If you know me in real life, you probably know how obsessed I have become over The Lizzie Bennet Diaries. Basically, if you aren't familiar with it, it's a modernized, vlog version of Pride and Prejudice. (If you haven't gotten into it yet, DO IT. FIND THE YOUTUBE AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PARTAKE IN THE BOUNTY) After yesterday's episode (Episode 89: Insomnia), I knew what I had to do. I had to give Jane the badass edge she has been so desperately in need of. It's not very in character for her - she's channeling her inner Lizzie - but I still think that, given the opportunity, she would do this. Put on the pants of the relationship, man up, and confront him. Most likely will be canon-balled, but you know what? I don't give a shit, this was fun. Enjoy.
Bing. Freaking. Lee.
"Episode 81: Awkward." What an appropriate title for what may very well have been the most uncomfortable five minutes of video Jane had sat through in quite some time. It wasn't anything about the video specifically that bothered her, at least not with a decent reason – yes, there were a few…uncomfortable moments, but there had been worse in others. In all honesty, the video itself was perfectly fine. But the feelings it left Jane feeling were…well, awkward.
She was not a woman to be easily angered. In fact, she could only specifically recall two such moments of true anger in her life. The first was when she was twelve. Lydia came home from school that afternoon, sobbing about a boy on the playground and her favorite doll. She disliked seeing anyone upset, particularly her sisters, and was determined to do something about it. She had stormed upstairs, yanked a piece of paper from a notebook, and proceeded to write an awfully nasty letter to this unknown boy, diagramming all of the things he had done wrong and what she thought of them. Once completed, she looked over the terrible words she penned to this child she had never even met, let alone understood, and promptly tore it into a mass of incredibly small pieces, flushing it down the toilet. She felt lousy for days after, but in the end was grateful her urges went no farther than those quickly jotted barbs. The second moment of anger was right now.
Lydia's incident with the boy held nothing over her anger at the end of that video. She knew and understood Bing's reasoning – he had trouble trusting himself, which was why he relied so heavily on Darcy and his sister. Fear of failure, of disappointing those he loved most, was a strong similarity they both held. But this…this was it. Something in this video simply triggered the right switch in Jane's usually subdued and complacent attitude and released something she was not at all familiar with. Irritated Jane. Angry Jane. I'm So Pissed I Could Punch A Wall Jane. And even (was it possible?")…Bitchy Jane. Normal Jane was, apparently, simply along for the ride while Dark Jane came out to run amok.
Immediately after talking to Lizzie, she'd gone and watched the videos. Every single one, from the moment her sister arrived at Pemberley Digital until Valentine's Day. It astounded her what she had missed – the amazing (and admittedly adorable) blossoming of Lizzie and Darcy's relationship, the interactions and revelations with his sister Gigi…and Bing. He only appeared in a few…exactly two, and not even for long spans of time. Both incidents were highly uneasy for everyone involved, and Jane couldn't help but feel terrible, that this discomfiture was somehow her fault. Then he said her name. Whispered it, almost as if he were afraid to bring it up. As if he hadn't said it in a very long while.
And that did it. That single sentence, "How's Jane?" coming from that charming, loveable, adorable, terrible, vicious, and hateful man she loved was the catalyst. Two words and Jane found herself hurtling down the highway, her mind a stormy tempest made up of all the wretched feelings she'd been forced to deal with since the day he left. Before those two words, she had thought she was doing rather a decent job at appearing content; she was a pro at making life seem like sunshine and chocolate, when it was really hail and Brussels sprouts. She thought wasn't miserable anymore: she had had a job she enjoyed and could distract herself with it and concerns over her family. She no longer needed to think about Bing freaking Lee because certainly he wouldn't be thinking about her.
Those words threw her entire theory, the basis of the understanding she had deluded herself into believing, down an exceptionally long, dark, and never-ending tunnel of confusion. It sounded like he cared. Like it genuinely mattered to him how Jane was doing. And yet he'd done absolutely nothing.
She forced herself to refocus on her driving. She still wasn't as familiar with San Francisco as she ought to have been, but her job hadn't exactly left much time for sightseeing (though, given the sudden turn of events over the last few weeks, she certainly had the chance now). She knew vaguely where the house he and Caroline shared resided, but getting there would take some careful maneuvering. Additionally, there was the matter of Caroline herself – Jane did not want to interact with her, not in the state she was in. Her righteous indignation was for the man who broke her heart then acted as though he cared; she would not allow any bystanders, innocent or otherwise, to be caught in what was completely his. They did not deserve this Jane…but he did.
