NOTES: Lizzy's POV. Short(ish) chapter. Slightly angsty, slightly fluffy, a DASH of humor, but mostly hurt/comfort-y. Odd chapter. But she's dealing with a lot right now, let her be.

Also, I'm going to be posting again soon! So stay tuned, and have a wonderful day, y'all! 💗~Vinny

The hospital tiles were pepper-speckled manilla; the cracks bleached so pale it seemed like they glowed with a thin, skeletal light. They alternated tiles every 1 and a half feet. Lizzy stepped carefully over the cracks, not willing to risk any more bad luck at that moment.

She let her eyes dart to her right, just for a second.

Fitzwilliam was facing forward. His body was stiff. His hand was cold. She couldn't read his face.

Maybe it was just her nerves talking, or the fact that she felt like she had been run over by a truck, but Lizzy could not for the LIFE of her remember a time when it had been this hard to read him. Even when they first met, she was able to register frustration, surprise, and grudging respect on his features.

But now…

"Do you want to sit down, while I get the food?"

Lizzy blinked. "Um.. yeah. That… yeah, okay."

Fitzwilliam gave her a searching look, then guided her down into a chair.

On the one hand, Lizzy was a bit annoyed that he didn't think she was capable of sitting down on her own. On the other hand… she definitely was NOT capable of sitting down on her own.

Her legs were wobbly (she supposed from shock). Lizzy felt like the room was tilting slightly, and something about the silence didn't sound quite right.

Too soon, Fitzwilliam returned to the table. He set down some sliced chicken and salad in front of her. Lizzy took a fork and stabbed the meat. She chewed quickly, swallowing the tasteless delicacy.

"So…"

"So," Fitzwilliam echoed, sitting down stiffly.

Lizzy fixed her eyes firmly on his face, gathering her courage. "Why did you never call me back?"

He winced. "I know how this sounds, but… I broke my phone."

She folded her arms across his chest, raising one eyebrow. "How?"

"I.. well, accidentally threw it against a wall."

Lizzy studied him coldly as he squirmed. "Then.. why didn't you contact me with another phone? Or tell me you broke it?"

"I didn't want to lose you!" Fitzwilliam blurted out a little too loudly.

As other patrons glanced his way, the tall man hunched over, turning red. "I… I didn't want to push you any further," he said, quiet now. "I just… I wanted you to know.. I was… capable of giving you space."

Lizzy had to look away. She had missed being able to read him, but.. the look in his eyes, right now.. it was more than she could handle. It was intense devotion. And Lizzy hated that she had been the one to push him away. She hated that she doubted him, even now.

But she wanted to trust him. She really, really wanted to.

"I.. don't.. want space," Lizzy managed, softly. "I… I really need you, Fitzwilliam. I.. I… wish…" She put the back of her hand up to her eye, turning away, blocking the man across from her from seeing her weak tears.

"I wish things could just.. start over," she whispered.

A large hand covered hers. It was cold, but.. she warmed to the touch anyway.

"Well," Fitzwilliam murmured, his eyes strained slightly, tracing over the lines of her face. "Let's… start over, then."

Taking a breath, he spun around in his chair, moving his legs over the back like a delinquent kid trying to piss off the teacher. When Fitzwilliam finished the little spin-move, his face was a blank smile.

He stuck out his hand. "Hello, I'm Fitzwilliam Darcy. It's nice to meet you."

Lizzy giggled wetly, wiping her face. "You're a goofball."

"I'm sorry?" He said, innocently tilting his head, "I thought I just said my name was Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Getting into character now (happy for the distraction), Lizzy rolled her mouth into a smile, and nodded. "Alright," she replied, her eyes sparkling, "Should I call you Mr. Darcy, then?"

"Oh, no no, you should just call me Fitzwilliam."

"Hhmmm…" Lizzy leaned forward, getting close to his face. She bit her lip, intentionally this time (he once confessed it drove him crazy). "That's a mouthful… Are you sure THAT'S what I should call you?"

Lizzy was expecting Fitzwilliam to blush, to stammer, to reel back all flustered and nervous and cute— just like he used to do. At MOST (if he was feeling confident) Lizzy could see him darting forward to kiss her quick, then turn red as a tomato and apologize without knowing what he was saying.

However.. Fitzwilliam… was… full of surprises, that day.

"Well..," he breathed, his voice low rumbling, his eyes a smoky chocolate, "I suppose you could call me… love. My love. How does that sound?"

Lizzy snapped back, feeling her face heat up at split second speed. She moved so quickly, her wobbly legs were put off-balance, and she crashed back into her chair.

"OH my gosh! Are you alright?!"

Fitzwilliam had jumped up out of his seat, and was already hauling Lizzy upright by the time she had recovered enough of her wits to speak.

Not very well, but she could speak.

"I, um, well, I—"

Fuck, she sounded like an idiot.

Lizzy tried to laugh. "I mean— you're going so fast! Calling you, uh, love… in this scenario, we— we just met, didn't we?" She looked to him nervously. "Right? Does that… Am I making sense?"

Fitzwilliam's dark eyes clouded over. His cheek twitched. "Of course. That.. makes perfect sense. I'll… I won't rush you."

Oh shit. Was that what she had said?

Lizzy was confused, and tired, and shaking with nerves. She barely felt human— she was giving herself emotional whiplash from all this stress. She felt like she was sinking. She felt adrift, tossed about by her circumstances.

She… She…

She looked at Fitzwilliam.

"Thank you," Lizzy said, "for being you. And for being here with me."

"I'm here as long as you want me, Lizzy," Fitzwilliam responded without missing a beat.

She touched his temple. His hair was soft, curled, and there was a tiny smear of shampoo leftover from his morning shower. She kissed the spot where his forehead met his curly hair, then sat back down on her chair.

Moving robotically, she scooted it back over to him, closer than she had been before. Lizzy picked up her fork and started eating again.

After a minute of him just watching her, Fitzwilliam began picking at his fruit cup with a bit more interest.

"I'm going to need you," Lizzy said, abruptly. "It's only been a day since the diagnosis, and…" she swallowed a mouthful of stale air and dried up tears. "I'm already falling apart."

"Hey." Fitzwilliam moved over, putting his arm around her, and pulling her into a soft embrace. "It's been a DAY since the diagnosis. It'll get better. Just… give it time.."

Lizzy sniffled a laugh. "Y'know, you're not the first guy who's told me that recently."

"Oh yeah?" Fitzwilliam answered, smiling, "Who was it?"

"Well, I don't actually know his name, but…"

From that point on, there were no more broken hearts weeping, no more heartache from long absences. There was only warmth, and soft laughter, and the shock of realization.