Love and Other Accidents

by paperclipz

Done! A modern P and P. Darcy and Bingley are musicians trying to find material for their new album in a rural college town...where they meet the Bennet twins who are surviving college together. Lizzy's a photographer, and Jane's a med student.

16. Day Two: Settling In

Author's Note: This section could probably use some tweaking still, especially the middle of 4 and the end of 6, but I'm ready to move on to the next part. I would really appreciate any suggestions you might have, though. Also, about this epilogue, I intended it to only be one chapter, but then I started writing it. It got pretty long, so I'm splitting it up into five sections, one for every day of the vacation. So, here's the second bit.

Epilogue—Day Two

Part 2 out of 5

3.

Lizzy woke up at 6:32 AM to the sound of light snoring, stifled a groan so that she didn't wake Giana, and tried to go back to sleep. The bed was extremely soft, and it was soothingly warm underneath the down comforter. It should've been easy. But whenever she closed her eyes, her dream came back to her. And there was that nagging urge to go to the bathroom. When she heard the twang of a guitar outside in the living room (she couldn't tell if it was Will's or Charlie's), she sighed and got up carefully.

It was Will—she found out as soon as she opened the door—sitting on the couch, his guitar in his lap, his dark hair up in peaks. When he turned around, smiling, Lizzy could see he was wearing a plain white t-shirt and blue plaid pajamas bottoms, and she was glad she hadn't changed out of her own PJ's. He reached up and drew her down over the back of the couch for a kiss, his hand buried in her hair, and she was very glad she brushed her teeth when she visited her bedroom's bathroom.

She smiled when Will pressed his forehead to hers. "You feel better, I can tell," she said, pecking a kiss lightly on his nose and coming around the couch to sit next to him.

"I made coffee," he offered, moving papers and books and extra picks to a nearby ottoman to clear a place for Lizzy.

"I'll get some later," she said, her feet on the cushion between them, her knees under her chin. She couldn't keep the smile off her face, but there wasn't any need to really, not with Will sending her half-shy smiling glances. "How long have you been up?"

"4:50," Will replied.

"Bummer," Lizzy sympathized with a grimace.

He shrugged. "The time change has me a bit off. I was awake to say goodbye to Charlie, though."

"Where'd he go?" Lizzy asked, moving away Will's coffee cup (it was cold) to peer over some papers. They were print-outs of poems—the Brownings mostly, and a John Clare that Lizzy's never heard of.

"To pick up Jane," Will replied.

Lizzy looked up frowning. "I thought her flight didn't get in until eleven."

Will grinned. "I think Charlie was excited to see her."

"Hmm," said Lizzy thoughtfully, picking up one of the books off the ottoman, the slimmest one. "Twenty love poems and a Song of Despair?"

"Pablo Neruda," Will explained.

"Yep, I can read that too," Lizzy said with another grin, and Will grinned back sheepishly. "You going for love now, or despair?"

"Love, at the moment," Will said with the kind of intense dark-eyed look that always seemed to make Lizzy blush.

She opened the book in front of her face to hide it, flipping through pages. "So you want to make a song out of one of these?"

"I was going to try. Number V," he explained, nodding at the book.

Lizzy found it. "'So That You Can Hear Me'?"

Will nodded, strumming through a series of chords lazily. "Maggie's not so sure about it. She thinks we'll be criticized for trying to use a Latin-American poet."

Lizzy snorted, curling her hands around the book and frowning. "You're already attacked for sticking to English and American canonical writers," she reminded him. "You're never going to make everyone happy, so do what you want."

"I thought you might say that," Will said with a shy grin.

Lizzy smirked and glanced over the poem and the translation next to it. "Should these lines worry me? 'You are to blame for this cruel sport'? And 'Follow me, companion, on this wave of anguish'?"

"You should pay more attention to the part that goes 'my words become stained with your love, You occupy everything,' he answered, leaning over his guitar to make a few notes on a blank sheet of paper in front of him. "I want to settle that as the refrain."

"'I watch my words from a long way off./They are more yours than mine today," Lizzy murmured, thoughtfully glancing over the poem again. "You know," she said, looking up at Will, "if you wanted to incorporate the original, you could get Charlie to echo you in Spanish. But it'd make a good song. You're going to have shorten the lines and maybe rearrange them. And you'll need to find a better translation, though. Parts of this are a little clunky."

"I have others here somewhere," Will said, leaning over his guitar and shuffling through some papers, his pick held tight between his knuckles. "If you want to read them through—"

"What?" Lizzy teased with a slow smile. "You mean you're going to let me help you?"

"Of course," Will said, blinking in surprise and handing her three loose papers. "What did you think you were doing?"

"Making pre-coffee conversation," Lizzy replied as she took the papers he was offering her, but they both knew she was pleased, despite herself.

