Elizabeth breezed into work the next day, smiling broadly, and listening classic Beastie Boys on her earbuds. She fixed her usual cup of coffee with a general feeling of joy. She felt a tap on her shoulder and yelped.

"Whoa. Didn't mean to scare you."

"Meg," she smiled.

"Long time no see," Meg said.

"I think it's been a day."

"I know, but you usually end up texting me complaining that you are bored."

"I was actually was busy yesterday." Elizabeth couldn't help the giant smile spreading across her face.

"What? Are you dating someone? You are! Since when?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I'm not dating anyone."

"Then you are…sleeping with someone? Semantics."

"No. I'm not doing anything with anyone. I just had a good day yesterday." She sat down to eat the breakfast burrito she had bought on the corner. Meg sat down next to her.

"There's something you're not telling me. Why? Just tell me."

"Ok. I'm going to, but you have to promise two things."

"Yeah, sure."

"I lied to you. Just forgive me and don't get mad about that." She stopped to smile sweetly. "Second, it's weird. I know it. So you don't have to tell me it's weird. Because I've known it from the beginning."

"Oh jeez. It can't be this bad. Just tell me."

"Ok." She stopped and rubbed a spot on the table with her napkin. "Ok. Remember the head injury patient from a few nights ago who thought it was 1818?"

"Yeah. I wonder what happened—" She stopped. Wide-eyed she said, "Elizabeth, you slept with him?"

Elizabeth groaned. "I told you. I didn't sleep with anyone. The guy at the shelter wasn't very nice that night."

Now it was Meg's turn to groan.

Elizabeth continued, "He wasn't very nice and I just got a good feeling about Darcy."

"Darcy?"

"That's his name. That's what I call him."

"He's not a puppy."

"It's his last name. I didn't nickname him or anything. Anyway. We got dinner and he slept on my couch. And the next day his psych consultation didn't go the way I thought it would. Our social work office has been non-existent. And I'm just letting him stay with me for a few days."

"A few days? And then what?"

"I'm going to find a good halfway house or something. Or group for people displaced in time at least," she smirked.

Meg kept her deep frown, "A halfway house? You're in way over your head."

"Meg, I know what it sounds like. Ok. Maybe I am over my head because I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow, but he's really nice."

Meg's jaw dropped. "He's really nice. Are you serious right now? You like him! You like a guy who thinks it's 1850 and is completely homeless. Penniless too, I bet."

"He's actually from 1818."

"Elizabeth, do you believe him?"

"No. Of course not." She stared at the half eaten burrito in front of her. "Sometimes. I don't know. Maybe. Please, don't think I'm crazy."

"Elizabeth, do you hear yourself?"

"Meg, do you? You were the one talking about wormholes with Mark when he came in. You're the one who believes in dreams and fate and all of this hippie stuff. And now when something out of the norm is happening to me…something insane, but maybe I actually believe it, you have to act all logical on me."

Meg was silent for a moment. "There's a difference between believing in signs from the universe and actually having a crush on a person who might have serious mental health issues."

"He doesn't, Meg. I know it's hard to believe, but he doesn't. I just…know. I've never been this kind of person. I'm all about the evidence and the diagnosis. I lived for my textbooks. I mean I still have all of them in my living room."

"Yeah, I know. I kept, like, three."

"So you jut have to trust me when I say I know what I'm doing."

Meg turned away and washed her coffee down the sink. After a minute, she turned back. "Ok. But I want to meet him. Again."

"Come over tonight. He's only staying for a couple more days."

"Is 9 too late? I really have to go home and shower."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Sure. Just don't be weird."

"I'm never weird."

"Don't interrogate him."

"Do you not want me to come over?"

"No, it's cool. I just don't want it to be awkward."

"It won't. I still have your dress. I'll come drop it off. Not awkward."

"Ok. Just be chill. He's interesting. He's even funny too. He is just a very sweet guy."

Meg rolled her eyes and murmured, "I can't believe this."

Darcy gingerly opened the top of the laptop, his heart pumping quickly. He scoffed at himself for being nervous to use an object, new or not. Before she had left for work, Elizabeth had left him a metro card, forty dollars, and laptop —after a brief explanation how to use Google, by which Darcy had been majorly impressed.

"I can inquire of it anything and it will supply an answer?"

"Basically, yeah."

"Incredible," Darcy marveled.

"Sure. I just thought you could use it to figure some things out. Get any of the burning questions you have solved."

"Thank you, Elizabeth," he said, lightly touching the tips of her fingers.

