I've spent a few weeks writing this, so I'd really love to hear your thoughts. Also, the song that is brought up multiple times in the story is So Close by Jon McLaughlin, if you'd like to listen to it while you're reading along (I did while I was writing).

This was split into three chapters to make this 7000+ word oneshot less daunting, so don't forget to read the entirety of the story, please!

I hope you enjoy it. Please review and favorite.

The first time he sees her, it's at a wedding.

(It might be a bit cliché to him, but for once, he doesn't mind.)

He doesn't really see her, he thinks to himself later: sure, he gets introduced by Bing to the three girls, and he ends up catching the garter and she ends up catching the bouquet, and according to tradition, they have to dance, so he musters up enough strength to take her hand and lead her onto the dance floor.

And of course, as if he wasn't lucky enough today, he had to dance with some girl he didn't really know at a wedding he wasn't technically invited to, to a slow song he doesn't recognize.

The piano music begins to play, and he remembers he has to at least try to dance. She smiles up at him politely, takes his hand and follows his lead.

The other couples go onto the dance floor, starting to dance to the slow rhythm of the song and most probably, he thought, rolling his eyes, the beats of their hearts.

'You're in my arms, and all the world is calm
The music playing on, for only two..'

"This song's so inappropriate for a wedding," she remarks to herself, and he responds with an, "Excuse me?" thinking to himself, Oh, no, I have to talk to her now?

So close, to reaching
That famous happy end, and
Almost, believing,
This one's not pretend…

"I mean, not inappropriate," she clarifies, "Just not … fitting for a wedding."

"How so?" He continues to sway uncomfortably.

So far, we are
so close…

"Have you heard this song before?" She asks and he shakes his head, looking over her to see Bing and Jane dancing together, while she continues.

"Basically, it sounds like the couple will get their happy ending, but in the end, they just end up getting really close, but not close enough that they can stay together. It's just a bit … fate-tempting."

"Mmm," he nods, and she tries to rack her brain for something else to talk about, so she asks him if he likes it here in town or he likes dancing, and he shortly replies with one word answers and she gives up.

Eventually, it gets to the part where it's quiet between them except for the music. He knows the song's ending and he can feel the relief between both of them as the last line of the song is sung and everyone starts clapping.

He thanks her for the dance, and they both break off to their respective walls, not knowing that that particular dance would be stuck with them for the next few months to come.

If you asked him then, when was the first time he really saw Lizzie Bennet, he's not sure he can answer that.

The only thing he can say for certain is that, he no longer hated it in town. He remembers Bing's smile when he came home from his first date with Jane and the fact that he'd invited all of them out to a local bar multiple times.

Later on, as he looks back, he remembers that those excursions were much less painful than they had first been. Perhaps because he'd gotten used to the town or he'd been convinced into a couple of drinks, but he remembers that familiar red hair and her two left feet when it came to dancing by herself and her laugh and her rolling her fine eyes at the same time that he did when they noticed Bing and Jane gazing into each other's eyes.

And then he thinks that maybe he remembers a little bit too much about Lizzie Bennet for someone who's had a couple of drinks.

He sees her more often when she and her sister live in the same house as the three of them for a month.

Bumps into her in the kitchen, when she comes down for breakfast early and he comes back from his daily morning bike ride.

Glimpses her on her tiptoes, reaching for a book on the top bookshelf in the corner of the lounge. (And hitting the shelf, toppling over the books, then quietly cursing to herself.)

Notices her laughing with Jane, chatting with Caroline, politely asking Bing about med school.

Remembers the witty lines she'd fire back when she was in a debate with him.

He notices Lizzie Bennet more than he'd like to, especially now that he's sober.

He first realizes it that one night when she was still at Netherfield. It was about two in the morning—late enough that everyone was in bed and he would still be up, doing some last-minute reports.

He walks downstairs for some hot chocolate—it reminds him of Gigi, and he misses her suddenly that he makes a note to contact her soon—and he sees that he's not the only one who's out of bed.

The TV's on, but she's lying on the couch, her eyes closed, her chest slowly heaving up and down to the rhythm of sleep, and he can hear soft snores coming from her.

And somehow he realizes he cares about Lizzie Bennet.

