NOTES: Darcy's POV, another sorta short chapter. Next will be Lizzy's. The night is not over, and neither is the angst. This and the next though, will be the last chapters of FULL-ON angst.

I'm not sure how I'll categorize the ones after that— I'll prbly have to write them first ;)

Anyway, stay strong y'all, and check back again soon! ~Vinny

Darcy couldn't breathe. The crowd seemed like it was pushing in on him, the air swelling and solidifying in his throat. Lizzy turning away from him, not looking back. One foot in front of the other, he pushed on, not knowing or caring where his steps took him. Her green eyes downcast. Her lips trembling.

She was gone. He was leaving, and she had already left him.

He found himself at a bar. "Bring me something strong," he gasped out at a waiter, "Now."

The waiter, a dark-skinned man with a twitch in his eye, frowned, but Darcy had already turned away. His heart was hammering. His hands were shaking. He might be dying. He might be already dead.

She said she loved him. But she didn't like him.

Fuck, he needed a drink.

"Hey, man! How're ya holdin' up?"

Fuck, he needed to get away.

Darcy looked to his left, to where his cousin had a meaty arm around his shoulder, and was grinning at him stupidly. Darcy didn't have the energy to hide his emotions.

Quickly, Williams' round happy face morphed into one of concern. "Darcy— what happened? You look like shit on ice."

"Lizzy…," he paused, and grabbed the drink for the twitchy waiter, downing it in one gulp. "She said we should take a break."

"What?!" Williams cried. "But y'all are so good together!"

"I thought so too," Darcy said gloomily, glaring down at his hands, "but apparently I'm the only one."

Fitzgerald Williams was an emotional man. It didn't take much to make him empathetic, or excited. But for him, it was still difficult to deal with real sadness. Especially in someone like Darcy. So, instead of talking, he just patted his cousin's shoulder, and stayed with him.

Caroline Bingley was a vengeful woman. It didn't take much for her to act irrationally, or cruelly. But for her, it was difficult to see the exact consequences of her actions. Especially when it involved someone like Lizzy Bennet. So, instead of coming up with a brilliant plan to destroy her and Darcy's relationship, she just took her brother in law (Mr Hurst)'s secret flask, and poured it into a wine glass.

"Here," she said, thrusting it into the hands of a passing waiter, "take this to Elizabeth. The small, freckled one in the blue and pink dress. She's.. a friend of mine. Make sure she gets it— it's her favorite."

Caroline gave the twitchy waiter her best smile, and sauntered away.

Mr Hurst's alcohol was strong enough to clean wounds. It would certainly make little Lizzy Bennet into a fool— she would probably try to sing or cry or vomit everywhere.

If Caroline was lucky, she would even get alcohol poisoning.

She smiled to herself, genuinely, her red-stained lips pulling back into a canine grin. Oh yes. This would be fun indeed.

The waiter, for his part, stood there for a moment, looking after the bone-thin woman with the wolf-like smile. He had a hard time believing that Lizzy (a very nice woman, by his judgement) would be 'friends' with someone like that.

Hazeem Satti was an honest man. A good man. It didn't take much for him to be happy in life, or in work. But for him, it was difficult to choose between what he was asked to do and what was right. Especially when it involved the only kind person at this party. So, he made a decision.

Instead of doing what the scary skinny woman wanted, and bringing Lizzy a stranger's drink, Hazeem placed the wine glass on the bar, next to the sturdy looking man with the haunted deep brown eyes— the one who had been rude to him, just a moment ago, ordering him around.

He looked like a strong man, Hazeem reasoned. He could handle a bit of wine better than the petite Lizzy.

Without hesitating, the rude man took the wine and drank it all. Hazeem raised his eyebrows and backed away. In his experience, rich white people were NOT fun to be around when intoxicated.

And this man (whoever he was) was obviously not going to be in his best mind, very, very soon.

"Fuckin' hell, I hate m'self," the drunk man mumbled into the bar.

His companion, a much less drunk man with a round face, was shaking his shoulder. "C'mon. Get up. I dunno how much you had, but we need to get you home."

"Noooononono," Darcy groaned, pushing himself up to a wobbly seat, "No. 'M not goin' home. Not 'til everthin's fixed wit' Lizzy."

Williams rolled his eyes. "I already told you. Nothing's going to be fixed tonight. Just let her cool down. YOU need to sober up before you talk to her."

"But I dinna when tha'll be!" Darcy wailed, his voice catching. "She said we're taking a break! That means breaking up! I don' wanna break up!"

"Heeeeey, hey, hey, shhhh," his cousin muttered, looking around him apprehensively. They were beginning to draw the attention of the crowd. "It'll all be okay. It will."

"No it own't. Aunt. Won't. It won't."

"Sure it will," Williams said softly, guiding his inebriated cousin out of his stool and to his feet, "You can come and see her at her new job. I'm sure Samantha won't mind if you drop i—"

"What new job," Darcy said, stopping abruptly.

Williams stopped too. He looked at the floor. His cousin then took him by the shoulders, and looked deep into his eyes.

"What new job," he asked.

"At a law firm," Williams blurted, unnerved by the look in his cousin's eyes. "Starting next week. Assistant position, though we're thinking she may get a bit more responsibility than that, based on—"

Darcy wasn't listening. His world was falling apart for the second time that night. Lizzy was getting a new job. Somewhere else. She might be moving. She was running away from him. She was leaving him. He might never see her again.

He needed to see her again.

Quietly, almost calmly, Darcy turned on his heel, and slipped into the crowd. By the time his cousin (still babbling with nerves) noticed he was gone, the agitatedly lovesick man was on the other side of the enormous room. He, and every other person in the room, noticed it at the same time, come to think of it.

A booming voice, screaming out desperate in a crowded room, has that effect on people.