After she left, he contemplated what to do with his empty hours. For ten minutes he paced. He felt trapped in the small apartment. He needed to court her, but he had very limited means. There was also the matter that he deeply wanted to repay the generosity that she had shown him, but he had no means to do this whatsoever. She often declared she was starving, especially after work. If he could have a meal ready…He just needed to learn how to use the stove, purchase food, and learn how to cook. The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement at the thought. Fortunately, Elizabeth had supplied him with a machine that she claimed could support him in these kinds of endeavors.

Once he opened the laptop, his nerves calmed and he typed with much deliberation and hardly any speed, "How does one cook a meal?" He read a few articles but most were about cooking for one person. How would Elizabeth type it? "How do you cook a meal?" Much better articles came up. Then he typed, "What should I cook?"

It was no wonder Elizabeth did not keep any servants. How easy it was to obtain what you wanted, he marveled. Of course, he then realized, that without servants, he would have to prepare a meal. When the plot first came to him, he was thrilled to attempt to do something on his own and prove his worth. Now that he had the information necessary, he was beginning to feel a stir of annoyance. Cooking was beneath him. Why didn't Elizabeth have servants? In some ways she seemed very poor indeed, but by her own admission she was not. However, her lot in life, the hours she had to labor, the smallness of her living space did speak to the life of a tenant.

This new, modern society was so very different from what he had known. He couldn't help speculate that Elizabeth might consider coming back with him with alacrity. If indeed it were possible. He had seen the force that had carried him to this time, but she had not. Maybe if he opened the door and held her hand…He forced himself to think on matters as they currently stood. It was a big leap from their present relationship to one where Elizabeth agreed to be his wife. He remembered when he proposed to her the first time and how well that went.

The recipe he found on the internet promised to be completed within thirty minutes. It was food he had never eaten before, but it looked appetizing and only had six ingredients. Prepared with the list of ingredients needed for the meal tonight, Darcy ventured outside for the first time. Hands shaking against his will, Darcy walked down to the bodega where Elizabeth had said he could buy food if he got hungry.

Finding the food took some time. He paced the aisles multiple times. His ears went hot when the shopkeeper asked if he needed assistance. Embarrassed, he shook his head no, assuming he was attracting attention. Finally, he stood in line and followed what the others did to pay. In the end, he was not humiliated. He had conquered this challenge.

He walked home with a warm and comfortable feeling of pride that he had been missing these last few days.

That feeling dimmed when he began to cook. It took him one hour to get a pot of boiling water. It took him two bags of pasta because the first was a mushy mass that did not resembles the shapes in the picture on the screen. The mixing part was not hard. He made a sauce without incident and soon he began to enjoy himself. Dipping a finger in the sauce he was delighted to find it tasted good, delicious even.

It was seven in the evening and Elizabeth would be home any minute. His heart began to speed and he scowled at himself for being so juvenile. 'Confidence, man,' he thought. But then he wasn't just nervous. He was exhilarated at the thought of being with her again. He was in love with her. Not just the memory of her or the hope her presence inspired. He loved her for the qualities she possessed when she had been his wife. But for whom she was in this time, also.

Elizabeth burst through the door. "It is hot out there!"

"Yes, I know."

"So you went outside by yourself today. Wow. How did that go?" She threw her bag on the chair and went to wash her hands in the small bathroom.

"I consider the trip a success," he smiled, turning to stir the pot on the stove with a wooden spoon.

She dried her hands on the worn hand towel and looked over his shoulder. "You cooked! You are learning people skills. Is it good?"

"How can you dare to ask me that when I worked so hard with these hands all day?" He raised his hands up with a slight smile on his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your fragile feelings," she smiled, "It looks great. It really does. First cooking attempts aren't always successful."

"Let me put your fears to rest. It is indeed edible."

"Well, I'm starving. Let's eat.

They ate their meal in relative quiet punctuated by Elizabeth's frequent praise for Darcy's food. They spent the rest of the evening in a quiet state, a nervous energy humming in the apartment. Elizabeth was suddenly very nervous for Meg's arrival and Darcy busy contemplating what he should do next in his plan to court her. After a long period of silence, Darcy knew he needed some answers from her.

"Do you think you would always like to work at the hospital?" Darcy asked.

"Yes, probably. Maybe when I have kids I'll join a practice, but I like the thrill of emergency medicine."

"You mean you wish to work once you are married? What about your duties to your home?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "What about the duties to your home? Do you expect men to stay home once they are married?"

"No. Someone must be in charge of the income of the family."

