A/N: I've another note at the bottom, but wanted to have a CW at the top that it has to do with self-harm/suicide and mental illness. I do not go into specific detail.
Fitzwilliam did not make an immediate response to Darcy's inquiry, so for a time, there was only the low crackle of the fire as it murmured to itself in the hearth.
No stranger to silence, Darcy merely waited while his cousin appeared to collect his thoughts.
At length, the other man sighed heavily and raised his glass of whiskey to his lips, taking a deliberate drink before at last straightening and turning to regard Darcy. His blue eyes, normally so full of mischief and merriment, now seemed shadowed, as though with grief.
"There is something about this assignment that has left me feeling rather unsettled," Fitzwilliam said. "I cannot think why, for it is straightforward enough on the surface. Yet I find myself ill-at-ease, as though I am about to undertake something that will irrevocably alter my life and I am unable to take any action to prevent it."
Darcy felt chills skitter down his spine as his cousin spoke. It seemed to him as though Fitzwilliam were admitting to having something of the Second Sight himself, although perhaps not as clear as Darcy's own visions tended to be. Was this the reason the other man had believed him so readily in the vision he'd had about Elizabeth?
Before Darcy could formulate any kind of response, Fitzwilliam continued. "I am aware this likely sounds like common superstition, of the sort most of the rank and file of the military are said to possess. And I have experienced that type of thing, early on in my career, but this is different somehow."
"Why are you telling me this?"
Darcy winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth, knowing that of all the questions or replies he might have made, this was undoubtedly one of the lesser quality ones.
To his surprise, though, Fitzwilliam did not seem either offended or hurt by the inquiry. "Indeed, why. We have come to the purpose of my being here."
The Colonel at last took up a seat in front of the fire, though not before he had angled the chair so that it faced more towards Darcy than the hearth. Seeing what his cousin was about, Darcy hastily set his glass on the small, round, walnut end table which served this particular grouping of furniture and stood to adjust his own chair.
"I don't wish to worry my parents," Fitzwilliam continued, once they had both been seated. Despite the new orientation of the chair, his face was turned away, studying the flames. "But I do feel it is imperative to have someone in place to carry out my wishes, in the event that I am unable to do so for whatever reason."
He said it so casually, but Darcy had no problems keeping up with the horrifying implications. Fitzwilliam was concerned about being wounded, possibly killed, and was so certain of the eventuality of this potential outcome that he had come to convey his wishes to Darcy.
Feeling as though his thoughts were sprinting in several directions all at once, Darcy managed to seize on the one that seemed most important in this moment. "What do you need me to do? Should we have a solicitor present?"
Unspoken in the second question was one of the sub-concerns that was currently running riot through his mind. The Colonel picked this up with astonishing acuity. "You mean, shouldn't I have my legal affairs in order given my profession?" He smiled, and Darcy was both heartened and somewhat steadied to see there was real humor in the expression. "No, the legalities are all sorted," he waved a hand, dismissing the concern. "It is only that there is what the solicitors will write down and then there is the spirit of the thing. I want to ensure you understand my intent, in case the worst should happen."
Darcy nodded, at once grasping what his role should be. Or rather, he thought he did, only to be proved incorrect as soon as his cousin continued.
"I think it more likely that I should be detained than killed, although certainly one can never rule out the latter. In such an instance, the Army may not know which outcome has actually taken place and may have reasons to give out false information about my disposition regardless." He shrugged, as though such concerns were irritating, but part and parcel of the lot he had been dealt.
"I cannot put my family through the agony of not having any closure," the Colonel continued, his own somber gaze locked with Darcy's increasingly unsettled one. "There is, therefore, a provision in my will for you to have the authority to declare me dead and to be the executor of my estate, such as it is, afterwards."
Here, he paused, giving Darcy some much-needed time to absorb what he was saying.
Feeling rather as though he had been punched in the gut, and sensing an almost tangible weight settle on shoulders, Darcy nevertheless stifled an impulse to either sigh or groan and instead gave his cousin one sharp nod, accepting the duty he had been given.
At the gesture, Fitzwilliam's face lost much of the tension it had been holding. Darcy could all but see it ease, though had he been asked to describe the other man's expression a moment ago, he would have said something like "Neutral, but serious." It had not been the neutrality that one would bring into a serious discussion, but something more like a great suppression of some strong emotion.
Of course, Fitzwilliam being Fitzwilliam, he fell at once back into the informal, casual and joking manner that was his usual wont. "The lawyers didn't care for the provision, as you can imagine," he observed mildly, a glimmer in his eyes providing some inkling of what was yet to come. "But I insisted and finally managed to convince them that the great Mr. Darcy possessed so much personal wealth that he could not possibly be tempted to have me declared dead just in order to get at my few, measly scraps."
"For pity's sake," Darcy snapped, not amused in the slightest. "Richard!"
He added no more, not feeling the need to use words to chastise his cousin for so unceremoniously dumping such a burden on him and then immediately turning around to poke at Darcy's own pride and sense of honor, as though his only concerns might be material and not familial. He glared instead, feeling the prick of tears rise, only to be held, glimmering, but not to fall.
The Colonel's face softened. "It may all come to nothing."
"You don't know that."
"In truth, Darcy, I never do." The Colonel's face held a look of mild puzzlement. "That's the job."
"And yet, you have just told me that something about this particular assignment feels different to you. Enough for you to come and warn me of the possibility and to relay to me your wishes!" Darcy protested.
"I would not have thought you, of all people, would show such alarm at the prospect," the Colonel countered mildly. "This is the job," he reiterated. 'It is always possible that something may happen, even when it is not probable. Why should my having a gut feeling make you grow any more or less alarmed?"
