They returned to the island, neither speaking much on the way back. Darcy went to Jo's room to dispense the medicine, while Eva changed into a swimsuit, threw on a pair of shorts, and took to her usual pool chair with a book. She had finished the Tolstoy and had moved to Balzac, though she regretted the decision immediately. She sat comfortably for about a half an hour before she heard a padding of shoes behind her.

"She wants to speak to you," Darcy said quietly before turning away. Eva heaved herself up and walked upstairs. She pushed open the door to Jo's room. Charlie stood and left.

"Thanks, Eva," he said before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

"Hey Jo," Eva said, walking to the bed and sitting down. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine, just a rather bad head cold." She sneezed. "I wanted to ask you something though."

"Yeah?"

"How're you doing?"

"Fine, it's warm, the food's good."

"How's Darcy?"

"Why didn't you ask him, he was just up here."

"Yeah, he seemed sort of…off. Did you yell at him?"

"Why is it always that I yelled at him? What if he just did something really shitty and I called him out on it?"

"Did he?"

"No."

"Is this about Shane?"

"Why would it be about Shane?"

"Because you've been insane around boys ever since Shane."

"Listen, I only told you about Shane so you would understand why I needed a new place to live."

"Yeah, you never told me all about Shane."

"Do you really want to hear?"

"Eva, just be nice to Darcy. He means well."

"They all mean well," Eva mumbled under her breath. "Especially yours."

"He is excellent," Jo said dreamily.

"Hon, go to sleep. You'll feel better when the meds kick in."

"Alright, darling. Play nice." Jo rolled over and promptly nodded off. Eva gave her a pat on the back and walked out, shutting the door behind her.

Eva padded back downstairs, grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen ad sliding her sunglasses back down her face. She saw Charlie and told him Jo was asleep. He nodded and thanked her, walking up the stairs. She went back to the pool, slipping into her normal deck chair. Of course he had to be there. He was always there, sitting in his stupid deck chair with his stupid book and his stupid hair and his stupid abs.

"So," she said. "You reading anything interesting?"

"Not at this juncture," he said, attempting to conceal the cover of his paperback. It was thin, probably Beckett or something equally ridiculous.

"You wanna hear about Balzac?"

"You seem far too interested in trying to have a conversation."

"I haven't talked to you much. I feel like I should be making up for lost time." He closed his book and looked at her.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Books. Jo told me you do something vaguely book-y." He smiled slightly.

"Yeah, vaguely book-y."

"Like what?"

"Nothing interesting. Just lots of paperwork. How's school going?"

"Alright. I'm almost done, but it's a bitch to get all the exams lined up. I'm hoping to finish around the end of May."

"Reading anything interesting?"

"Well, Balzac, but I wouldn't call him phenomenally interesting. Did you every read Spider? Patrick McGrath?"

"I can't say that I have."

"Oh, it's excellent, but I can't tell you what it's about unless you want me to spoil it. It's really good though."

"I feel obligated to ask if you've actually read it."

"Of course I have. It's not like Dostoyevsky. It's actually reasonable to read."

"I'll keep it in mind when I have a spare minute."

"I'm going to guess you don't have many of those."

"No, not many."

"Will I ever actually learn what you do?"

"All you need to know is that it has made me phenomenally wealthy and I have very little time to do anything else."

"It must be nice."

"What?"

"To enjoy what you do."

"Yeah, it's alright. You don't?

"I'm a student. I hate everything I do."

"Perhaps you'll find something you enjoy."

"I want to write," she said.

"And what do you propose to write, Miss Eva?"

"It sounds stupid when I say it out loud."

"I'm holding myself back from a rather mean response."

"I appreciate your decorum. Tell you what. When you tell me what you do, I'll tell you what my book's about."

"A fair enough deal," he said. He neglected to continue.

"Dammit, I thought that was gonna work."

"No such luck."

"I'm starting Catch-22 next."

"A little long, but I think you'll enjoy it."

"How bout On the Road?"

"Haven't read Kerouac in years, but it's age appropriate."

"Lolita?" He swallowed visibly.

"Never read it."

"Yes you have. There's absolutely no way you escaped college without having read it. Then again, you never read Gatsby."

"Still on about Gatsby, aren't you?"

"Always." The conversation seemed to peter out.

She read for a while, but figured she might as well get it over with. She sat up and turned to him.

"Sorry," she mumbled. He turned to look at her.

"Excuse me?"

"For freaking out, I'm sorry."

"I don't know to what you're referring."

"Shut up and let me apologize. The boat. For not talking to you, for making you do things you don't want to do. We don't have to go spelunking, and I'm perfectly fine just sitting by the pool. I'm sorry," she said. Darcy raised a brow.

"Ok," he said. Eva groaned.

"Didn't your mom ever teach you any manners?" she asked. Darcy looked down at his book.

"No," he said simply. Eva shrugged and stood up, slipping off her shorts and her sunglasses. Despite sitting by the pool looking at the ocean every day, she had rarely walked down to the beach, and she felt the entirely preposterous need to do a touch of yoga. Trying as hard as possible not to embody every possible stereotype, she walked through the sand and threw herself up onto her hands. Tumbling around, she laughed. She used to do this with her mother on vacation.