She bent over the printouts to read, and Will asked quietly, "Lizzy?"

"Hmm?" she replied without looking up.

"What did you think of the song I wrote for you?"

When Lizzy looked up, she was grinning. "Why? Are you writing me another song I should know about?"

"It's rather safe to assume that all the love song I write from this point forward are yours," Will said with that dark-eyed gaze, even a small smile.

Lizzy watched him for a long moment, a smile creeping around her own mouth. Then she shifted, traveling over the cushion, sitting on her ankles so that she could kiss him, her hand cupping the nape of his neck. "Good answer," she told him softly, resettling beside him, far enough to give him room to maneuver his guitar but still close enough to touch.

"You didn't answer," he said as he returned his gaze to his guitar and his notes and she resumed reading the Neruda translations.

"Sure, I have. Every time you've asked me," Lizzy replied, grinning down at the papers in her hand.

"Not in London," Will reminded her.

"Every time since," Lizzy said and then added with a wider grin, "And you've managed to ask me at least once a month for the past year.—As far as these translations go, would it be a major problem to pick and choose stanzas from each so that you can piece together your own version?"

"If you didn't want me to ask you more than once," Will said with an embarrassed scowl, "you shouldn't have answered me differently each time."

Lizzy raised her chin and regarded him levelly, almost thoughtfully, if her smile hadn't been full of mischief. "Let's see," she said slowly. "Did I tell you that I wasn't too sure about you referring to me as 'baby'?"

"Yes, that's what you said last time I asked."

"That's right," she said smirking, watching Will shuffle through his notes again. "You explained that in the original version, you used 'Lizzy,' and Fitz convinced you to change it to 'baby.' I still need to thank him for that," Lizzy added. "Saved me from a whole lot of awkward."

Will waited, wanting to turn and watch her, but he didn't.

"Did I tell you that it confused me?" Lizzy asked in the same light tone.

"Yes. The first time I asked you," Will replied carefully.

"Oh, yeah—and then you asked me if that song made me love you," Lizzy said in a tone of dawning realization.

"And you explained that it made you reconsider me," Will said, plucking out a few broken chords just to occupy his hands. "Reconsider your perception of me."

"Did I tell you it convinced me that you couldn't possibly be as conceited as I thought you were?" Lizzy asked. "Since you were so honest?"

"Yes," he said, dropping his guitar pick and reaching for it.

"Did I tell you that it showed me that I needed to be more careful about what I told you," Lizzy said, "since you were going to remember it so well?"

"Yes," Will said, unable now to keep the impatience out of his voice.

Lizzy sighed heavily, and Will turned her way as she said, "I guess I'm out of answers then."

"That isn't possible," Will scoffed.

"Sure, it is," said Lizzy, flipping to the next printed translation. "It's only one question, and I can't remember any other ways to reply." Will opened his mouth to protest again until Lizzy looked back to him sidelong, a smirk hanging around her mouth, and he knew she was teasing. Especially when she added, "At least without encouragement."

Will sighed. "What sort of encouragement?"

"What sort of encouragement?" she echoed, placing the papers down carefully. Then she slid slowly between Will and his instrument, until he was forced to lay the guitar down on the ottoman and she was occupying his lap, one arm around his shoulders, one hand trapping the pick between his fingers. "What sort of encouragement?" Lizzy asked again, smirking as she leaned forward, pressing him back into the cushions. Will's eyes widened, their mouths an inch apart. "What kind of boyfriend are you?"

He kissed her.

Will's encouragements managed to take up the last ten minutes of their solitude, and just as he'd begun to seriously jog her memory, a key scraped the lock and the front door creaked open, letting in an icy draft and a small, sharp-eyed manager.

Maggie took one look at Will and Lizzy on the couch and then looked back over her shoulder at her husband. "I told you someone would be awake."

"Boo," Lizzy grumbled, and Will sighed in agreement, removing his hand from under her pajama top and pushing his weight off Lizzy so that they could both sit up.

"Hey, kids," said Fitz, stepping into the cabin, carrying a polar fleece-wrapped, Zarine-shaped bundle. "We interrupting something?"

Lizzy glared at Fitz, grabbing the white undershirt from the floor and handing it over. Will stuffed it over his head quickly and pulled his guitar back into his lap.

"Bet you wish you two had the guest cottage now," Fitz said, tugging off Zarine's hat, a pink one, with purple bear ears on top.

"Fitz," Maggie scolded, going to the kitchen.

Will ignored them and returned to his song-writing, plucking out the tune that Lizzy had heard in her room. She refrained from saying all sorts of unpleasant discouragements to Fitz, since his daughter was in the room.

"Everyone's on their own for breakfast," Maggie announced, going through three cabinets before finding the right one. She pulled out three bowls and Cheerios. "We've got cereal and milk, oatmeal, grits, eggs, bacon…and I think we got English muffins, too, for Charlie."