"Is that all it is?" Darcy questioned, irritably. "A gut feeling?"
"I know not what else to call it."
Darcy sighed, running a hand backwards through his hair as he attempted to master his racing thoughts. They were still running in every possible direction and there did not appear to be any reasonably discrete way of attempting to find out anything regarding what he wanted to know.
"Have you ever had a feeling such as this before and had the sort of result you expected would come to pass?"
"Once or twice," Fitzwilliam admitted, still looking bewildered. "Doesn't everyone?"
"You would have to ask them."
"Darce," Fitzwilliam ventured, after letting a short silence ensue following that last, bitterly spoken remark, "what is amiss with you? Upon my life, you seem outraged to a degree I cannot understand. Do you resent my choosing you as the man for this job? I have some time yet before I must depart and can change my will, if so."
The Colonel spoke without a trace of any kind of negative emotion, his offer so clearly sincere, and it landed like a blow, such that Darcy almost felt he was reeling. Here his cousin was, about to set off in the name of duty and honor to provide a service for his country and was prepared to do so, even sensing that the outcome would be poor. Yet, he was still generous enough to show consideration for Darcy's feelings, however ill he understood them.
Well, and that was more than fair. Darcy could scarcely understand his own emotions but was giving himself over to them, making his cousin feel as though he had imposed, when the truth was that Darcy was making this situation about himself and his confusion.
"No, Richard, it is not that. Please know that I will bear this request of yours without complaint and am honored that you should choose me." The last part came out somewhat dubiously, although he hadn't intended it.
The Colonel laughed, no doubt understanding where Darcy's mind was now tending. Who else was there to perform such an office? Fitzwilliam's parents were the very people he was attempting to spare with this act and, while the Colonel had an older brother, he was not a dependable man in many ways. Their mutual cousin and her mother, their aunt, were also not candidates, though each for quite different reasons.
Cracking a smile in response, Darcy continued. "I apologize that I have responded so poorly this evening. I am wrestling with a matter of my own and your presence and request have managed to touch on it, but it is no way fair for me to take out my subsequent poor humor on you. Please forgive me."
"Of course," Fitzwilliam waved a hand in the air as though to brush aside either the apology or the behavior which had prompted it. "I did not expect you would dance a jig in joy at my making this request of you. But I am curious how my petition could possibly relate to anything else you might be dealing with. Did Bingley ask you to be responsible for his sister in the case of his untimely demise?"
Darcy gave off a not-entirely-manufactured shudder of horror at the thought. "No, and I hope he should have the good sense to never ask." The very notion of having any input of any kind into the future or well-being of Caroline Bingley was not a prospect that generated any delight.
The Colonel roared with laughter. "Come now," he encouraged, "you could arrange a nice marriage for her with someone other than yourself. Shouldn't be too difficult to find some poor sod willing to take her on in exchange for her fortune."
"Ah, yes," Darcy agreed, giving his cousin a meaningful look. "I can think of one or two such candidates. Second sons without much hope of a decent inheritance who are, nevertheless, accustomed to living life up to a certain standard."
"My standard these days is well below that mark," Fitzwilliam countered instantly, giving his cousin a disingenuous smile. "And anyway, I am convinced that only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony, so I will doubtless end my days as a bachelor." He winked and pushed himself up from the chair, heading towards the sideboard to refill his glass.
The conversation moved on from there and though Darcy could not help but think again and again of his own dilemma, not to mention his own question about why his vision had not shown him this, they did not return to topics whereby they might find a natural path back into the discussion.
As the evening wore on, Darcy gradually became convinced that the reason his vision had not showed him this evening was twofold: the first was that it had no material bearing on the overall outcome of his relationship with Elizabeth, and the second was that his cousin's gut feeling was merely that, and he would return whole and hale. He had been in Darcy's vision during a time-frame several months away from now. Likely, even in the vision, he had gone and returned and nothing of any particular note had taken place.
These thoughts cheered him no little amount, enough that he was able to relax fully into his conversation with Fitzwilliam. As a result, when he finally sought his bed, it was well past the hour where he normally would have been awake, especially considering he'd had a similarly late night the evening before. Muddled with an excess of drink, too little sleep and a pleasant sensation that all would be well, Darcy nevertheless had one final thought occur to him just moments before he tumbled into the deep well of sleep.
What if, this time, everything was different?
A/N: My apologies for the delay in my getting this to you! I ended up doing some very unexpected traveling out-of-state, to go do what little I could for a dear friend who had a sibling die of suicide. This sibling had been diagnosed with a severe mental illness and was in a place where they were refusing help. It was such a tragic set of circumstances and my heart is broken for the family, especially my friend. My friend's family has decided to be very open about these details, so I am not speaking out of turn here.
In the USA, you can dial 988 to reach someone who help if you're in crisis and/or considering taking your life. It's so important we talk about these things because stigma only makes it all seem more shameful and therefore worse. (I, too, have lost a family member due to suicide, so am also speaking from a firsthand knowledge here, sadly.)
You can also visit MentalHealth dot gov in order to access SAMHSA's Behavioral Health Treatment Services Locator.
We have much to do to make assistance for mental health more accessible here in the USA. I know there are therapists out there (including my own), who charge on a sliding scale in order to try to make the help they can give more accessible. I am sure there are other resources as well and hope some of you may be inspired to share in the comments in case it might be helpful to another person here on fanfic. Every single one of us is precious and irreplaceable.
Anyway, not trying to get on too much of a soapbox here. Just wanted to take a moment to highlight some resources. I'll try to get this writing business back on track now that I am home and getting back into something like my normal routine.