I need your cooperation," said Ed. "Ayla - since you handle more of the business side of things, you will take Reynold and his team through our marketing plan, our financials and our subscriber data."

"Ok."

"And Liz - you will take Will through the anatomy of our publication."

Elizabeth frowned. "What does that mean?"

"He wants to understand our process. How do we arrive at our stories? How do those stories go from idea to prose? What makes our insights special or unique?"

"I'm still not sure I understand."

"Look, there are literally hundreds of small publications Pemberley could purchase. Why QED? Why now?"

"That's for Pemberley to answer. I'm not sure I am qualified to have an opinion on that question."

"But you are. You oversee the creative pulse of this publication. And you can help Pemberley understand our philosophy, our worldview, our DNA. So they can see why QED needs to exist."

"Ok. All of that still sounds vague to me. What does he want exactly?"

"I don't know. He's going to stop by your office this afternoon to discuss a game plan."

"Ed, I'm really busy," said Elizabeth.

"Well, you'll make time for him. I can take over the story you're working on if you're overwhelmed."

"No!" said Elizabeth. "It's fine. I'll manage."

"Good," said Ed with a satisfied smile on his face. "Is there anything else?"

"No, Ed," said Ayla.

"No," said Elizabeth.

"Splendid. Then consider this meeting adjourned. See? I am a man of my words. I promised this whole Pemberley affair would not take too much of our time."

Elizabeth did not look convinced. "That sounds an awful lot like an opinion pretending to be a fact."

A soft, but authoritative knock on her door roused Elizabeth from her state of deep concentration. She looked up to find Darcy standing in the hallway, the now familiar bemused smile gracing his face. She had not seen him since their exhaustive tete-a-tete almost a week ago. She felt her cheeks flush with the memory of that night, of all the liberties taken and the words spoken. It still felt like uncertain ground, this truce of theirs built on the shoulders of painful scars and once intractable differences. But perhaps in such cases as these, a good memory was unpardonable. With their past so fraught with uncivil indignities, the only sane alternative seemed focusing on their unpredictable future. They had vowed friendship and understanding, and if the warmth of his demeanor was any indication, he was determined to uphold his end of the bargain. And to her mild surprise, so was she.

"Hi," said Elizabeth, her tone uncharacteristically shy.

"Hi," said Darcy.

"Come in. Please sit down."

Darcy walked in, sat down and glanced at the stack of papers on her desk. "I'm interrupting."

"Yes," said Elizabeth. "Can't be helped, I'm afraid."

"Didn't Ed order you to be nice to me?" said Darcy with a faint smile.

"No." Elizabeth laughed, feeling the comfort of familiarity wash over her. This was the Darcy she remembered from the other night. Warm. Charming. Disarming. "I am to give you what you need. Being nice is optional. Even Ed knows my limits."

"Well, I suppose it's fortunate that I came fully prepared."

"Prepared for what?"

"A war of words. Always best to expect one with you."

Elizabeth smiled. "What can I do for you, Will?"

"Didn't Ed tell you?"

"Sort of. I'd like to hear it from you, though. And spare me the corporate speak."

"Ok. Well, it's simple, really. I'd like to understand QED from within."

"Yes, I got that from Ed. What does that mean exactly?"

"Reynold is going to go through all the books and the numbers and the strategy. That will help us understand QED on paper. But I want to go deeper than that. I want to understand what makes QED tick. How you approach your stories. How those stories really come into fruition."

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. "What are you really after, Will?

"I'm not a news guy. I've never worked for a newspaper before. I've run them, but I'd be lying if I said I have the faintest idea how things really work. That has to change if Pemberley really is going to reinvent itself. I have great deputies I can trust. But I can't be so ignorant about the process. A blind leader trying to save the Titanic... I don't think that ends well. Do you?"

"No. So you want me to educate you about our process. I get that. What specifically do you want from me?"

"I'd like to shadow you."

"Shadow how?"

"The only way someone can be shadowed."

"Wait, what? I don't understand. You want to follow me around?"

"Not all the time." Darcy was quick to assure her. "Just enough so I get the highlights."

"I don't know, Will. I'd have to clear that with Ed."

"I have Ed's blessings. In fact, he told me you're personally working on a story right now. And that you could let me in on your creative process."

"He did, did he?" Elizabeth felt a flash of annoyance flicker across her face.