"I don't think there is a reason to have this argument. We will never agree. I know it must be a hard concept to wrap your mind around. But I will assure you that a family can maintain their home while the wife has a career. It's a benefit of modern society. Trust me. My mom worked. Look how great I turned out."

"I just feel a woman is happier running a household and pursuing whatever accomplishments please her than working for twelve hours a day."

Elizabeth looked at him crossly, "You're being pretty presumptuous. I like my job, you know that."

"It's the only life you've ever known. Your mother had to work also. Perhaps, you would like something different."

"Maybe, but I doubt it. It just doesn't appeal to me. Also, my mom didn't just have to work. She had a career. She's a lawyer."

Darcy stared at her intently and leaned towards her, "You cannot always know what you will want."

Elizabeth sat back in her chair, taken back by his sudden intensity. "Sure. But I just don't think you would ask me these questions if I were a man. Why should a man never have to consider things like this?" She was annoyed. She shouldn't be. It wasn't like she was speaking to a man from 2016.

Darcy's face fell. "I've upset you. I just had hoped…" he trailed off, but Elizabeth wasn't anxious to hear about his hope and didn't press his thoughts further. Instead she reached over and fingered an errant curl by his ear. His hair was closely cropped to his head and wavy, but it was getting curlier by the day. "Your hair is getting longer. It grows fast." She dropped her hand and smiled.

For a moment Darcy had stopped breathing as he felt her fingers on his skin. He stared at her, unsure what to do. He knew what he wanted to do. He had been aching for her since he found her and the ache for her only grew as he got to know this modern Elizabeth.

Elizabeth shrugged and was about to say something when the doorbell rang.

She jumped on her feet. "I didn't tell you. My friend Meg from the hospital wanted to stop by and drop off a dress she borrowed." She rolled her eyes, "Ok. She wanted to meet you too."

She crossed the living room and opened the door. "Hey! We just finished eating. Do you want some?"

Meg walked in, blonde curls bouncing around her ears. "No, thanks. I just had a frozen burrito. Wow! Did you cook?" she asked, noticing the food. "I didn't know you cooked."

Darcy stood at the table, having leapt to his feet when Elizabeth stood.

Elizabeth glanced at him while replying to Meg. "I didn't. Darcy did. Darcy, do you remember Meg?"

"Yes. I believe so. How do you do?"

"Quite well, thank you," Meg answered formally. From behind Darcy, Elizabeth glared. Meg mouthed "what?" innocently. Darcy turned to look at Elizabeth, "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said. "Let's just sit."

For awkward minute no one spoke. "So, how was work, Meg?" Elizabeth asked.

Much to everyone's relief, Meg proceeded to tell a story about a patient she met that day with various strange symptoms. Unfortunately, when the story ended the silence set in again.

"So, Darcy, what are your plans?"

"Meg…" Elizabeth started.

"Plans?" Darcy asked.

"For the future? How long are you planning on staying with E, here?" Meg crossed her arms and looked sternly at Darcy, her eyebrows raised.

"My hope is to return home soon," Darcy replied flatly.

"Really? How?" Meg propped her chin on her fist and looked Darcy over skeptically.

"We're going to figure it out," Elizabeth interrupted patiently.

"Both of you?" Meg turned her doubtful gaze onto Elizabeth.

"Yeah soon," Elizabeth said shortly, giving her an exasperated look.

Meg stopped and winced apologetically.

Thirty excruciating minutes later, Meg left. Elizabeth followed her out into the hallway and shut the door. "Hey. You weren't exactly nice."

"Sorry. He's not exactly charming, is he?"

"You probably made him nervous. It's not like you were trying to make him feel comfortable either."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Well, at least he's not smarmy. I mean you can see that he's not trying to charm the pants off of me so he can stay with you."

"Good point. But still. You know. Be careful. Kick him out tomorrow."

"We'll see. Love you."

"Love you too."

When Meg turned the corner, Elizabeth went to get back inside the apartment only find that she was locked out. "Seriously?" she grumbled and knocked.

Darcy opened the door within seconds of her knock.

As soon as she was in the door, she let out a breath. Darcy smirked at her. She smiled back. "You could have tried to be a little more charming."

Darcy shrugged. "I do not easily converse with people I do not know well."

"Well, you didn't help your case with her."

"I don't particularly enjoy performing for strangers."

Elizabeth sighed. "I would argue this point further, but you'll be gone by the weekend and then it won't matter anymore, I guess."

Darcy's heart sunk. She was right that he did not help further his case.

However, Darcy was not gone by the weekend.