He tries to walk slowly, to aim for a casual gait over his usual driven strides. These last ten minutes are the slowest he's ever relocated since his first steps as a toddler. But despite every effort, here they are, where their gates inevitably diverge much like the proverbial paths in the yellow woods.
He turns to face her, and she is stunning.
He's always been drawn to her eyes, to her movements, to the intensity of her being. But a different him was also drawn to her insight, and her wit, and her fascinatingly contemporary take on timeless themes.
To know both the bewitching intern and the faceless correspondent were one person – and to add to that knowledge the newfound ease he has in her lively presence – is frankly overwhelming. And it takes every last drop of his self-control not to drop to his knees and beg for her hand in marriage like every historical suitor of bygone times.
He hasn't had the courage to pick up another Austen since that fateful night in the then-Collins home.
Maybe today, on the plane, he'll read one again.
"You can call me anytime – or text – or, e-mail," he makes out awkwardly before offering a tentative smile. He keeps his hands firmly in his coat pockets, determined not to assault her by impulse. He's lucky enough that she's talking to him now.
"The new e-mail – right." She smiles. Her eyes rival the brightest stars in the sky. He can tell that she's happy, much happier than she ever was before.
And if she's doing so well without him – should he even try to hope that she'll consider letting him disrupt the equilibrium she has finally found?
If there's anything today's chance meeting has done, it's proving to him that he's not over Lizzie Bennet – and probably will never be.
Too bad she seems happy to just keep things that way.
"You have my number – right?" It's her turn to ask.
Darcy looks dumbly down before procuring his phone from his pocket. "Same number as before?"
"Yup."
"Then yes."
"Good."
"And you have – mine."
"Yes. I do."
Around them, a mixture of relieved and frazzled travellers hustle to haul their carry-on luggage to their respective gates. The clouds have finally cleared a little. It's a window of opportunity they can't afford to miss.
Darcy sighs, though he tries best to hide it.
"I guess I'll – see you around?"
"Mm hmm." She's swaying slightly back and forth. He's not sure what that mannerism means.
"I hope I'm not keeping you. My flight is – just a bit later."
"I know." But she doesn't move.
All around them, people move.
Neither of them move.
And Darcy tries to pull from the recesses of his mind what could be considered proper social behavior at a strange point in time like this.
"It was a pleasure seeing you again today," he says, realizing too late how stiff he must have sounded.
It's a good thing she smiles softly in response. "Me too."
Slowly, experimentally, he opens his arms. She steps forward slightly to give him a cordial hug.
He knows it's cordial – and short, and proper.
It just feels like it should be so much more than it is.
"I'll – see you around," he offers, again.
"See you," she echoes.
And he lets go and turns away before he can get teary-eyed.
He makes a bee line for his gate and chooses a seat as far away from the main concourse as possible. He's always been a man who feels keenly – an attribute that has led to his lifelong love of novels that engage human emotion in a variety of ways.
But, in the life he led before the whirlwind that is Lizzie Bennet, keeping those emotions inside had been easy.
She's changed him – in so many more ways than one – and the fact that he can't help expressing his feelings when it comes to her is one of them.
He likes to think he's kept his cool, likes to think he's been able to pull off a perfectly civil and appropriate conversation with her today, despite the pleasant suddenness of their convergence.
He's tried everything in his power to be a perfect gentleman – to prove, somehow, that he really is a better man than he used to be.
She didn't turn him away – but neither has she, quite reasonably, asked him to stay.
What did he expect anyway?
Just because he still likes her doesn't mean she likes him back. Just because his admiration and infatuation for her has only festered and grown doesn't mean any passing interest she may have had for him before hasn't fizzled and faded away.
All day, today, she's reciprocated every nicety he's offered. She didn't do more, or less.
Isn't that all he's allowed to expect?
Keen to distract himself until the long parade of people lining up for boarding thins, Darcy pulls out his laptop. His Google Chrome window lights up the screen, set to his e-mail inbox.
The device takes a few seconds to connect successfully to the Internet. The e-mails start flooding in the moment the connection is established.
More than half a dozen e-mails have loaded in a split second – but Darcy only has eyes for the latest one.
From: Airbnb
Subject: William, accept Elizabeth Bennet's trip invitation to Rosings, Ohio
His fingers tremble a little as he guides his trackpad to open the e-mail.