That look was not lost on Darcy. "He's just trying to be helpful, Liz."

"I bet."

"You don't seem too pleased."

"What gave me away?" Elizabeth's scowl deepened.

"Well, your face is expressing disapproval in ways that I didn't know existed."

Still feeling irritable, Elizabeth said, "It's a special talent bestowed on a select few."

"Liz?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you want to do this?"

"Can I be honest?"

"Of course."

"Because I don't have the time to babysit you," said Elizabeth.

If Darcy objected to her choice of words, he did not show it. "I'd stay out of your way."

"How? I don't understand how this is supposed to work. Are you going to come with me when I'm out in the field? Be my sidekick for interviews? Sit here and stare at me while I type up my notes?"

"Why not?" So far, Darcy did not seem to grasp what she found so objectionable.

"Why not?! You think people will talk to me once they find out you're some hotshot CEO?"

"Then don't tell them."

"And you'd pose as what?"

"Your sidekick." Darcy grinned. "Or something. That does not seem like an insurmountable hurdle."

Elizabeth sighed. "You really want to do this?"

Darcy nodded. "I am determined."

"And I thought I was the stubborn one."

"Like I said, I'll really try to stay out of your way. But if I don't get what it is that you do, I'm never going to be able to understand this business the way I should. And that'd be a shame."

"Yeah," Elizabeth said quietly.

"And I won't stare at you while you write. The way I envision it, I'll come with you and observe some of your interviews. And then we can be in touch as the story evolves. Go through some drafts and talk over how you approach the writing and editing process. It really is meant to be as seamless as possible for you."

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yeah. I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Not really. But I'd like to know you're not an unwilling participant."

"I'm not. It's just...- I have a lot going on and this will be a distraction. I get why you want to do this. But I really can't hold your hand through it all."

"You won't have to. I'm known to be a quick study."

"Fine. But there are some ground rules."

"Shoot."

"Forget about your title and your background and your lineage. In my newsroom, I'm the boss."

"Just in your newsroom?" Darcy's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Will, I'm not kidding. If we're going to do this, I really need you to listen to me. Especially when we're out in the field."

"I can do that."

Elizabeth stared at him for a moment. "Ok. Then the first order of business is for you to get your papers together."

"For what?"

"We're going to the Zaatari refugee camp in northern Jordan."

"When?"

"Three days. Can you manage that?"

"Yeah."

"Good. You'll pose as my photographer. I'll bring a camera. Try not to break it."

"I'll try my best."

"You'll let me handle all the checkpoints and the Israeli border crossing. I know the Jordanian police and military patrols. Don't say anything unless I say it's ok."

"Ok."

"Where we're going is perfectly safe, but there are always risks in the field. Especially with everything that's going on right now. You sure you're comfortable with that?"

"Yes, Liz. If you can do it, so can I."

"No." Elizabeth shook her head. "That is exactly the wrong attitude. I do this for a living. You don't. You have some lofty notions about learning the news business. That's admirable and all, but I'd really prefer it if you didn't get yourself killed. At least not on my watch."

"You're worried about me."

"No. I'm annoyed by you."

"I see it in your eyes. You're worried about me. That's sweet, Liz."

"Knock it off," said Elizabeth. "This is serious. You should clear it with your Board or whoever it is that you answer to. You do answer to someone, don't you?"

"Yes. I will, Liz. Don't worry."

"Ok." Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Then I guess we're going to do this."

"I guess we are." Darcy smiled.

"I want you at my apartment at 5 am sharp on Monday."

"Ok. Anything else?"

"No. Can I work in peace now?"

"Yes." Darcy stood up and walked to the door. "I'll see you in a few days."

Elizabeth watched him leave and felt the mixture of dread and annoyance fade. "Will?"

"Yeah?"

"You know it's not personal, right? I'd fight this no matter who it was."

"I know."

"I like to focus on my work and I don't need...-"

"Distractions. I know."

"And you were right. I am worried about taking you out in the real world."

"I live in the real world too, you know."

"You think you do. But you haven't seen anything like this."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Well, I have to talk to Ed to clear a few things with him. Then I can properly brief you on the story we're working on."

"I need some sort of security clearance?"

"No. Just Ed's approval. This story is somewhat sensitive."

"Oh? I'm intrigued."

"We'll talk in the car. It's going to be a long drive," said Elizabeth. "I'll call you if there are any changes."