"And Will made coffee," Lizzy added, smirking in Fitz's direction. Fitz carefully ignored her and concentrated on unwrapping the baby from her many pink and purple layers. Zarine made herself less than helpful by trying to put her fingers in her mouth and fussing when her father removed them so that he could pull off her jacket sleeve.

The door behind the couch opened, and a bedraggled figure in a giant Love and Other Accidents t-shirt and NYU mesh shorts stumbled out, her brown hair falling into her face. "I heard the word coffee," Giana explained, rubbing her eyes.

"Will made it," Lizzy replied amused.

"Will, that makes you the best elder brother in the world," Giana mumbled sleepily, hugging him around the shoulders over the top of the couch, and Will smiled half-turning toward her.

"It's in the kitchen," Lizzy added, smiling fondly at them both, and Giana redirected her attention to the kitchen where Maggie was putting a bowl of uncooked oatmeal into the microwave.

"I better go get some before Giana takes it all. Do you want anymore?" Lizzy asked Will, picking up his mug and standing.

"Please," he replied, glancing up as she walked around the sofa.

He froze when he felt her arm reach from behind the couch and slide across his chest, but he let her pull him gently back. "As far as encouragement goes," she whispered in his ear, "when I snuck into your concert in September and saw you sing 'You Told Me' onstage, I decided you were the only man I'd ever love." Then, Lizzy's hand turned Will's shocked face toward her so that she could kiss him briefly on the mouth before continuing on her way.

"Lizzy, are you telling Will naughty things again?" Fitz asked, settling Zarine into her high chair.

"Ugh," Giana commented, coffeepot and mug in either hand. "Say no please."

"Hmm," said Lizzy thoughtfully, smirking as she reached over the counter and took the coffeepot from Giana and poured. "I prefer to think of them as sweet nothings."

"Well, it was certainly something," Fitz replied, pouring some Cheerios in front of Zarine. "If Will's face gets any redder, someone will mistake Will's head for a beet, and puree it for baby food."

Lizzy looked up just in time to catch Will shaking his hair forward in an effort to cover his blush, and she laughed.

"Well, that's rather graphic," Giana told Fitz, blowing on her coffee.

Lizzy walked Will's mug back to him, set it on a coaster at the sidetable next to him, and kissed his flushed forehead tenderly. "I love you. You're cute," she said decisively, waiting for Will to grin sheepishly up at her before heading back to the kitchen to doctor her own coffee.

"Fitz, I think you must be mixing up your vegetables," Maggie said. "We don't feed Zarine beets. She's allergic."

"Oh, yeah," Fitz said, twisting the top on a sippy cup filled with milk. "Beets are what fills her diaper with green shit, right?"

Will grimaced, and Giana pretended to gag, saying "Well, that's even more graphic. Thank you, Fitz."

"Drink your coffee," Lizzy told Giana, patting her on the shoulder. "It'll help."

"Help what?" asked someone behind Will. The other turned to notice Jimmy with the neatly combed look of someone freshly showered, standing in the doorway of the room he shared with Will.

"Jimmy!" cried Giana, and she flounced across the room to hug him good morning.

Will turned away, careful—Lizzy noticed—not to scowl.

"I blame you for this," Will told Lizzy when he caught her looking.

Lizzy frowned. "For what?"

"Addicting my little sister to coffee," he explained with a half-grin.

Lizzy rolled her eyes.

"You've got no one but yourself to blame for that, Will. You're the one who sent me a bloody cappuccino machine for my birthday," Giana retorted. "You blame Lizzy for getting you addicted."

"I blame Fitz, actually," Will said, beginning to collect the papers around him and settle them at the bottom of his guitar case.

"Really? Because I blame Lizzy," Fitz said, so bitterly that Lizzy grinned and took a sip of her coffee.

"Poor Jimmy," Maggie said, nodding at the boy's bewildered face. "We've confused him."

Jimmy smiled briefly, and Lizzy laughed. "Okay, Jimmy," she said. "Do you drink coffee? Yes or no?"

"Only during finals," Jimmy replied politely, and Lizzy's glance automatically traveled to Will.

(Will didn't glance at the boy; he didn't even look up.)

"Good," Lizzy said, turning back to Jimmy. "Because I just took the last of it."

"No second cup?" Giana gasped with wide, pleading eyes.

"Relax," Lizzy said, plugging in the coffee grinder. "I'm brewing another pot."

"Which makes you the best girlfriend my brother could ever have," Giana told her, and Lizzy laughed.

"But why are we blaming Fitz and Lizzy for Will's coffee habit?" Jimmy asked Giana quietly.

(Will didn't like how Jimmy phrased that, Lizzy could tell from the scowl on Will's face. But to his credit, he only packed his guitar away and said nothing.)