Get ready for Rosings!
Hi William, Elizabeth booked a place in Rosings and added you as a guest.
Then, right below that single line of text, a big, red button beckons: "Accept trip invitation."
He clicks it – and another e-mail chimes in right away.
From: Airbnb
Subject: Reservation Itinerary from Elizabeth Bennet
He opens it.
Hi William,
Elizabeth Bennet booked a place in Rosings and shared the itinerary with you.
Check in Today
Check Out TBA
The pictures attached are images long seared into his mental archive. It's that room, their room – the place where this entire probably fated relationship began.
He looks up to search for her in the crowd. It's silly, he knows. Her flight started boarding ten minutes before his did.
But he can and should afford to be silly sometimes.
So he packs up his laptop, grabs all his carry-ons, and runs back towards Gate 7.
The gate is empty when he gets there, save for a few frowning airline crew members. He really has no reason to think she's still around.
"Hey," she calls softly, from his side – and he turns instantly to face her, phone in hand.
"Hey," he replies, a little breathless. She tries to smile as demurely as she can.
The urgency on his face makes her feel just that much more hope that this move may not end up being a total disaster.
"I, uhm – the flight was overbooked," she explains, a little hastily. All attempts at a soft and feminine smile end up on the sheepish side of things. She sways her arms nervously. "I – took up the offer to be bumped to the next one."
"I – see."
"Yeah."
She watches him intently as he walks closer – until he's standing right in front of her. She catches a whiff of that smell that's distinctly him – that personal scent that she likes to believe she still remembers from their one and only overnight encounter.
"I have a question," he says, his voice riveting and low.
"Yeah?"
"It's about this trip invitation I got." He shakes his smartphone in the air.
"Mm hmm." She tries not to hold her breath. She does anyway.
"I really want to block off my schedule for it." There's a touch of British-ness in how he says 'schedule.' It just heightens his charm. "But I may need a little bit of – clarification."
"I see."
"Yes."
"About what?" She plays dumb. Her nerves are all over, and she hopes they don't show.
He offers a lop-sided grin, and she almost gives up all pretense of civility and lunges herself at him.
"I see there is a beginning date to this – but no end."
"Right."
"And may I – be enlightened as to what such a fact could imply?"
She smiles softly, a little more at ease. "I was thinking – of maybe leaving it open-ended? That is, as long as you'll have me."
"But I don't want it that way," he says. Her face falls instantly. But he goes on, "Because if we're in this, it won't be open-ended. I won't let it be. There's no ending to this that I will consider acceptable. If we go on this trip, the only option I find acceptable is the distinctly close-ended, probably-exclusive-for-the-rest-of-your-life sort. I refuse to play with feelings - yours, or mine. I don't do anything halfway, and if we're in this, we're in this."
She stares at him for one whole minute, the weight of his words sinking in slowly.
"Lizzie, I know it's overwhelming, but I – "
"Yes."
It's his turn to stop.
She reaches out her hand. She hopes he's going to shake it. She hopes that if he's crazy enough to propose that their relationship go so serious so fast – then he won't blame her for being up to it too.
"I accept," she declares.
Slowly, beautifully, his face morphs into the most handsome smile in the universe.
"Deal," he says.
And he doesn't just shake her hand.
He grasps it with so much certainty that he pulls her forward into his arms – and kisses her right then and there.
"Oh!"
The surprise lasts for all of two seconds – before she's kissing him back with complete investment and, in more archaic terms, a major case of reckless abandon.
She anchors her forearms around his neck. He presses her close by the small of her back.
To everyone passing by, it's basically a free show.
But she's a little too preoccupied to care.
Because here she is, Lizzie Bennet – finally, finally the heroine of her own story – finding that elusive new beginning with the one person who's long understood her inside and out. He's her prince, her knight in shining armor – her partner and her soul mate.
It took them a while to figure it out, but she couldn't be more relieved that they eventually did.
And when the PA system interrupts its own flight-listing with a reminder that travelers may not obstruct the hallways – repeat, may not obstruct – all they can do is chuckle, smile, and keep kissing some more.
A/N: It's such a cheesy rom-com moment, isn't it? But I couldn't help it. The story came to me this way! Also, quick note: I made up the part where you could set a trip to "indefinite." I just needed it for this story's sake. I hope it was a happy reunion for them! We just have one short epilogue to go :)