A/N: The wonderfully written, acted and scripted Lizzie Bennet Diaries web series and some wonderfully written fanfics (particular kudos to TheGreatSporkWielder, IBuriedTheLede, aeternamente13, Ieyre, NotAContrivance and imaginarycircus - the latter at AO3) have induced me to write my first ever fanfiction (and first foray into fiction for about a decade). I have absorbed virtually all of the LBD fanfiction, and quite a lot of the aformentioned writers' stories and characterisations have become my headcanon and have may have unwittingly influenced this story (as careful as I have been to avoid any conscious inclusion of their ideas). This is my attempt at giving something back to a community that has given me great pleasure over the last couple of months - I hope you find this a "decent enough" contribution.
A/N#2: This is take two for this story after it was removed a couple of days after I first published it for being "In the wrong category or wrong site" - um, okay, thanks for that welcome to the site, dear anonymous reporter. I may have taken that as a sign that it was not meant to be and not bothered posting again if not for lovely reviews I had received from an anon, StargazerBabells, hrhdana, Satirise, Lotuslita and evi ive, who made me feel it was worth reporting. Finally, a gigantic thank you to NotAContrivance for helping me try to understand what had happened, encouraging me to repost and making me feel welcome here - fingers crossed this one sticks. Without futher ado...
The days during which he quashed all thoughts of her lead to the nights during which he dreamt of her - as if the depths of his mind could only contain so much Lizzie before she bubbled up to the surface. She was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, head leaning against the architrave, watching him intently, piercing him with her eyes, as he woke. "Darcy! I've driven all the way here to discuss Tolstoy with you and you won't even get out of bed." He couldn't move and he couldn't speak. He could only stare and hope that she could read his expression, afraid that anything he did or said would come out the wrong way. Lizzie was disappointed in him, "I thought you were good for something. I thought you were good for this."
Darcy woke, exhaled forcefully and waited for, willed, his heart to stop racing and his mind to return to reality - to his lonely bed, in his lonely house, in this, his Lizzie-free life. But this house isn't lonely, he reminded himself, Gigi's here for the holidays. His life is filled with her and work and Bing and Fitz. Life is good. Not perfect. But good. These mantras leveraged him out of bed and took him to downstairs to the pool, where lap after lap left him with a mind empty of everything but the need to breathe, to stroke and to kick. Breathe, stroke, kick.
Over breakfast he made a start on the day's emails. Then, his heart and stomach did their now customary lurch as he checked Twitter; they settled back into their usual positions once it was clear that there was nothing new from lizziebennet. Not that he was watching her videos anymore. He'd made a firm decision to stop doing that once he knew she'd read his letter. By then he already had more than enough to mull over and had indeed spent much of the past two months doing just that: first with anger at Lizzie's uncivil and vehement rejection and his online humiliation that quickly faded as he composed his explanatory letter and the realisation dawned on him that if not for his own flaws - his pride and reticence and his difficulty in expressing himself to Lizzie - he might have spoken of all these things to her, naturally, over the course of their relationship - acquaintance, he corrected himself, firmly.
If only he'd trusted her (and himself) he could have known how she perceived Bing and Jane's relationship, he could have gently persuaded her to see the less-than-charming side of George's personality, he could have shown her how he loved her and not just have it tumble out of him in a selfish, thoughtless, tactless rush of conceit and insults. He mentally kicked himself again for the way he had approached her, not just on that fateful day, but during their entire acquaintance. But he's not kicking himself as hard as he used to, understanding that he can't change any of that, but he can-
"Good morning, brother dear," Gigi's teasing affection broke his train of thoughts.
"Good morning, Gigi," he replied, warm but a little distant.
Gigi quietly sighed at his wan smile, one of countless indications of the strong emotions her brother had clearly been grappling with recently. Not that he'd confided in her. Oh no, as much as he encouraged her to talk to him, he would not be convinced that she was adult enough to share his worries and ease his burden. She had her suspicions about the source of his distraction though and they were strengthened by the wounded look that had flashed across his face when she casually asked about Lizzie Bennet at Thanksgiving. The stony dismissal of her inquiry forbade any further discussion. Prevented from providing any explicit aid, Gigi had simply resolved to be gentle with her brother, because goodness knows he was not gentle with himself.
She grabbed an apple from the bowl at the centre of the table. "Would you like to escape to another world tonight?"
Darcy cocked his head ever so slightly to the side. Gigi grinned at his confusion. "The Hobbit offers a good three hours of escapism."
"But I haven't read the book," he instantly demurred.
Gigi's face fell. "Oh… well, I guess-"
Darcy cringed inwardly, if he couldn't be a little more fun and a little less serious with his sister then what hope did he have with anyone else? "But I don't suppose they'll be checking my credentials when we buy the tickets."
"Good," Gigi smiled. "I can get you my copy of the book if you want to speed-read it today."
"Thanks, I should be able to squeeze it in after my lunch meeting," he said wryly.
Gigi laughed. "I'll see you tonight then" and she made to leave the room, absentmindedly tossing the apple in her hand, when Darcy called out after her.
"Gigi, could you lend me The Hobbit anyway? I think I'd like to read it, when I get a chance."
She stopped and caught the apple - fantasy novels weren't really Will's thing - before replying, "Of course."
"Thanks", he picked up his computer, and gave her a quick hug and a smile, "enjoy your day, Gigi."
As they parted ways, Gigi decided the day was off to a good start. Darcy wondered if Lizzie would enjoy discussing the relative merits of The Hobbit on page and on screen. He briefly closed his eyes in the hope that he could also close his mind to the thought.