"Because Lizzy's a two-faced, double-crossing scam artist," Fitz grumbled, "and I'm a victim."

"You know, Fitz," Maggie said, sitting down at the kitchen table with two bowls of oatmeal and placing a spoon in each, "You're going to have to get over it someday."

"Never," Fitz said through a mouthful of oatmeal, glaring at Lizzy and Will each in turn. "No one can replace what they took from me."

"Yep," replied Lizzy cheerfully, and Maggie sighed and started eating her breakfast.

Jimmy turned to Giana hopefully.

"Make us a bit of breakfast, find yourself a seat, and I'll tell you the story," Giana told him, kissing his cheek.

(Will pretended not to notice.)

Smiling a little, Jimmy moved toward the kitchen, and Giana began, "Once upon a time, all of us gathered here today held two truths to be self-evident: first, Will hated coffee, and second, Fitz never lost a bet. Then, there was Lizzy, who proved their undoing."

Grinning, Lizzy took a dramatic bow, and her spoon slipped promptly out of her hand. "Well, shit," she muttered, snatching it up.

"Serves you right," Fitz said.

Maggie smacked his shoulder and told Lizzy, "Not in front of the baby."

"Oops. Sorry, Zarine," Lizzy added, moving out of Jimmy's way as he made his way to the cereal cabinet.

Zarine put a Cheerio in her mouth and looked at her parents.

"Lizzy loved coffee," Giana continued, "and she loved my brother Will. One day, she vowed to bring her two great loves together. On this same day, Fitz had the bad taste to start a very inappropriate betting pool—"

"Inappropriate?" Jimmy asked, opening the refrigerator for the milk.

(Will really didn't like this. He even threw Jimmy a glare but looked away again before anyone noticed besides Lizzy.)

"The usual," Fitz said. "Whether or not Will proposed, number of hickies they each had—"

"Bastard," Lizzy snapped in Fitz's direction.

"And this betting pool managed to piss Lizzy off somewhat," Giana went on.

"She almost beat the phone to death," Will added quietly, and Lizzy grinned.

"Hey, I did the same thing for Charlie and Jane, and they didn't flip out," Fitz protested.

"That's because Jane didn't know about it," Lizzy retorted.

"Anyway," Giana said irritably, "Lizzy also vowed revenge on a certain Richard Fitzwilliam. She soon came to the conclusion that the easiest way to keep these vows was to combine them. So the next time she saw Fitz, when she came to New York to visit with Will before and after B.F.D.'s appearance on Saturday Night Live, she managed to convince Fitz to enter into a new bet with her."

"Tricked me is what she did," Fitz said. "She trips into our dressing room all cheery, sipping at cup of Starbucks, and offers Will some. Will refuses, of course, and I tell her that Will won't ever succumb to the coffee addiction of America. Then she turns to me all smirky—I shoulda known then, with that smirk—and asks 'Wanna bet?' Will protests, Lizzy calls me chicken, and then there was a bet."

"What were the terms?" Jimmy asked.

(Will thought quite privately that it was very uncouth to make this story about money and told Lizzy so later.)

"Only $50," Fitz said with a sigh. "Will would've never forgive me for taking advantage of Lizzy. She's poor."

"But I was $50 richer after the bet," Lizzy said smugly.

"Lizzy was quite clever," Giana said, sitting down at the kitchen table and smiling when Jimmy put a bowl of milk and Life cereal in front of her. "She knew that Will had also fallen prey to his cousin's winning streak, and she knew that Will would sacrifice all his anti-coffee tastebuds if it meant getting back at Fitz. So she presented her plan to Will, who quickly agreed."

"I told you," said Fitz darkly. "Scam artists."

"But they did have to make it believeable," Giana continued, ignoring Fitz. "They waited to make their move when the tour started. Now," Giana said seriously, her hand on Jimmy's arm. He stopped and listened intently, "you may not know this, but concert tours are rather grueling. Most people will tell you the end of the tour is the worst part, because the musicians are exhausted and all that whatnot. Will, however, finds the beginning the hardest, when he has jet lag from England and then there's the beds on the tour bus, which are so bloody uncomfortable that you feel like lying on the bloody floor instead—"

"Language, Georgiana," Maggie interrupted, nodding at Zarine.

"Right. Sorry, but—" Giana told Jimmy. "I know from experience, and they suck. So, Will's roaming about sleep-deprived for a few days, probably grumping at everyone as usual—"

"I feel that I should resent that," Will said.

"Nope, it's true," Lizzy chirped. "I remember a couple of phone calls that got really bitchy on your end of the line."

"I don't know if I would use the word 'bitchy'—" Will began.

"Will, if Lizzy thinks you were bitchy, then she's probably right," Maggie told him firmly, and Will scowled.