"Ok."

"Oh, and Will? One more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Please don't show up in a suit."

He looked at her for a moment and smiled. "I won't. I wouldn't want to distract you."

Posted on: 2015-01-04

The darkness enveloped them almost completely. Sunrise was still more than an hour away, yet the sky betrayed no hint of the revolution of light that was about to accost it with a force that was as overwhelming as it was unavoidable. The optimist was likely to claim this inevitability of dawn as evidence that even the darkest hour would have to one day end. But to Elizabeth, dawn was just another reminder that the truly powerful were virtually impossible to stop. She glanced at the passenger seat, marveling once again at the level of commitment to the story exhibited by her travel companion. He appeared almost disheveled with his tousled hair and noticeable stubble perfectly complemented by a pair of simple, dark jeans and an old T-shirt. She had never seen him like this before, so casual and so far from impeccable. It was almost as though the media mogul had never existed. Instead, he was just another journalist, penniless and powerless, unconcerned by appearances, motivated solely by the version of the truth he permitted himself to seek. Elizabeth found the idea of this Darcy oddly appealing - not because he was pretending to be someone he was not, but because he cared enough to even try.

Darcy noticed her furtive glances and finally said, "Are you going to say something or will you just steal glances at me the whole drive?"

Elizabeth smiled as she returned her attention to the road ahead. "I'm not used to seeing you like this."

"You told me not to wear a suit."

"I didn't even know you owned T-shirts, Will."

"There's a lot you don't know about me." Darcy paused, but Elizabeth said nothing, so he said, "I spoke to Ed last night."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He relayed all your concerns. Again. And offered me the opportunity to reconsider."

"But you didn't," said Elizabeth.

"Reconsider? No. I want to do this."

"Yeah. I got that when you showed up at my door," said Elizabeth. "I guess I should brief you."

"If you wouldn't mind."

Elizabeth looked at him for a moment, then said, "We're going to the Zaatari refugee camp. It's about 10 kilometers east of Mafraq."

"And the camp is for Syrian refugees?"

"Yes. It opened in 2012. At its peak, the camp was home to almost 200,000 refugees. But now the UNHCR says the number is closer to 80,000."

"Where did all those people go?"

"Some went back to Syria. Others went to live with friends or relatives. These camps are a lifeline for the shell shocked, but they have massive problems. Basic food, water and shelter are all major concerns. Not to mention organized crime."

"What kind of crime?"

"Smuggling. Drug dealing. Prostitution. You name it. For a while, the camp was basically run by these mafia-like organizations." Elizabeth paused. "Human beings can be quite enterprising. It still surprises me sometimes."

After a moment of silence, Darcy said, "These mafia groups...- they still around?"

"Yes, but they've been neutralized. That's the UN's word, not mine," said Elizabeth with a smirk. "The guy in charge, a UNHCR official by the name of Killian Kleinschmidt, started talking to these groups and coordinating with community organizers at the grassroots level."

"And he's been successful?"

"To an extent, yes. But these places are full of transients. Nothing stays the same forever."

"I see," said Darcy, relapsing into a contemplative silence once again.

"Globally," said Elizabeth. "The number of displaced people has topped 50 million for the first time since World War II. Bet you didn't know there was a refugee crisis."

"No," said Darcy, his cheeks flush with embarrassment at his ignorance.

Elizabeth noticed the contrition in his voice, so she said, "Don't feel bad. It's not the kind of statistic that stays prominent for more than a news cycle. Refugees are the byproduct of war. And these days, wars tend to be unending, so there are no easy solutions. Returning home is not always an option. And resettlement can be tough. The host countries tend to be poor and resource constrained themselves. Refugees impose enormous strains on the system. Jordan is a great example."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, Jordan has a population of about 6.5 million. 2 to 3 million are Palestinian refugees, many of whom have full citizenship."

"You're saying half of Jordan's population is comprised of refugees?"

"Well, they're not refugees anymore. It's been a long time since 1948, and many of them are fully integrated in society, although some still live in refugee camps. But Jordan has 200,000 or so Iraqi refugees as well as 600,000 Syrian refugees, so you can see, the numbers add up quickly for such a small country."

"And I assume those numbers are fairly fluid?"

"Indeed." Elizabeth nodded. "The local population tends to be wary of the refugees because of the toll they take on government services and the economy. But things are about to get a whole lot worse, I think."