Eventually she reached the house, pulling into the driveway soundlessly. It appeared dark, but there were a few signs of life in the enormous fixture – a light at a window here, a flutter of a curtain there. Before she could lose her nerve, Jane rushed from the car, pushing the doorbell a bit more forcibly than usual. She reminded herself to save it for him – not even the doorbell should take a single microbe of her anger from its justifiable place. She waited somewhat impatiently for someone to answer and quite suddenly she was greeted by the curious face of a butler.
A servant. Of course. She should have expected it, but it caught her off guard. Normal Jane was forced to butt in. "Oh…I'm so sorry," she apologized, toying nervously with the edge of her jacket. "My name's Jane, Jane Bennet. I hate to interrupt…but…is Bing Lee at home?"
Looking her over, the butler nodded once, leading her inside. She continued to apologize sheepishly as he led her down a rather beautiful hallway, placing her in what seemed to be a sitting room before exiting to find the master of the house. Her anger returned abruptly as he left, the realization of what was about to occur igniting the unfamiliar emotion from a determined simmer into an adamant bonfire. She paced the room, unable to keep still with such a raw force of emotion coursing through her, and then, abruptly, he was there. In all his glory. Wearing plaid blue pajama bottoms, a gray t-shirt, and an astounded expression. Bing Lee. Bing freaking soul crusher life ruiner emotion toyer never to be heard from again Lee.
"Jane," he managed to gasp out incredulously before the full force of her tirade of emotions collapsed out of control from her mouth.
"What the actual hell, Bing?" she demanded, hands on her hips. She would have been astounded at her words and the very Lizzie-like way she yelled if she hadn't been so furious. "What is your problem? You just up and leave one day – don't even stop to say goodbye – refuse to see or speak or even text me for months, can't even bother to pop by and say hello when we're living in the same damn city and you know it – and you say something like that? In that pathetic little voice of yours. 'How's Jane?' And to Lizzie. You don't even have the balls to say it to my own face, to ask me how I'm doing. You really want to know how I'm doing, Bing? I'm terrible. Miserable. My youngest sister was nearly ruined – destroyed by the man she though loved her, similarly enough. My other sister is crushed by it, blames herself for it, and I can't make either of them properly feel better when I feel like shit. I do my damnedest to make everyone believe that I'm okay when I can't even convince myself. And why? Because of you, Bing Lee. You and your running, your hiding, your doing what others think is best when you aren't sure if you can trust yourself. So there's your answer, you jerk, and don't you ever speak to my sisters of me again. You don't deserve the chance to hurt them too."
The tears had started about halfway through her rant and she did nothing to stifle them. He needed to see them, to understand the full enormity of what he had done. Her anger, the inner Lizzie that would make her sister puff up in pride, finally appeased, she made for the door, but a firm hand on her arm stopped her.
"I know." Again, only two words. She knew he was intelligent, even if he didn't believe it, but he certainly was doing his best to disprove her.
They were silent for a moment, Jane refusing to turn and look him in the eyes. She didn't want the anger to fade, and knew if she saw the pathetic, entreating look in those eyes, it would. And if the anger left, it would be replaced by the pain. "Knowing isn't going to change anything, Bing. Please…just let me go."
"No." He turned her to face him, hands holding down both her arms. "I don't want to let you go. I never did. You're right – all of it, every word I deserved, and more. There were a thousand things I should have done, choices that I ought to have made…and I didn't. Because I was afraid. And I still am. But now, it's fear I'll lose you, that I already have, and that I've been the biggest ass…" He sighed, finally releasing her. "I can't make it up to you. I know my limitations. If you've been feeling anything like what I have, I know nothing I do or say will right this mess. But I do want you to know I love you."
"I love you too."
Silence fell again. Neither looked at the other, but soon, instinctively, they melded into each others' arms. This time they both cried, from sadness, anger, bitterness…and just a hint of joy. They stood in such a state for a long while, content simply to be near.
And unexpectedly, it was almost certain that they would be okay.