"Since Will was having so much trouble staying awake, Charlie offers him some of his own coffee in the morning. Which is normal, by the way," she added for Jimmy's benefit. "Charlie's always trying to help. Because he's supposedly desperate, Will takes him up on the offer and gags it down with many complaints, much to Fitz's dismay."

"I wasn't that dismayed," Fitz protested. "I never thought it'd last."

"Fine, then," said Giana hotly. "Much to Fitz's dismay, a cup of Charlie's tourbus coffee then became part of Will's morning routine. Gradually, Will stopped complaining."

"That's not true," Maggie said. "Will just got less adamant about complaining."

"I am about two minutes away from being insulted," Will announced scowling.

"Should we set you a timer?" Lizzy snorted, taking the Life cereal from Jimmy before he could put it away.

"Gradually," Giana continued, dipping her spoon into her bowl, "one cup became two. Soon, he was sneaking cups of coffee out of sight of his bandmates, even Fitz! For whom the ruse was designed! And then Will started experimenting with his anti-coffee taste buds at Starbucks and developed a liking for a certain mixture called…the cappuccino. With extra foam," she added, grinning at her brother.

Will only rolled his eyes.

"You forgot the fact that Will bought his own cappuccino machine for the tour bus, before he thought to give you one," Maggie reminded Giana. "He wouldn't even touch Charlie's coffee anymore."

"Thus was the birth of another coffee snob," said Lizzy with a smug grin. "I laughed so hard when I saw that cappuccino machine. Will never admitted to me that he ended up actually liking the coffee," she explained to Jimmy.

"I don't like it," Will said irritably, "but I'm addicted now, aren't I?"

"So, you gave your sister a cappuccino machine for her birthday because you hated yours so much," Lizzy asked him.

"I might as well drink what I'm forced to prefer—" Will started.

"Find me one person in this room that believes you," Lizzy said smirking, and Will opened his mouth and quickly closed it. "Thought so," she said in a sing-song.

"You guys are forgetting the most important part," Fitz grumbled, picking up his and his wife's empty bowls and taking them to the sink.

"Right," said Giana before adding seriously, "and then Lizzy also called Fitz on the bet and split her winnings with Will."

"That's the only bet I lost ever," Fitz whined. "It ended a thirty-year winning streak. I can't ever bet again."

"You're thirty?" Lizzy asked Fitz surprised.

"Yeah," said Fitz, shoving his hands in his pockets and pouting. "So?"

"Had his birthday last month," Maggie mouthed to Lizzy.

Lizzy wrinkled her nose. "I thought thirty-year-olds were supposed to be mature, responsible citizens or something."

"Listen, kiddo—" Fitz started scowling, taking a step towards her, but Lizzy ducked away and out of the kitchen, cereal boxed tucked under her arm, and even Will was laughing.

"Grumpy old man," Lizzy teased. She pulled a square of Life cereal out of the box, tossed it up in the air, and caught it in her mouth, beaming as she chewed.

"How old are you?" Fitz scoffed. "Like seven?"

Lizzy smiled and held out the open box. With as much dignity as he could muster, Fitz snagged a piece of cereal, tossed it up, and missed his mouth completely. "Shit," Fitz said sadly and dragged himself over to his wife, dropping to the floor so that he could put his head in her lap. "Mags, I've lost my touch. I'm an old man. I might as well start clipping the hair out of my ears and waxing my back now."

"Stop it," Maggie said, rubbing his red hair and laughing. "You're too young to have a mid-life crisis."

"Oh my God, I'm having a mid-life crisis!" Fitz gasped, sitting up. "That means I'm only going to live until I'm sixty. Oh my God, my life's almost over!"

"Don't be so dramatic," Will told his cousin, standing up.

"Just you wait, Will," Fitz told him ominously. "Three more years, and you'll be in the same state I'm in."

"Four years. I'm only twenty-six," Will reminded him, walking into the kitchen where Lizzy continued to toss cereal in the air and catch it in her mouth. "Don't do that," he told her, taking the box away. "You'll choke."

Lizzy scowled at him open-mouthed, and Giana turned to Jimmy, trying not to laugh.

"Don't worry, Fitz. You're the youngest thirty-year-old I know," Lizzy said, glaring at Will. "There are some twenty-six year olds I know that act much older than you."

"It's for your own good," Will told her.

"Give me back my cereal," Lizzy said, lunging for it.

Will put it behind his back. "Not if you're going to abuse the privilege."

"Abuse the privilege?" Lizzy repeated. "Who do you think you are? You're my boyfriend, not my father figure."

"I feel better about being a grown-up now," Fitz told his wife, getting up from the floor.

"Perhaps, if your father had corrected you, you wouldn't have so much trouble submitting to authority," Will said, keeping the box of cereal well out of Lizzy's reach.

