A/N: I do not own Pride and Prejudice. That ownership belongs to Jane Austen. I fyou have any feedback, I welcome all criticism, productive and not so productive.

Le Cri de Coeur

Love, they say, can redeem even the darkest of hearts. It can soothe, calm and free the suffering from the relentless ghosts that haunt them, bringing peace to the mind, and joy to the soul. For Will Darcy, however, love had never been that kind. Deep in the blackened chasms of his heart, an inexorable ache shattered any semblance of stability he may have possessed, leaving him defenceless and cold. From the moment his eyes first caught hers, his heart had fallen, lost in their loveliness. He heaved a great sigh, his breath fogging the glass window at which he sat. It had been raining for hours. Each droplet had become a constant reminder of the despair that clawed at his mind. He grasped the drink beside him. The ice clinked as he greedily downed its contents, his fifth that hour. His eyes began to sting as the whiskey burned his throat. It had amazed him even now how one word could affect him so, destroying the stone walls he relied so heavily upon to keep him safe and his heart protected. A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he doubted that she too felt the heartache and devastation, which one word had caused.

The alcohol was beginning to take affect. The events of the day relinquished their suffocating hold, if only for the few moments until they were replaced by oblivion. In the comfort of his bed, his eyes begin to close. It had been some time since he had sought the consoling arms of the darkness. With one last sigh, Will knew it had once again taken claim to his soul.

***

Knock, knock. The soft tapping pulled him from his slumber. "Will, are you in there?" The gentle, yet slightly muffled voice resonated through the bedroom, destroying the beautiful silence that surrounded him. "Will, I know you're in there. Please open the door!" The desperation in the voice was accompanied by the rattling of the handle. He stayed quiet, hoping his silence would deter his unwelcome visitor, at least until the after affects of the alcohol had ceased playing havoc on his mind. "Will, open the god damn door! Will!" Thump, thump, thump. He began to believe that there really was no God in this world as each unyielding beat reverberated in his head. Groaning softly, he rose and moved wearily toward the door. He halted briefly as nausea overtook his senses and his hand gripped the wall for support. Slowly he regained his balance and with a breath, he readied himself, masking his despair behind a veil of annoyance. Click. Push. Groan. The opened door revealed the angered face of his cousin. "Luke…" a soft, broken whisper escaped Will's lips. The sight of his cousin caused his resolve to crumble.

***

Whatever anger that may have graced the features of Luke Fitzwilliam quickly disappeared. He had seen before, once upon a darker time, the look of utter helplessness that tarnished his cousin's handsome face. From the corner of his eye, Luke saw the empty bottle of whiskey and his eyes closed in pain. Taking a hesitant breath, Luke turned to Will and tentatively asked what had happened. He held his breath as he waited for cousin's reply; hoping history had not repeated itself.

"She hates me, Luke." Luke flinched at the sound of Will's voice, "She hates me."

"What happened, Will? Why does she hate you?" he asked, knowing full well who 'she' was. There was no reply, instead his cousin sank heavily onto the bed, head in hands.

"What happened? Will, please just tell me." The softness in Luke's voice gave way as he began to beg for an answer.

Will raised his head, frustration radiating from his body, "She hates me! What part of that can you not understand?" His voice cracked slightly, and looking down once more, he continued. "She could barely look at me, and when she did her eyes held so much disgust, so much hate. I..." Will's breathing became short and strained at the memory of her. Luke placed a comforting hand on his cousin's shoulder

"It's going to be all right Will. She'll see past the mask one day and realise how much of a mistake she has made." Will looked at him doubtfully, his breathing finally calm.

"No she won't Luke," he said with a shaking head. "She hates me."

"Did she actually say she hates you?" Luke had to ask the question.

"She said No, Luke. That was 'I hate you' enough for me."

"What do you mean she said 'No'?" Luke asked, curiosity thickening his voice.

"I… asked her to marry me," Will whispered, his voice so low that Luke had to strain to hear him speak.

"You asked her to marry you? Will, tell me you didn't say what I think you just said?" Luke watched as the coldness in his voice made his cousin flinch. Luke received a look of pure guilt, for that was all Will could muster. "What were you thinking? No wait you weren't thinking. How could you do something so stupid? I know you have this preconceived notion of love which is overthrowing any commonsense you may possess, but seriously marriage? Marriage?" Luke's voice grew louder and louder as he began to pace, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He stopped suddenly and turned towards his cousin. Studying his cousin's face, Luke hoped something that resembled either remorse or regret, would choose that particular moment to make an appearance. He knew he would sooner find a needle in a haystack. Throwing his hand against his forehead, Luke returned to his pacing. "I really can't believe you! You barely know each other and you ask her to marry you. What were you expecting Will? For her to throw herself at your feet with a resounding yes? We aren't living in a Jane Austen novel, Will." Taking a moment, Luke allowed reason and logic to replace the anger that plagued his mind. As he calmed, Luke began to analyse his cousin's situation. Realising something he turned sharply toward Will.

"You would have been nervous, and you ramble when you're nervous. Which means you would have said something insulting that was probably directed at her family. Am I right?" His cousin's silence said it all. No longer able to control the anger coursing through him, Luke let out a groan of frustration. "Jesus, Will, could you be anymore dense? You ask her to marry you, even though the both of you are way too young for such nonsense, and in the process of doing so, insult her family. Then you put her at fault because she didn't say yes. Now, here you are drowning your sorrows in whiskey because you can't come forward and admit you were wrong."

Will visibly paled as his cousin's words. The nausea returned with a sudden wave and Will stumbled toward the bathroom, unable to stomach the guilt of his recklessness. Flush, the sound of swirling water announced the return of Will, whose face held a pleading look. Luke simply shook his head, "Not this time Will. This is of your own making and I'm not going to waste valuable energy picking up the pieces. I don't care anymore Will. Tell the truth, don't tell the truth; just don't look to me for help. I'm done Will." With that said, Luke left the room. It was time that Will stepped up and took responsibility for his actions.

***

Will watched as his cousin left. The words Luke had spoken had brought clarity to his mind, something that had often evaded him. He walked slowly to his desk to where his computer lay. Hesitantly he opened his email and selected New. With each tap of his keyboard, he let his heart fill the blank page before him. For once, he knew what he had to do and he wasn't afraid.

My Dearest Lizzie…