"How?"

"Given everything that's going on in Syria and Iraq, I doubt that Jordan will allow its borders to remain so porous. Which means a lot of refugees are about to be stranded at the border."

"I don't understand. Why would Jordan close its borders now?"

"Security concerns. There is a credible threat that militants will be able to seek refuge in one of these camps undetected."

"Is that really possible?"

"Yes. In fact, I know that it is."

Darcy looked at her in stunned silence. "You're not suggesting...-?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Officially, we're going to Zaatari to get an update on the situation there."

"And unofficially?"

"We're meeting one of the former leaders of the Sunni insurgency that erupted during the Iraq war." Elizabeth paused. "I embedded with his people for a little while. I got to know them - and him. I began to understand him in a way. You could say we established a relationship of trust."

"Oh." Darcy absorbed her words. "What is he doing in Jordan?"

"Hiding, I think. From ISIS. There's a turf war going on behind the scenes. Many Sunni leaders are on ISIS' hit list due to substantial disagreements about...- well, pretty much everything. I don't believe Abdul is a terrorist. That seems like a strange statement given his background, but I think he took up arms to defend his people. I don't think he'd condone mass slaughter of innocent civilians in the name of Allah."

"You sure about that?" said Darcy.

"No. But I don't always have the luxury of certainty. Sometimes I have to trust my gut."

"And what is your gut telling you?"

"That I need to meet him. Hear what he has to say."

"So this piece you're writing...- it has nothing to do with the refugee camp?"

"Not exactly. I'll do a short write-up on the camp. But the main piece I'm working on is about the broader Shia-Sunni struggle sweeping the region."

"And you think...- Abdul will have a useful perspective to share?"

"He's been in the trenches of this war for almost a decade now. I think it's safe to say his perspective will be quite useful."

"Yeah," said Darcy. "I imagine you're right. How did you find him?"

"A reporter never reveals her sources," said Elizabeth with a smile.

"Well, I guess I see why you didn't want me to come."

"You can still change your mind, you know. I could drop you off at the nearest bus station."

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," said Darcy.

"You don't have to be a hero, Will."

"Pretending to be you for a day does not make me a hero, Liz."

"Your stubborn streak is not at all charming," said Elizabeth with a sigh. "Well, fine. Consider yourself briefed. You can catch a nap if you want. We still have a little while to go before the border."

The balance of the journey to the border was quiet and uneventful. The usually loquacious Elizabeth was consumed by scraps of memories scattered in her brain like a jigsaw puzzle - snippets of hushed conversations over freshly brewed tea, sleepless nights spent transcribing a narrowly missed mortar attack and endless days in the scorching desert heat spent pondering the absurdity of it all. She scoured this melange of disparate recollections for anything useful that would give her an edge over her interview subject. Journalism was a delicate dance of dominance, a battle over the subjective lens through which the supposedly objective facts would be viewed. And it was her job to ensure that her lens did not get skewed by the agenda of another. That goal was not as easy as it first appeared for it was nearly impossible to erect the kind of emotional fence that impartiality generally required. But Elizabeth found that meticulous preparation and an unwavering focus on the task at hand at least helped squash the impulses that threatened to betray her integrity. And the uncomfortable silence that pervaded the car was just the latest addition to the long list of collateral damage incurred at the altar of a better story.

The Jordan River crossing that connected Beit She'an, Israel to Irbid, Jordan was always a busy hub, and today was no exception. The elaborate web of checkpoints seemed daunting, but Elizabeth had vast experience with the security apparatus of the region, so their passage was relatively straightforward. After all the papers were examined, bags were searched and fees were paid, Darcy and Elizabeth emerged in Jordan just as the day was getting started. The sun was now high in the sky, and it was already quite hot. The relentless combination of dust and sand danced around them, thick and strong, coating their lips with the gritty scum of the desert. Elizabeth reflexively reached for her bottle of water, even though she knew that the kind of thirst this heat evinced was not easily quenched. Her throat felt dry, almost as though she had been wandering in the desert for months. The desert had a way of claiming her with the absolute authority of a tyrant, wilful and unyielding, determined to rob her of any sense of agency. And yet, lulled by the inviting songs whispered into her ears by the arid gusts, she felt an almost inexplicable fondness for the desert. No matter how foreign or uninviting or uncomfortable, this, too, was home.

