A/N: Just to clarify - this is not following any particular plot-line, nor are the flashbacks set in Regency. Technically, it's just an AU with the same old characters we know and love. The plot-bunny just kept nagging at me, though, and I finally decided I had to write it. So read and enjoy, everybody!
Remember?
I was as whole as they come, and yet, somehow, I'd always felt incomplete. Despite having everything I could possibly want, I'd always felt as though there was a hole, a void -embedded somewhere deep in my heart. As if there was something missing, a jigsaw puzzle - with one piece lost….lost to the mists of time. All my years, I felt like this…until he came into my life. But that's jumping ahead just a little bit….let's start with my day. The day. The day I first met William Darcy.
It was one of those cliché days. You know… everyone has them. The kind of day where you feel like you're living in a fairytale….the skies are bright with the golden rays of the sun, birds chirp harmoniously in the trees and fly in perfect V formations amidst the puffy white clouds in the azure sky…..You feel like skipping in valleys, singing songs about love and happiness and everything that is good and wonderful in the world!
Yeah, maybe you're right….it's probably just me. But anyway, from the second I woke up, I could tell that it was going to be one of those cliché days.
And guess what? I was right.
It felt almost surreal, what they were going to do. Something that happened in books, and to more exciting people than her. This was nothing like the dozens of clandestine meetings they'd had before. This was real. Glancing over at him, she felt a wave of warmth wash over her. Dark hair falling into his contrasting light eyes, a blue soldier's uniform, and a steady hand clasped over hers. Everything she'd ever wanted, ever needed, right here in front of her. She felt so giddy, sneaking off in the middle of the night, drunk with the intoxication of running away from this place, this place that never wanted them together, that would do anything to keep them apart. Running away from here, and to a future together. A future with him.
As we have already established, it was one of those cliché days. So, of course, going along with this pattern, me meeting Romeo had to be….oh, I don't know, hmm, this is a toughie...a cliché!
I'll take you inside my head a little…what EXACTLY I was feeling at that moment, captured in time like a mental snapshot preserved only in my brain. Walking back from the library, books in hand, not watching where you're going and bam! Collision! Books on the floor, pages flying! Panic, panic….you bend down to pick them up from the floor, wincing when you notice their now-grimy covers….and suddenly a figure drops down next to you, picks up a book, and hands it to you. His hands brush yours for just a millisecond, but in that second, a jolt of electricity strong enough to power a city passes between you. You look up, startled, and you see him do the same…..
This would be around the part where, if I'd been born a few centuries ago, I'd have swooned into his arms. Unfortunately, this being 21st century America, I didn't think that such behavior would be condoned, and instead contented myself with gazing starry-eyed at his face while trying to form a coherent sentence. His dark, almost black hair was rumpled, as though he'd just woken up, and a small dent in the corner of his mouth showed a hint of a suppressed smile. In the bright sunlight, his eyes seemed to almost glitter…as if flickering with some secret that only he knew.
That's when I fled.
It was so hard to accept. This would be the last time she ever felt his hand curled around hers….and he wasn't even conscious. After all of it, everything they'd been through, to have it end like this? They'd put everything, everything on stake for their love. They knew it would be enough, no matter what. That's why they'd done it, after all. Run away together. Her family wasn't happy – they'd wanted her to marry a nobleman, not some soldier who didn't know if he'd even see the dawn of the next day. His family wasn't happy – they'd wanted him to marry someone of his rank, for, although Darcy was a soldier, he came from old money. They'd betrayed both of their families, left behind everything they'd ever known and never looked back. But this was something they hadn't counted on. He was a soldier, though. It was a noble death…fighting for the freedom of their country, for their independence from the British. But it shattered her world. When she'd heard his raspy breathing, and had seen the blood marring his face, she'd known what was coming. She knew that his death was now inevitable, and whatever she did, there was really nothing to do but sit and wait….wait for the end. It was the worst feeling in the world – this helplessness, this frustration, this longing to do something, anything…..but to be unable to even lift a finger to help. She had pleaded with him until her voice croaked…..for him not to leave her, not to leave her alone in this cold, dark world where they had no one but each other. She had wept enough for the two of them, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening with tears. She could feel it when he breathed his last. Inhale, exhale…..and then he was gone. And nothing, nothing in this world or the next, could ever mend the giant, gaping hole in her heart where he used to reign. Nothing.