"Do you think they're too old to put in time-out?" Maggie asked Fitz.

"Excuse me?" Lizzy snapped. "First of all, we don't need to get into all the father issues we have between us, and second of all, what kind of authority do you think you are?"

"Now hold on," Giana said as she and Jimmy watched them. "Lizzy'll fix it in a minute."

"Honestly, Lizzy, if you didn't—" Will began scowling and stopped abruptly when Lizzy kissed him.

"She fixed it!" Giana said triumphantly, grinning as Lizzy reached her hand around Will's waist, snatching the box out of his hands, and jumped away.

"Lizzy!" Will cried scowling. "You tricked me."

"You took my cereal away," Lizzy reminded him, curling her torso around the box as Will reached for it. "I can't be responsible for my actions."

"Now, we're back to the squabbling," Fitz complained with a heavy sigh, turning to his daughter. "Zarine," he said, pointing at Lizzy and Will, "this is a bad example. Don't follow it, okay?"

Wide-eyed, Zarine put another Cheerio in her mouth.

Jimmy was open-mouthed, watching Will try to pry Lizzy's fingers away from the Life cereal.

"Look, Lizzy," Will said in his most reasonable tone, both hands on top of Lizzy's. "I'll pour some in a bowl, put milk in it, and give you a spoon. If you'll just—"

"If you tear the box, Will, I swear I'll—" Lizzy started as the box bent between their efforts.

"Then we'll get a Ziploc," Will said calmly. "It'll be fine."

"God, can you imagine them with kids?" Jimmy asked Giana.

Lizzy gasped and let go of the box, which went flying across the kitchen floor. "Don't say that," Lizzy said to Jimmy, face red. "Don't ever say that. You'll give him ideas."

"Sorry," Jimmy said with a brief apologetic smile, trying not to notice Will glaring at him.

Lizzy looked over the floor, at pale brown squarish patches over the slate tile. "My cereal," she said mournfully.

"Now, Lizzy," Fitz said in his most patronizing tone, "don't cry over spilled cereal."

Giana giggled, Maggie rolled her eyes, and Jimmy glanced around the room like he didn't know who to gape at.

Will sighed. "I'll clean it up," he said, moving toward the pantry. Lizzy picked up the box and began sullenly eating the cereal.

"Do you want milk?" Will asked her, broom in hand, and Lizzy shook her head without looking at him, shoving cereal into her mouth. "Do you even want a bowl?" he asked, and chewing, Lizzy shook her head again. Will sighed and began sweeping up the mess.

"Are they always like this?" Jimmy asked Giana.

"Nearly always," Giana said.

"You should get dressed," Will told Lizzy.

Now Lizzy glanced back at him, eyes narrowed over her cereal box, with a significant glare at his plaid flannel pants. "Look who's talking."

"I plan to get dressed as soon as I finish this," Will said in his most patient voice.

"How hard is it for you to understand that I hate getting bossed around?" Lizzy replied in her most annoyed tone.

"Do you have skis or not?" Will asked.

"Whoa, way to change the subject," Lizzy snorted.

"There's a place down the mountain that loans out skis, and since you didn't seem to bring—" Will began.

"Oh, you want to take me to go rent skis," Lizzy realized, lowering the cereal box from her face.

"Fitz and I brought up everyone else's skis," Maggie explained. "Since you don't have any—"

"No, I definitely have some," Lizzy replied, "but they're cross-country. I wasn't sure if they had trails running around here or not."

"Cross-country?" Fitz said, lifting the top of the high chair up and pulling Zarine out of it. "Isn't that the kind where you have to hike up the hill before you can ski down it?"

"It's made for flat terrain," Maggie explained. "Kind of like running. Or the Nordic track."

"Doesn't sound like fun to me," Fitz grumbled. "Sounds like work."

"Yeah, but you don't have to rely on a ski lift to get you anywhere," Lizzy pointed out.

"You should get dressed, Lizzy," Will repeated, bending down with the dust pan to sweep away the pile of sugar and grain that had once been Lizzy's cereal. When he noticed the entire room staring at him, he added, "What? The lifts open in an hour; I'd prefer an early start."

"Okay, Will," Lizzy said, rolling the cereal bag into the box and closing the top over it. "We've been over this before, but maybe I should try being more blunt: Will, you're going about this all wrong, and it's pissing me off. You should say, 'Lizzy, I noticed that you didn't bring your skis. Do you want to head downhill and get outfitted before the lifts open?' By asking it as a question, a demand becomes a request, which sounds so much better than your do-it-now attitude."

Will scowled, and Fitz snickered. Maggie went to the closet and pulled out a giant pink and green playpen and began setting it up. At the bar, Jimmy and Giana looked from Will to Lizzy.

