NOTES: Little above normal length, Darcy's POV. Angsty, but elements of ❤️ hurt/comfort ❤️ (Also, at the beginning we get clueless!Darcy™ haha) Will post again soon! Stay safe y'all :) ~Vinny

Also, special thanks to jacqui— your comments are always very nice, and the 'nitpicking' actually helps me a lot! I get so excited writing, that I forget to look back for typos and small mistakes. Thank you so much for letting me about them! 💖

"Fitzwilliam! Fitzwilliam!"

Someone was calling his name. He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there, cocooned in the moment, but it was long enough for it to feel like an eternity. This whole day feels like a fever dream, he thought to himself languidly.

"FITZWILLIAM!"

That got his attention. Turning around, he saw his sister and her girlfriend (Violette— he was trying to cement that name in his head) were barrelling towards him at breakneck speed.

"Ohthankgoodness," Georgie said in one breath, "You're still here."

"Yeah, I am," he griped, "Now do you want to explain what the hell is going—"

"Did you see her?"

Darcy blinked. "Pardon?"

Georgie grabbed both his arms and pulled herself closer. "DID YOU SEE HER," she demanded.

"Um, yeah, I saw her."

Georgiana released him with a gasp. "You DID?! How did it go? Was she happy to see you? Where is she?"

Darcy was now thoroughly confused. "It… went fine. She's still in the shop." He pointed dumbly towards 'Netherworld'.

Georgiana looked like she was about to squeal or scream or maybe explode when Violette (probably the most level-headed among them at this point) put her hand on Georgie's shoulder.

"Woah, easy there, tiger. Maybe we should clarify." Her plain face tilted up to study him. "Who exactly are you talking about."

He wrinkled his brow. "Um. Anna DeBourgh. My.. cousin…"

"Oh." Georgiana deflated like a skinny blonde balloon. Ok, maybe that was a bad analogy, but Darcy's brain was too busy untangling this conspiracy to come up with proper descriptions for why his sister looked heartbro…

Oh my god.

OH MY GOD.

He turned narrowed eyes on the two women, who both suddenly found the floor very interesting.

"Did you… bring me here… to see Lizzy?"

A reluctant nod in unison.

Darcy's temper flared up like sparks flying up, just before the kindling bursts into a bonfire. He breathed out a barely controlled breath.

"Did she… at LEAST know I would be here?!"

Another, very guilty nod. Darcy felt the bonfire erupt.

He wanted to scream, to curse, to DO SOMETHING. WHY?! He was trying to be a better person, in the hopes that one day he could show Lizzy that he had changed! And WHAT did his meddling sister do?! Force Lizzy back to him, when she STILL hadn't called and CLEARLY didn't want him around!

And— oh my god. HAD THAT 'OLD LADY' BEEN HER?!

Darcy would have laughed if he hadn't been so close to crying.

Being so close, so close, to seeing her again.. and he couldn't even remember seeing her face. She had hidden from him. She had run away. If she ever had loved him, Lizzy Bennet was sure past that now.

A light hand touched his shoulder.

He looked down into his sister's worried eyes. "Big brother..," she said, quietly, "Are you okay?"

Darcy tore himself away from her. "I- I need to take a walk."

"I'm sor—"

He held up a hand. He didn't have the strength to look her in the eyes anymore; Darcy could tell from the shake in her voice that Georgie was close to tears. He bobbed his head. "I.. I'll be fine… Just… Bye."

From behind him, he heard a sob. But Darcy just.. He couldn't look back.

Then he was walking. He didn't know where. He didn't know for how long. He found himself in some secluded corner of the mall, where the fountain spotted with loose change met a garden of waxy tropical plants. He sat down, feeling numb.

He looked into the water. The pale yellow tiles almost changed his brown eyes to sparkling green.

He had to look away.

Darcy's phone buzzed. "Oh, what now..," he muttered, biting his cheek so he wouldn't completely humiliate himself in this public place.

His email was lit up with a notification. He opened it. It was from the Maid of Honor.

'S.O.S.

Hey can you talk to me real quick? I know we don't know each other but I don't know anyone I can trust right now. Please.

~Maid of honor'

He typed back a spiteful response, and set his phone down.

'I'm kind of in a SOS situation myself. Do you really need ME right now?'

The response was immediate.'Please. Human to human. I just need someone to talk to. Please.'

You know what? Fine. This was better than sitting alone and feeling the weight of the world come down to crack his heart.

'Alright,' he ended up sending,'What happened?'

This time, the Maid of Honor took her time responding. When she finally did, Darcy could see why. Lady had a whole ODYSSEY of clipped sentences typed out.

'Not too long ago, I was dating this guy. I really liked him a lot. Then we had a bad fight at his birthday party, and I asked to have a break. He didn't take it well.

But I still loved him— love him, I guess. It's been almost a week; we weren't together all that long. I should be stronger than this.

But when he never answered the phone.. it broke my heart.

Just now, I ran into him. He didn't recognize me. My best friend brought me to this place SPECIFICALLY to make us run into each other (she's been texting me apologies for the past 5 minutes) and now I don't know who I can trust. I'm scared and I feel like a worthless failure and I can't think my hands are shaking and I can't stop crying what do I do'

Wow. That was… a lot of baggage.

And what was (surprisingly!) the most surprising thing about it, was that Darcy felt that he resonated with this woman. Resonated… more than he liked to admit. Her story seemed.. very much like his own, strangely enough. His heart had been broken too, at a party too. The only change was, with him, the girl had never called back.

Still he felt connected with this stranger in his inbox. To him too, it felt like he couldn't trust anyone— well, except Lizzy. But she didn't feel the same anymore.

And… it was selfish of him to do this.. but…

'I have panic attacks. Bad ones. I get nervous about stupid stuff and end up spiraling. The only thing that's reliably calmed me down was my girlfriend (ex, now). She would put her hands on my face, and tell me to look into her eyes. She had the most beautiful green eyes. I would get lost in the sight.

Try and focus on something around you. Let your eyes wash over it, Drain all thoughts from your head. No descriptions, no anxieties, no inner monologue. Just you, and the thing.

Breathe.

I know that what you're going through isn't the same, and it's hard. But it's going to get better. Alright? I promise.

Time will heal. So just give it time.

And, PS. Don't feel bad about feeling bad. You're allowed to grieve.

But it will get better.'

Darcy put his phone down on the fountain edge. Strangely, he felt calmer this time, looking out at the coin-speckled water as it lapped at the pale yellow tiles of the fountain. He needed to take his own advice.

Except it was horseshit.

Well, one part of it was.

He could feel, deep in his soul, that time would not heal this wound. Perhaps it could be stitched up in a few years, stapled back together with family and work and friends and copious amounts of alcohol, but the scar would forever remain.

Unless Elizabeth Bennet was there, by his side.

Laying back against the fountain ledge, he checked his phone. The Maid of Honor had responded with a simple 'Thank you. That really helped me.'

He looked out over the water. He remembered his favorite memories of her. His roof. Her laughter. Kisses interspersed with conversation. Morse code and constellations. Lizzy's soft body, curled up against him, gentle breathing ebbing into his chest. A shooting star.

With one hand, Darcy dug through his pocket, and pulled out a coin. He tossed it up over the fountain spray.

He hoped that repeat wishes still counted.

He prayed that Lizzy still thought about him.

And he wished, with all his heart, that he would still live to see her wearing white, carrying a bouquet of herbs, and walking towards him. Smiling, as if this was the happy ending she had wanted too.

The coin disappeared into the water, without a sound.

Darcy dearly hoped that wasn't an omen.