Not in a casual way, but in a way that he can only describe is similar to having a song stuck in your head for god knows how long, slowly piecing together lyrics until you finally figure out the name of it.

And then he shakes his head, settles for a glass of water and runs back up to his room, but before he does, he puts a blanket over her because he doesn't want to see her cold.

(She'd always think it was Jane, checking up on her.)

Months pass, the caring turns into feelings and it bites him back in the ass when he finds himself walking into a room, simultaneously proclaiming his love for her and insulting her family.

It doesn't end well—as over four hundred thousand people he doesn't even know can vouch for that—and it only gets worse for him.

He types in "Lizzie Bennet" onto YouTube and finds she's quite a hit, most of her videos talking about him in that stupid newsie hat that he's not even sure he wore to the wedding.

He forgets to eat that day, watching her videos back to back, not sure if the pangs in his stomach were due to his hunger or seeing him on screen next to her or each insult she'd said about him.

These videos got to show who she really was—but he doesn't hate her. Ironically, it's the opposite because he sees her for who she is: someone who comes from a dysfunctional but loving family, whose friendship was on the rocks but eventually came out even stronger, who's lively and funny and captivating in all the right ways to make even the tiniest detail about her life interesting to over a hundred thousand viewers every week.

So when he says to her that he doesn't care about the things she said about him, he says it with a smile, because he figures that if one good thing came out of her videos, it was that he fell in love with her properly.

(That instead of just knowing the lyrics to that song that was stuck in your head, you finally understood them.)

Even if she didn't feel the same way.

He hands her the letter, knowing he'd have to walk out of that room, trying to forget her. But not before he tries to at least make some things right.

He does try to get over her.

Fitz tries to make up for his god-awful wingmanning by buying him drinks, Bing occasionally calls him when he's not busy with school while he doesn't reply to Caroline's teasing texts about the incident, and he heads up with Gigi to the ski place that his family has spent Christmas at every year.

For a number of years now, it's only been the two of them, and usually it would have been fine with him, but it seems colder somehow and he can't explain it.

"William, are you alright?" He glances at Gigi, her cheeks pink from the cold, who hands him a cup of hot chocolate. "You're too quiet."

"I'm always quiet," he manages a soft smile.

"Not like this," she sits down in front of him, "Is it a girl?"

He chuckles at his sister, who takes this as some confirmation and gets excited. "Have you been trying to figure out some way to break it to your little sister that you finally found a girl whom you want to bring home to me?"

He sips his hot chocolate, and she doesn't give him time to interrupt, "Because, really, William, you know, I'm twenty now, so I totally understand if you want to have girls over or … something. You don't have to hide them."

For the first time in a while, his face contorts into a smile, and he responds with, "I'm trying to imagine the parade of casual lovers you think I'm keeping from you."

"So, you admit there is a parade of casual lovers."

"Gigi," he says in his I-don't-want-to-talk-about-this tone, "There aren't any casual lovers, believe me, much less a parade."

"Any not-so-casual lovers then?"

"Gigi." And he subconsciously tucks his chin back, slouching as much as William Darcy can slouch in a chair, which isn't lost on the younger Darcy.

"Who is it?" She asks, "I know you too well, Will."

After minutes of silence, he's pondering in his head whether or not to tell his sister about a girl whom he wishes he could bring home to her but can't, and she's staring at him, her stubbornness never wavering.

"Lizzie," he basically whispers, "Lizzie Bennet."

"Is she the one who you wrote The Letter to? About George and I?" She thinks back to when he called her in the middle of the night, vaguely asking for her permission to tell someone, and she gave it, thinking it was the least she could do for him.

He nods solemnly and she keeps the name in her head, preparing to do some hardcore creeping on this girl who has her brother in this bad of a state. "You met her over the summer?"

He nods, and the questions keep coming, "Does she like you back? Can I meet her? So, when's the wedding?"

"No, quite the opposite," he replies shortly, "And that's all I'm saying on this, alright? Goodnight, Gigi."

He kisses the top of her head softly, before heading off to his room, lying on his bed, not-sleeping like he usually does now, thinking about how he hadn't spoken that name in months, and he feels a sort of relief at doing it.

But at the same time, he wonders why it was so hard even speaking about her, and he's forced to realize that Lizzie Bennet, to him, just wasn't the kind of girl you could just get over.