"You were impressive back there," said Darcy, finally breaking their silence.

"You are too easily impressed, Will."

"I knew you spoke Arabic, but it's something else to see you in action."

Elizabeth smiled. "My liberal arts education was good for something, after all."

"What made you want to learn Arabic?"

"It was accidental, really. I studied French in high school and adored it. Stayed with it in college. I spent a semester abroad in Morocco - primarily to study French - and sort of fell in love with Arabic while I was there. I appreciated the way it sounded, how emotive and passionate it was. I had always planned on studying French and international relations. It took a bit of juggling to add Arabic to the mix, but I'm so glad I did. It has served me well over the years."

"Arabic is tough to learn, no?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Languages have always come rather naturally to me."

Darcy gave her an unabashed look of adoration. "Like I said, impressive."

Elizabeth blushed. "I didn't mean to brag."

"You're just stating facts. And I asked."

"You did," said Elizabeth. In a bid to escape his piercing gaze, she looked straight ahead. "We should be there in a couple of hours."

The road to Mafraq was relatively desolate, sparsely decorated by the occasional vendor selling fruits and coffee out of a decrepit old cart. They drove in companionable silence, hypnotized by the barren landscape stretching out for miles around the highway. As they approached Zaatari, signs began to appear for the crossings into Syria. In the peaceful moments at night, the artillery fire from across the border could be heard in the villages around Zaatari. A solemn reminder for all those who had managed to escape that there would be no home standing upon their return. Until a few years ago, Zaatari had been just a sleepy village with nothing much in its vicinity but a Royal Jordanian Air Force base. And now it was home to one of the largest refugee camps in the world. A dubious distinction, but one that had put Zaatari on the map for the international aid community. For better or worse, the camp had become a symbol of the humanitarian cost of the Syrian civil war. And it was becoming increasingly obvious that there was nothing temporary about either the camp or the war.

The car arrived at the camp gate and a soldier rapped on Elizabeth's window. Elizabeth handed him their documents, which he studied in silence for a few minutes. After a long, suspicious glance at Darcy, he finally waved them in. They drove to the parking lot under the watchful eye of Royal Jordanian Army officers. The camp was bustling with honking cars and impatient motorcycles interspersed with street vendors and young children wandering in search of a purpose. As they parked the car, Elizabeth started giving Darcy a quick overview of the camp. What had begun as a UN-sponsored temporary shelter for war-scarred refugees had evolved into a complex urban ecosystem, more akin to a slum than a camp. There were unauthorized businesses selling everything from coffee and sweets to bridal dresses and washing machines. The central boulevard in the camp that housed shops, schools and clinics was known to residents and aid workers as Champs-Elysees. The informal economy was powered by electricity stolen from the grid to the tune of $750,000 a month. The residents had organized themselves into social classes, much as they would at home. There was gentrification and wealth disparity at Zaatari with rich businessmen living in relatively lavish accommodations while some families survived with 10 or more people in a cramped tent. Amidst the chaos and deprivation, the camp had come to approach something resembling normality.

As they walked on the Champs-Elysees, Elizabeth said, "Newer camps built after the Zaatari experience are meant to avoid the mistakes made here."

"Meaning?" said Darcy, his eyes wandering around in fascination.

"The ground-up urbanism of a place like this is messy and unruly, and the authorities have had a tough time keeping things under control. Places like Azraq are much more strictly policed with dirt floors, no electricity and corrugated metal shelters in almost military order."

"I see. And this place is just a tad bit more chaotic."

Elizabeth nodded. "Indeed. Much more dynamic and frankly, interesting. But the Jordanians won't make this mistake again."

