A/N: This plot is all thats mine. I do not own Fitzwilliam of Elizabeth or else I wouldn't be sharing. I wish I did though. It all belongs to Jane Austen et al.
All he could do was run. Faster and faster, shades of green blurred past him. Shadows haunted him, wails of sadness following, anger catching up, as though he was set upon by the Furies. He was weary yet he couldn't stop. He could hear the ghosts '-most unwillingly-my own feelings decided against you-unjust and ungenerous-spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you-so immovable a dislike-'. The hatred behind that voice was physically causing him pain, and he felt his energy slip from his body with every word. Flashes of memories sprung in and out of his mind, mere pictures making up one big story- a laugh escaping her lips as she glanced at him across a crowd-her chagrin at the thought of dancing with him-her look of incredulity mixed with mockery when she heard his views on accomplished women-her subtle scoff at his views on vanity and pride-her look of slight irritability during their only dance together- and then it got worse. He was stumbling, the pain these images caused was too much. If it was bad enough he was irritated with himself for not being able to hold up against the barrage to his mind, but now the small child in him, securely locked, hidden, and lost away in time after his mothers death, was trying to escape. The boy wanted to weep at the thought of being hated by the one he wanted most to be loved by. Moreover, he started to think that the carefully and strongly built up walls around his emotions were going to break any day. He feared that if they did his emotions would surely be displayed across his face. He couldn't bare that. He had seen what happened when he let his emotions be shown, and now he was being plagued by the repercussions. Soon the boy was crying as he fell hard to his knees, and realized he was looking at the hem of a lovely green dress. He looked up into the affronted and disgusted eyes of Elizabeth, and could only soundlessly plead for help. The little boy he knew he was-could see he was- curled up miserably in a corner as she sneered and walked away without looking back. He couldn't tear his eyes away, some horrid fascination made him watch, as one by one she was accosted by Collins, Wickham, even Fitzwilliam, and chose each one over him. In one last desperate attempt before she walked safely off into those woods that so tormented him, he half screamed half sobbed "E-
"Elizabeth!"
Suddenly everything was receding, the forest, the pain, the sight of 12 year old Fitzwilliam curled up miserably on the ground. Replacing it was the warm cream, red and gold accents of his bedroom, his comfy down king-sized bed beneath him, and the darling figure of his wife, leaning over him, brushing the hair out of his face, and softly saying his name in an attempt to wake him. He sat up an she did too, until she was sitting back on her heels, their faces close together. Her hands were still stroking his hair, the side of his face, his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. He could only look at her as if trying to determine if she were real.
"Fitzwilliam, darling, are you-" Her sentence was never finished as she had been rather violently hugged to his body and her husband's face buried in her shoulder. Not that she minded. Her hands started stroking his back, as he started stuttering about his dream. If she hadn't been so concerned for him, she might have thought it adorable. She hugged him even more tightly, and cooed soothing words in his ear. When they lay back down, he kept his arms tightly around her, and his head in the crook of her neck and slowly drifted off into sleep, the sound of her laugh drifting through his mind. Elizabeth saw all of this, and couldn't help feeling a strange joy. She delighted in the fact that he was the most happy when with her, that she was vital to him, and that there was a small child in him-neglected and small but still alive- that no one was shown. The boy was insecure, and easily worried and discouraged, and desperately wanted love. She knew that she could give him that love gladly, and basked in the glow that only a happily ever after could make.