"Come on, Will," Lizzy said with an encouraging smirk. "Practice with me. Ask me, 'Do you want to rent skis?'"

Will glared at her.

"Then, I'll say yes," Lizzy went on, moving toward the cabinets to put the crushed cereal box away, "and you can say, 'Why don't I finish cleaning this up and give you a chance to get dressed? We'll leave in about ten minutes.' That sounds nice. You should say that."

"Lizzy—" Will started warningly, standing up straight.

"And while you're at it, you might as well say, 'Lizzy, I'm so sorry I was a complete and utter asshole and started everyone's day off sucky,'" Lizzy added, turning back to glare at him.

"No, this isn't a terribly bad start, not for me," Giana said, holding her bowl to her mouth, preparing to slurp down the milk. "It's quite amusing actually."

"So you know," Lizzy told Will, arms crossed, "it's really hard to be intimidating with a dustpan in one hand and a broom in the other."

Giana giggled, and when her brother turned his scowl to her, she concentrated on drinking the contents of her bowl.

"Do you want me to get you a fresh glass?" Jimmy asked her. "Of milk?"

Giana shook her head. "No thanks. This is sweetened."

Will strode over to the closet, dumped the contents of the dustpan in the trash, put the dustpan back on the shelf, leaned the broom against the back wall, closed the closet, and turned toward his bedroom.

"Where do you think you're going?" Lizzy asked him, leaning her elbows on the counter, chin in her hands, peering at him over the bar.

Will came to a halt between the couch he'd previously occupied and the playpen that Fitz and Maggie were setting up for Zarine. "To get dressed," Will replied, jaw tight. "Is that a problem?"

"Don't forget about your dishes," Lizzy said, nodding at the empty coffee mug he'd left on the side-table. "That needs to go in the dishwasher."

"Marry me, and I'll do it," Will said stoutly, arms crossed and glaring.

Lizzy snorted. "Cute," she said, "but you'll do it anyway. Maggie's your manager; she's not your maid, and neither is anyone else. You have to pick up after yourself."

Will scowled and took a step forward, reaching for the mug.

Fitz laughed, Giana giggled, Maggie shook her head smiling, Lizzy fought a smirk, and Jimmy looked like he was wondering if it wasn't too late to leave.

Maggie took pity on him. "This is normal, Jimmy."

"Normal?" Jimmy repeated, eyebrows raised, mouth in a tight line.

"Will has this crazy idea that if he asks her enough times, she'll come around," Fitz explained, tightening a green plastic wingnut on the side of the playpen.

"She already nags me like we're married already," Will snapped back at the sink, rinsing out his mug.

"Someone has to," Lizzy replied cheerfully.

Giana put down her bowl, empty, and wiped off her milk mustache, grinning. "Don't you have a record, Will?"

Will ignored that, opening the dishwasher.

"Seventeen proposals," Fitz said, taking the baby so that Maggie could put a bundle of blankets and stuffed animals into the playpen for Zarine's benefit.

"A week?" Jimmy said awed.

"A day," Lizzy replied, picking up Giana's bowl and putting it in the dishwasher, "and that's not accurate. He got up to twenty-three once on the phone with me."

When Jimmy's mouth dropped open, Will made a face and placed his mug ceremoniously in the dishwasher. "It was a four hour phone conversation," Will pointed out.

"Then there was that onstage proposal," Fitz added with a widening grin, and Lizzy grimaced apologetically in Will's direction. "I really thought that one would work too, but apparently, Lizzy's more stubborn than we all thought."

"It worked for Johnny Cash," Will grumbled.

"I knew we shouldn't have watched Walk the Line so many times," Maggie said.

"When were you onstage?" asked Jimmy.

"I'm a musician," Will replied scowling, and Jimmy frowned back.

"I think Jimmy was asking Lizzy," Giana said with a slow quiet grin.

"Last September, when I snuck into the last concert of B.F.D's third tour to see what all the fuss was about," Lizzy said cheerfully. "Good thing I went too. A fan got onstage and tried to kiss Will."

"What'd you do?" Jimmy asked grinning.

"Climbed up and pulled her off," Lizzy said. But she was looking at Will, who was wearing a bewildered scowl.

"And she ended up singing a duet with Will," said Giana proudly.

"Lizzy was a little tipsy," Fitz added, and Lizzy turnd toward him, with a grin and a shrug.

"'I Want You To Want Me,' wasn't it?" Giana asked, and Lizzy nodded. "A very good performance, all in all. Do you want to watch it?" Giana said, turning to Jimmy excitedly. "It's on Youtube, and we have wireless."

"Maybe later," Jimmy answered quietly, just before the couple in the kitchen reacted:

"This cabin has wireless?" Lizzy said aghast.

"It's on YouTube?" Will said horrified. "How do you know it's on YouTube?"