Eventually, she fell into the ocean and began to paddle around. The water was surprisingly warm, and she floated on her back, the waves brushing her and pushing her. Each time the water carried her back to shore, she stood and flounced back through the water, throwing herself into it with a splash. When she felt she had enough sand in her suit, she drew herself up and stood knee-deep. The sun was beginning to go down, growing red as the sky grew darker. She frantically ran back to the pool house, grabbed a paddleboard, and thrust herself into the water. She paddled furiously. The sun had gone further down now, nearly kissing the ocean. Fish nibbled at her toes, and she could have sworn she had seen dolphins playing on the horizon. The sun went down and she smiled, then started to paddle back in. She fished the board out of the water and nearly fell over at the weight of it. She righted herself and towed the thing inside. She toweled off and walked upstairs to dress for dinner.


After Eva had left to speak with Jo, he had settled into his normal chair. He missed her company, however silent she had been in recent days. He was still for a moment, but he sat up and put down his book, feeling the need to stretch tingle in his toes. He stood up and bent over, wrapping his arms behind his back. That was better. He itched with the need for movement. He hadn't run in days. Though Charlie's island was impressive, it wasn't blessed with an inordinate number of roads or trails, and Darcy felt it a waste to spend time in the basement of Netherfield, which was home to the gym. Besides, he could run when they were stateside. Then he wouldn't be wasting time he could have been spending with her. He sat down and picked up his book.

He hated himself for his obsession, his fixation with this near-child. Hell, she was almost a bloody nymphet. Speak of temptation.

The conversation had been interesting to say the least, though confusing. She wanted to be a writer. Perhaps he could volunteer his… no, that would be an abuse of power. Then again, it wouldn't be the first time he'd taken advantage of his job. Of course, Caroline had been a mistake. Good thing that hadn't gone anywhere.

"Sorry," he heard her whisper. He wasn't sure he had heard her right.

"Excuse me?" Why would she possibly need to apologize to him?

"For freaking out, I'm sorry." He was confused.

"I don't know to what you're referring."

"Shut up and let me apologize. The boat. For not talking to you, for making you do things you don't want to do. We don't have to go spelunking, and I'm perfectly fine just sitting by the pool. I'm sorry," she said. He raised a brow.

"Ok." Eva groaned.

"Didn't your mom ever teach you any manners?" she asked. Darcy looked down at his book.

"No," he said simply. She had left.

She had apologized to him. Why had she apologized to him? Sweet, brilliant Eva, who hadn't said a word to him in days, was apologizing. He had processed too slowly to adequately fill his side of the conversation, and she walked away in a huff. He had butchered another conversation with her; perhaps it shouldn't have come as a surprise.

She tumbled on the beach, laughing like a small child. She was gorgeous, everything beautiful in a package kept from him. She was tantalizingly close, and utterly, impossibly far away.

He cast her from his mind and settled in with his book. Gatsby was captivating, once he had bothered to read it.


With medicine in her system, Jo felt better enough to begin to wobble about Netherfield, even joining the rest for dinner that night. She munched on jicama and pineapple while the rest luxuriated in the normal feast of fresh fish. After dinner, they all sat near the fire pit and swapped stories. Eva, having gone through an above-average amount of tequila, was easily coaxed into conversation. Darcy was not, and spent most of the hour typing on his laptop.

"Darcy," Eva slurred, "What're you doing?"

"Writing," he said simply.

"I thought you didn't do writer-y things."

"Not often, though work correspondence can't be neglected for too long."

"You're boring. BO-RING, with a capital lots of letters."

"I can't disagree," he said mildly. Eva blew a raspberry and stumbled up to the bar, tripping over her own feet as she walked. Jo was tucked into Charlie's shoulder, snoring softly.

"Should we cut her off?" Charlie asked.

"I think she's taken care of it," said Darcy, gesturing to Eva, who couldn't seem to get the lid off the bottle.

"Child-proofing skills at work, I see. Speaking of that, how's Georgie?" Darcy glared at him.

"Fine, though I don't care to speak of her around these…people."

"For Christ's sake, Darcy," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"No offense meant. It's just," he groaned and continued, "I shouldn't be here, shouldn't have the distractions. This is important, really important."

"You're getting stressed out. You want to leave early."

"It's not that."

"I get it, there's no need to explain it to me. I'm your friend. We'll leave the day after next. It's only two days before we were supposed to leave anyway," Charlie finished. Darcy looked up at his friend, mouthed a few words of gratitude, and went up to his room. Eva, realizing there was no chance of opening the bottle, realized she was being what she believed was an intrusion, and followed Darcy up the stairs, leaving Jo and Charlie to themselves. Charlie stretched, then snuggled into next to Jo, fire crackling beside them.

Author's Note: Here's to MadAboutAusten for suggesting more lit conversations. Hope they aren't too annoying/poorly written.

Much love and best wishes,

Zoe