"Has it, er, been a busy morning?" He asked, checking her name tag - Georgina, that's right - as she made his coffee.
"Busy, as always," she replied chirpily.
"Did you know, your, um, name is very similar to my sister's?" He continued awkwardly.
"Oh? What's your sister's name?" She seemed genuinely curious.
"Georgiana."
"How lovely! Well, there's your coffee, sir. Have a nice day." She turned to the next customer.
Darcy didn't need to buy this coffee - he could get a much better one, much more conveniently, at work, but he'd been practising this lately, trying to talk to people outside of Pemberley and his close circle of friends. His unease with strangers was a flaw that he had always readily acknowledged, but Lizzie was the only one question his pride in it: "I suppose it's beneath you to take the trouble to improve yourself." Of course, he didn't truly understand her until it was too late, but he was willing to accept her criticism now and he was determined, absolutely determined, to act upon it.
A small, persistent voice stabbed at at him, pointing out that she would never know the changes she was effecting in him. Another part of him thrilled at the remote possibility of meeting her again and showing her… What? That he could politely order a coffee? It was hard to know how well he was going anyway - the coffee girl smiles at him when he comes in and politely converses with him, but isn't that what she's is paid to do? Darcy sighed outwardly, earning a curious look from the receptionist as he crossed the lobby.
Important meetings bring out the best in Darcy. He gets an adrenalin rush when he shares his thoughts, and listens to his colleagues sharing theirs, from the cut and thrust of the debate that doesn't always fall in his favour, and from guiding the meeting in such a way that everyone is allowed to play to their strengths. Everyone had dispersed from the meeting room, keen to put their plans into action, and Darcy was no less keen, but as he rose to leave the room he found himself standing as he had been as he finished his initial presentation. The same position in which he'd been when the thought of Lizzie, in that room, her auburn hair shifting over her shoulders as she leaned forward, blue-green eyes blazing, as she prepared to launch into a critique of his presentation. His heart had leapt on cue, but the daydream had flitted by in a moment, and he (and his heart) had quickly fallen back to reality and the matter at hand.
The daydream itself was a relic of a time, at Collins & Collins, when he'd taken to imagining how well Lizzie would fit at his company, where she'd see him at his best, and how well they'd balance their work and their personal relationships: all friendly professionalism at work and so much more to each other everywhere else. He shook his head at his past naïveté and his present train of thought. This was not the time and place and if he wasn't careful this day would descend into one of those days where Lizzie ventured from the periphery of his thoughts to smack-bang in the middle of them. Granted, those days had mostly been before he'd confessed his feelings to her, and just after, when he found himself replaying that heated encounter over and over, alternately arguing and pleading with her to see him as he wished she would see him. At first he came out the best in those imaginary discussions, but soon enough Lizzie was the clear victor: she had misunderstood him, but he had given her very little reason to try. Finally - too late - he saw himself as she saw him and he found that he needed to change. Meanwhile, his heart begged him to stop taking it on the Lizzie Bennet themed roller coaster ride, and so he resolved to push her out of his thoughts, wherever possible, as he would do now.
"Were you flirting with her, Will?" Gigi asked incredulously, as he returned from the ticket booth.
Darcy raised his eyebrows, "Hardly. I was simply being friendly."
"To a complete stranger? Didn't you once say it was a waste of your energy?"
"I was wrong." Darcy offered a thoughtful Gigi his arm and they strolled into the theatre.
It wasn't the best film Darcy had ever seen - the plot was stretched too thin - but it was beautifully shot and while he wasn't completely able to lose himself in the story, he had been absorbed in the cinematography and making critical mental notes. Although that was probably not quite what Gigi had been hoping for when she invited him to 'escape to another world.'
"Thanks for suggesting tonight. It was good to just…relax for a bit," Darcy said, as they arrived home.
"What are little sisters for if not tearing their serious older brothers away from work occasionally?" She teased, before her manner shifted from light-hearted to earnest, "It's really good to be home with you."
The hug she gave him, slightly longer than usual, conveyed all her worry and care for him. Perhaps, he thought, their Christmas break would be a good time to confide in her about what - who - he had been aching over all this time.
Darcy smiled, "And it's really good to have you home. Good night."
"Night, brother dear," chimed Gigi, light-hearted again, as she headed to her room.
Darcy made his way upstairs with an equanimity he had not felt for weeks. Upon entering his room he noticed the copy of The Hobbit that Gigi had left on his bedside table during the day and as he prepared for bed he wondered if Lizzie even liked The Hobbit, shaking his head at the ludicrousness of inventing that preference for her that morning (assuming he knew her mind was one of the many mistakes he had made). Never mind, it wouldn't hurt to expand his reading into the fantasy realm - chances are the book would be better than the movie.
He sank into bed, but had no desire to read. Instead, his thoughts turned to a scenario he'd started to imagine recently: a chance encounter with Lizzie that gives him the opportunity to begin again. This time around he will show her the best side of himself and how he's changed: he's recognised his mistakes, he's working on his flaws. He hopes she would understand that he's changed not just because he loves her, but because he respects her and, by extension, her family. Inevitably, this imagined second chance leads to an imagined life that includes Lizzie - a house that is no longer lonely, but filled with Lizzie's laughter and energy, and a bed that is no longer empty, but filled with Lizzie curled up beside him.
He smiled at this indulgence and permitted his pleasant thoughts to run on a little longer, after all he hadn't thought much about Lizzie today, not much at all.