The boulevard smelled like nothing Darcy had ever encountered before - a combination of sweat, cigarettes, sewage and meat roasting on spits. There was life bursting from every inch of the camp. Young men were standing idly in front of shops drinking coffee. Women were sweeping the dirt away from their storefronts, taking pride in the meager possessions fate had allowed them to keep. Schoolchildren dressed in uniforms were eating fast melting ice cream with the kind of relish that belonged to the innocent. There was a frenetic energy in the air that Darcy had not expected from a place housing refugees without home or country. The poverty was palpable as was the enterprise, and it was a fascinating combination. Darcy had always thought that he had seen the world, and he almost laughed at his own naivete born out of a sheltered and privileged existence. This, this was the real world, nuanced and complex, filled with joy and hardship and sorrow and unspeakable horror. He thought of his own normal filled with ski vacations and expensive schools and felt his bile rise. Perhaps it was just the heat or the smells, but he felt sick. He glanced at Elizabeth, who seemed at ease in her surroundings. She belonged here, perhaps more than she did at a fancy party in New York. He could see it in her face, the way her eyes lit up as she spoke to some shop owners, the way the Arabic rolled off her tongue, the way her lips curled up in a smile. Everything else in her life was trivial compared to this moment. She was meant to be in places like this, telling the stories that were forgotten, recording the history that the world would rather not know. She tilted her head and smiled at him, her cheeks flushed from the sun. And Darcy thought that he had never seen something quite so beautiful before.

They arrived at a shop selling pizza, and Elizabeth stepped in to chat with the man behind the counter. Recalling that he was supposed to be a photographer, Darcy began to take pictures, first of the store and then of the large sign hanging from the front door advertising the joint's fast delivery service. He looked back at Elizabeth, who seemed engrossed in conversation, and decided to take a walk. As he stepped outside the shop, he almost collided with a bike, whose rider was a boy of 9 or 10. The boy spewed some angry words in Arabic at him, which Darcy assumed were choice words of admonishment at his recklessness. After catching his breath, he walked a few steps and stopped in front of a travel agency that apparently provided pickup service at the airport. In front of the store sat a young woman dressed in jeans, a long shirt and a headscarf. She locked eyes with Darcy, and after a moment's hesitation, flashed a bashful smiled. Without a second thought, Darcy reached for his camera and began taking her picture. She was young, perhaps 13 or 14, and there was an innocence in her eyes twinged with a deep sadness that even her smile could not erase. It was jarring to see her in a place like this, robbed of any sense of childhood. He thought of his sister at 14 and how young she had been then, how carefree and clueless, how fiercely protected. That such protection did not exist for all the children in the world had always been a theoretical fact relegated to history books and news reports. Witnessing it up close in the middle of this sweltering slum was quite a different matter altogether. Suddenly, a loud yelling emanated from within the store and an older man, presumably the young girl's father, appeared. He seemed angry, and instinctively, Darcy took a step back. The girl seemed terrified and practically ran into the store. The man began to walk toward Darcy, his yelling now accompanied by wild gestures. Darcy felt the sweat drip from his forehead, and he prepared to run.

Out of nowhere, Elizabeth appeared by his side. She began talking to the man and gesturing in return. After a few minutes of what seemed like an elaborate negotiation, she turned to Darcy and said, "Will, give me the camera."

Still dazed, Darcy said, "What?"

"Give me the camera, Will!" Elizabeth shouted. He handed over the camera and watched in silence as Elizabeth continued talking to the shop owner. After looking at the screen for a few moments, the shop owner stopped yelling and with a last deadly look at Darcy, returned to his store. Elizabeth sighed and turned to Darcy. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Darcy found his voice. "I don't know...- I was just taking pictures."

"Will, you can't take pictures of young girls without permission."

"Oh... I didn't know."

"Well, now you know."

"What did you have to do to get him to calm down?"

"I deleted the picture and promised to fire you."

"Oh."

"Will, this kind of thing can get you killed, you understand?"

Darcy nodded. "I...- I get it."

"These people have been violated in every way imaginable. They don't take kindly to having their last shreds of dignity torn away by strange Westerners ostensibly profiting from their misery."

"I, ah...- I understand. I'm sorry, Liz."

Elizabeth's voice softened. "Just stay close, will you?"

Darcy simply nodded in response. He was not planning on leaving her side again.

After interviewing a few more shop owners, they began to move away from the boulevard and toward what appeared to be a residential neighborhood. They walked past rows and rows of prefabricated houses and tents until they reached a somewhat secluded spot. Directly ahead of them stood a large house protected by formidable men undoubtedly carrying weapons. Elizabeth approached the house and spoke to one of the guards, while Darcy stood in silence, looking around nervously. After a few minutes, Elizabeth and Darcy were shown inside and offered coffee, which they politely declined. They sat alone in silence for a while, and then finally, a tall imposing man sporting white linen clothes and a beard appeared and immediately greeted Elizabeth. Elizabeth returned his greeting and began to speak rapidly, and Darcy deduced that they were in the presence of Abdul Sharif. The conversation continued for over an hour in Arabic. Elizabeth spoke and listened and took notes, while Darcy just took in his environs. The house was grander than most that they had seen so far. It had been cobbled together from shelters, tents and cinder blocks and sported an interior courtyard and a satellite dish. There was electricity and judging from the toilet he spied in the corner, indoor plumbing. Relatively luxurious given the circumstance, and for a second, Darcy forgot he was in a refugee camp. Even Zaatari, it appeared, could not escape from the curse of the haves and the have nots.

