A/N- Yes, I remember that I'm supposed to be working on A Meeting, but this story kept demanding to be written, so here I am, writing this on a dark lonely night. I hope you all like this as much as you liked A Meeting. This chapter is very depressing, so you might want to skip this.
Edward Fitzwilliam lay on his bed, wide awake. The entire household was asleep, but sleep eluded Edward. As it had for several weeks now. Darcy had asked him how he was up so early that morning. Truth was, he could barely sleep anymore. Useful when he was fighting in a war, but a nuisance when he was on leave, like he was now.
Edward sighed, flinging away the sheets and walking over to the window. The fresh country air soothed him somewhat, but he still felt agitated. He could hardly understand what was wrong with him. He seemed the same as ever to even those who knew and loved him best. None of them could see that his jokes were halfhearted and his laughter forced. None of them knew that around them, he was only going through the motions out of habit. His love of life had been extinguished, and no one noticed.
And it hurt. It hurt that no one cared enough to ask why he excused himself early every night. It hurt that no one noticed the growing dark circles beneath his eyes, that no one questioned the disappearance of his once voracious appetite. It hurt that no one could tell that he wasn't the same man they had waved goodbye to, all those months ago. That man was gone.
And no one noticed.
Not his parents who had always loved him as much as they loved their heir. Not his older brother, who had always looked after him, never letting him feel bad about being a second son. Not Darcy, who had always been like a second brother. Not his friends who he had known him all his life.
None of them saw how tormented he felt.
Edward had always thought himself to be rather transparent. His feelings had always been displayed by his face. Then how had this change gone unnoticed? Was it really so subtle that no one saw the difference? To him, it felt as though his whole world had turned upside down.
Maybe no one cared. Maybe he had been mistaken when he had thought himself well loved.
Maybe one day he would die in service, and no one would truly mourn him.
This thought had returned to him over and over again. Often he thought that it would be the best for everyone concerned if he could only change places with one of his fallen comrades. He could escape his lifeless existence.
It was hardly fair that better, more worthy men than him died and he lived. What dd he have to live for? No one needed him. He was of no use to anyone. Lately he had not even been of use to the men he commanded. How many of them had he led to their death?
It had been a relief to return home. He had hoped that he would not feel the guilt anymore at the thought of those who had perished under his command. They had followed him willingly. But he found no comfort. His conscience would not let him forget them.
And when he returned, he found out about Georgiana.
His poor little cousin.
She had needed him while he was gone, and he wasn't there. Wickham had nearly persuaded her to elope, and he wasn't there. The experience hurt her, and he wasn't there to offer comfort. Her father had thought well of him, well enough to make him her guardian and Edward had failed him.
He knew Darcy still felt guilty about what had happened, and he had been unable to reassure his friend. He only hoped Miss Elizabeth Bennet could succeed where he had failed so dismally. He hoped she could bring happiness and cheer into the Darcys' life. She certainly seemed to be succeeding, and he couldn't be happier about that.
His thoughts turned to his argument with Darcy that morning.
He hadn't meant to cause trouble, but he still felt he did what had to be done. Left to his own devices, Darcy would take way too long to do something about his affection for Miss Elizabeth, and he feared that his cousin might be too late.
Like he had been. To late to reach where he was needed. And condemned to loneliness forever because of it.
He couldn't let Darcy make a mistake like that. No, he had to ensure his cousin's happiness. Darcy and Georgiana both deserved it.
He thought of what he had once deserved himself. Contentment. Friendship. Love. He was no longer sure that he was worthy of it, but he desperately craved the happiness he had once had.
His throat tightened as he recalled what his life used to be like. What he used to be like. What he had lost. What he still appeared to have, but didn't.
A lone tear escaped his right eye. He hadn't been able to cry freely for months. That one tear made his heart feel more burdened, instead of less.
Sighing miserably, he returned to his bed and tried to sleep, hoping that the morning would be better.
That hope was all he had left.
A/N- I'm starting to have second thoughts about posting this. If you all think it's crap, please do not hesitate to tell me so.