I regretted it as soon as I turned around, of course, but by then there was nothing I could do about it. Lizzy, you're SUCH an idiot, I mentally chided myself as I rushed off in the opposite direction….but some part of me lingered behind. Somehow I felt his eyes following my receding figure. Somehow I felt him wondering the same question that haunted me then, and for weeks after: Who was that? What was it about his eyes that were so familiar? What was it about his touch that left me clinging to memories I never knew I had, memories of his hand entwined with mine? How could I possibly possess these memories, when I knew for a fact that I'd never met him before? I had no answers to these questions.
Life was nothing without him. In a month, she'd barely left the house. She was surprised at how well her body could function without a soul, or a heart to guide it. Like a ghost, she floated around the house, her hands performing the mundane, everyday domestic actions of chores, while her heart wept for him, wept for his loss, for her loss. At night, she sobbed quietly into her pillow. "William…." she whispered his name, quietly, reverently. Sometimes, she thought she could almost hear his voice calling back to her. "I'm here, Elizabeth. I'll always be here."
You'd think, you know, after such a beginning, that our love story would be off to a zipping start. Before long, I'd be in a white dress, he'd be in a tux, and wedding bells would chime in the background! At least, that's how it went in my fantasies. In reality, I didn't see him again for the longest time. It seemed like Fate was keeping us apart. No matter however many times I relived our meeting in my dreams, I didn't see him - the actual, solid, flesh-and-blood person – for a year.
It had been a year. There was nothing left of her anymore. Her heart she had buried with him; her body wasn't far behind. She knew what she had to do. Her fingers trembling, she penned a letter to her family – a family who she had not seen, met, or talked to since she had run away with William. But this was her obligation, her duty as the firstborn daughter. She dropped off the letter, knowing full well that before they ever read its contents, she would no longer be of this world. Feeling lightheaded, she drifted to the market as if in a daze. Even as she received the glass vial, she burned with the knowledge of what she was about to do. To avoid questions, she hid the bottle in the crinkles of her skirt and hurried home. Two days later, one of the neighbors, who had grown concerned at the lack of activity in the silent house, came to check on her. The scream she uttered upon seeing the corpse resounded throughout the town. The cause of death was not uncertain….on the round wood table there was a glass vial of some clear liquid with a very clear label: arsenic.
Just when I'd given up all hope of ever seeing him again, there was a knock at the door. I had been all settled for a nice, quiet night at home, eating ice cream and having an old-movie marathon when I heard it. Groaning in frustration, I yelled, "What?" and moved to open the door, and gasped. It was Fate, no one else, cloaked in the guise of a Red Cross shirt and jeans. You-Know-Who had arrived….and no, I don't mean Voldemort.
"Hello, would you like to donate …." he trailed off when he saw who it was. "Oh, hey," he said, sheepishly.
I think I stammered something halfway intelligent, something along the lines of "h- h – hi," when he stuck out his hand and said, "I don't think we were ever properly introduced. I'm Will."
Gingerly, I took his hand, and the familiar spark of electricity flickered between us as I did. "Elizabeth," I told him. Something fell into place then…..that hole in my heart? It vanished. Suddenly, I knew.
"Will? Have we met before?"
A/N: I hoped you guys liked it - I know I had a lot of fun writing it! And PUH-LEAASSEEEEE...(I can't stress this enough, as you can probably tell :P) review and let me know how you found it, good, bad, or just okay. Constructive criticism is great - I'm aiming to be an author, see, and all your lovely opinions help me focus on fixing what needs to be fixed and developing my strengths :). Also, be sure to check out my other, multi-chap fic, Thorns or Roses?. It's basically a modern P&P that's MUCH more canon than this one-shot.
Thank you to all you wonderful people who followed/faved this story and ESPECIALLY to those of you who reviewed! You all get virtual brownies!