Suddenly, they heard a commotion outside and one of the guards appeared. Judging from his animated tone, something was happening. Darcy looked at Elizabeth, who was talking even more rapidly than normal. Another minute of suspense, and then, she rose from her seat and looked at him. "Will, we have to go."

"What's wrong?"

"Apparently one of the army vehicles hit a child. There's a mob forming. There may be another riot. We have to get out of here."

"Oh...- ok."

"We're going to go out the back and try to reach the car from the eastern periphery." Elizabeth paused. "Don't worry. I'll get us out of here, ok?

"I'm not worried," said Darcy. And he wasn't. He had Elizabeth.

They walked out of the house with hurried steps, and when they were outside, they could hear the mob forming in the distance. The sounds were chilling, all angry shouts and broken glass and teeming crowds. The paved road in front of them seemed deserted, so they continued wordlessly on their path until they turned a corner and practically ran into a large crowd. They could hear the tear gas and warning shots in the distance, but those measures were not instruments of calm at this juncture. Elizabeth and Darcy watched in horror as a car was lit on fire, and the crowd descended into a chorus of angry chants. Elizabeth exchanged a quick glance with Darcy and clenched her fingers. She motioned him to follow her and began to walk furiously away from the crowd. As the mob thickened, her fast walk broke into a run, and she pushed her way through the disenchanted and the aggrieved, fighting her instinct to stay and document the chaos. She looked back at Darcy and saw a sea of frenzied faces instead. She stopped and screamed his name, but her voice was lost in the collective voices of discontent echoing all around her. Fearing the worst, she started running back toward the crowd and finally saw Darcy on the ground surrounded by an angry mob. And just like that, all the noises receded into the background, and all Elizabeth could hear was her own silent panic.

Elizabeth stood, silent and motionless, paralyzed by a tsunami of powerlessness as the old traumas came rushing back to remind her of her crimes. She was back in that market in Baghdad, witnessing the forces of anarchy claim the life of another because of her - her hubris, her recklessness, her luck. Her therapist often said that grief was a process, that loss was a slow healing scar, but the truth was far messier. What no one ever told her was that loss was like undergoing surgery without anesthesia, that she would feel every prod, every poke, that she would experience the pain unfiltered by analgesics. And that the pain would not be dulled or dampened by the passage of time or the change of scenery. She lived with it every day and rightfully so. It was to be her only penance, her only punishment for having survived. Living with such profound melancholy was a tricky affair. The pangs of guilt and sorrow intruded on her consciousness at the most inopportune times, but she rather liked the reminder of the things that she had lost. It was like breathing, seldom noticed or acknowledged until it became labored. So it was with grief, always present, but only noticed when the weight of memories made it difficult for her to ignore that she had surrendered a piece of her soul forever. And as all the grief, all the loss washed over her once again, she realized she was not prepared to lose yet another piece of her soul.

Elizabeth found her footing and began pushing her way through the mob. The crowd was angry at something and everything, and it seemed that a Western face was enough to invite its wrath. She began to yell loudly in Arabic, explaining that they were on the refugees' side, that they were just journalists, that they were only trying to shed light on the plight of the Syrians. When she finally reached Darcy, she found him lying in a defensive position, blood flowing from his arms and head, his injuries of uncertain magnitude. Darcy looked up to see her standing in front of him and said something unintelligible. Elizabeth shook her head at him and continued screaming in Arabic; explaining, cajoling, pleading. The crowd either did not hear or did not care about her declarations, and for a moment, she was sure that they would both die there. The mob pressed closer toward them both, and she closed her eyes. She had not imagined it ending this way. All of a sudden, loud noises from about 30 feet away broke through the mayhem, and she opened her eyes. A Jordanian armored vehicle was approaching them, and the mob dissipated as rapidly as it had formed. Elizabeth crouched in front of Darcy and asked if he could walk. He nodded, so she lifted him to his feet, held his hand firmly, and together, they ran.

The chaos had spread to almost every corner of the camp, but Elizabeth and Darcy encountered no more hostile mobs, and soon, they were at the car. Elizabeth opened the passenger side of the car and made Darcy sit down. "You're hurt," she said.

Darcy looked up at her. "It's not so bad."

"Will, you're bleeding." Elizabeth found the first aid kit she carried in the trunk of her car and began to clean his wounds. He had cuts and bruises on his arms and face, and his T-shirt was ripped.

"I...- " His voice was shaking.

"Shhhh, stop talking. Let me finish." Her tone was calm, efficient, professional. Another 5 minutes of first aid and a quick physical exam later, she said, "Nothing's broken, I think. You're going straight to a doctor when we get back. I want you checked out for a concussion. The cuts are fairly superficial, but you'll want to get a tetanus shot." She paused. "You look a lot worse than you are."

"Thanks.... I think." He smiled.

"This isn't funny."

"I know."

"You could have died out there."

"I know."

"I didn't want you to come. Why does no one listen to me?"

"Liz, I'm sorry. It was my fault. I fell behind."

Her calm demeanour had evaporated, and tears were beginning to form in her eyes. "Why didn't you just trust me when I told you not to come?"

Darcy stood up, looked at her for a second, and then reached out to give her a hug. He held her close and felt her arms tighten around him. "I'm sorry.'

"I almost lost you, Will," she said through her tears, her head buried in his chest.

"I'm sorry."

"I can't do this again."

He had no words of comfort to offer. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I can't do this again," she said. "I can't...- I can't do this again." She was trembling. They held each other for another minute, and when they parted, Elizabeth avoided Darcy's eyes. She wiped the tears off her face and walked to the driver's side of the car. Before getting into the car, in a steadier voice, she said, "Let's get out of here."

They drove in silence for a while, uncomfortable silence that felt like salt on a fresh wound. Finally, Darcy said, "Liz, I...-"

"You're not going to apologize again, are you?"

Darcy smiled. "If it'll make you feel better."

"Nothing's going to make me feel better."

"Liz...-"

"I'd rather not talk about this right now."

"I'm ok, Liz. You said so yourself."

"Yeah."

"You're angry at me."

"Yes... no." She sighed. "I'm angry at everything."

"You wish you hadn't come?"

"No. I'm glad I came. I got what I needed from my interviews."

"Oh. So you just wish I wasn't here?"

"Yeah."

"I'll try not to take it personally."

Elizabeth finally tore her eyes from the road and looked at Darcy. "You don't get it, do you? If I had been a minute late or if the army hadn't showed up...-"

"Things would have been much worse. No, I know. I get it." Darcy paused. "But you do this all the time. You put yourself in danger, in situations infinitely more volatile than this. How do you do it, Liz?"

"It's just who I am, Will. I know what I'm doing, and I can handle myself. And if - when - I die, I don't expect anyone to feel sorry for me. I'll have lived my life on my terms. And that's all I want."

"Well, I'm also here because I wanted to be here. I'm not going to lie. I was scared out of my mind. I really thought I was going to die. And maybe you're right. Maybe it was reckless of me to come. But I'm glad I did. I learned so much today... things I couldn't have imagined. That's worth something, right?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Nothing is worth your life, Will."

"It's worth your life, then why not mine?"

"This isn't some kind of vanity exercise, Will." Elizabeth felt her pulse race. "This isn't some trophy for you to put up along with whatever other accolades you've accumulated in your highly decorated existence. This is real life. It's messy and it's dirty and it's dangerous. And people like you don't belong here."

"You don't believe that," said Darcy, his voice subdued. "You're just angry."

"I...- yeah, fine, I'm angry."

"You're angry because you almost lost me, and you said you couldn't do that again."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Liz."

"What?"

"Please, just talk to me."

Elizabeth felt her chest tighten. "I can't."

"Please."

"No, Will, you don't understand. I can't. Not right now. I owe you an explanation, I know. I'm sorry. But I can't talk. Not yet."

"Ok."

"Ok?" She raised her eyebrow.

"Ok." Darcy nodded. "But there is one more thing I need to apologize for."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"I broke your camera."

Elizabeth looked at him, and for the first time in hours, she smiled.