"Because Maggie gave it to me and told me to put it online," Giana said sweetly.

"Maggie," Will said, pausing as he closed the dishwasher to scowl at her.

"What?" Maggie said defensively. "YouTube is free PR. You don't pass up free PR."

Will began to grumble again and started to escape toward his room, but Lizzy grabbed him around the waist just before he managed to flee the kitchen. "Guess what?" Lizzy asked him smirking, her chin on his chest.

"What?" Will replied irritably.

"You love me," she replied smiling, and Will's scowl softened.

He even bent down and hugged her, his chin on top of her head. "Very much actually."

"I love you too," Lizzy said into his chest.

"Aww," said Giana, beaming at them.

"Quick, Mags," Fitz said. "Get the camera! This may the only chance we have to get a picture of Will and Lizzy not fighting."

Will only held Lizzy tighter, and Lizzy smiled. "I'll go get dressed," she promised.

"Me too," Will replied, taking her hand and walking with her toward their bedrooms.

Maggie was laughing. Fitz was snickering, but all that was easily ignored until Will and Lizzy neared their doors and they heard Giana ask behind them, "Are you all right, Jimmy? You seem a bit off."

Lizzy felt Will stiffen, and she turned halfway toward him.

"I just…can't figure out how their relationship works," Jimmy whispered back.

Will heard, probably took it as some sort of insult to his eligibility or something, and turned around sharply to argue. Before he could speak, Lizzy yanked on his hand and pushed him toward his door. "Just go get dressed," she told him firmly, and Will sighed irritably but went.

4.

"I don't like him," Will said, almost two hours later, sitting between Fitz and Lizzy on a lift chair, glaring at Jimmy's back on the chair just ahead of them.

"Yeah? I don't think anyone could tell," Fitz said, scratching his nose, already red in the cold. "You hide it really well."

Lizzy leaned across Will's chest to grin at Fitz. "That's what I said yesterday."

"Should we start a petition maybe?" Fitz replied.

"I don't like how he invited himself to come with us when we got you skis," Will said, still scowling ahead of them.

"He didn't; Giana did," Lizzy reminded him, looking back out over the scenery: at the dark, snow-heavy treetops, at the slope with the long winding tracks, of the stream just under them, frozen over with blue-white ice. She was definitely bringing her camera with her tomorrow.

"It nearly makes me want to think that he expected it to be our responsibility to outfit him," Will muttered.

"Or maybe he just needed to rent a pair of skis, kind of like Lizzy did," Fitz replied, "but no, that would be too simple."

"Come on, Will," Lizzy said. "He paid for his own skis, just like I did. I don't see what your problem is."

"I don't trust him," Will said scowling.

"Will, you can count the people that you do trust on one hand," Lizzy sighed. "That can't be your excuse for everything."

Will was silent.

Fitz was counting on his gloved fingers, murmuring the names of Will's bandmates, his manager, his sister, his girlfriend. "Holy shit, you can only count them on one hand."

"You forgot Cynthia Grayson," Will said with a sigh.

"Oh," said Fitz and turned to Lizzy smugly. "You were wrong, kiddo. Will trusts six people. That's more than you can count on one hand."

"Should we get him a medal?" Lizzy asked Fitz, with a teasing grin in Will's direction.

"I don't want a medal," Will replied curtly.

"Oh. Well, then," said Lizzy, turning away and reaching out of the lift chair, trying to brush the snow off the treetops.

"I would prefer a victory kiss," Will added with the beginnings of a smile.

Lizzy turned back, smirking, her eyebrows covered by her ski cap. "I think I can handle that," she said and kissed him.

"Aww, shit," Fitz complained, reaching over the safety bar to dust the snow off his snowboard. "I knew I should've gotten on Giana and Jimmy's chair."

"Don't interrupt," Will told his cousin firmly and bent to kiss Lizzy again, but Lizzy was already sitting up straight and facing forward again, blushing at the mountain in front of them.

"I had to do something," Fitz said. "That's the third time you two've found an excuse to kiss each other since we got on the lift. It's a seven minute ride; you could at least wait until we got to the top, for my sake."

"We haven't seen each other in quite a while," Will said defensively.

"What? Did you blink or something?" Fitz asked, watching a lone snowboarder take a tumble down the slope below them and wincing. "Aww, that had to hurt."

"You live with Maggie," Will reminded Fitz. "Lizzy and I don't get to see each other all the time."

"We talk on the phone a lot though," Lizzy reminded him thoughtfully.

"There's only so much you can do on the phone, Lizzy," Will reminded her.

"Help!" Fitz cried, grabbing the armrest to his right and trying to scoot as far away from the couple as possible. "The sweet nothings are coming!"

"Cut it out, Fitz," Lizzy said, clutching at the safety bar. "You're making the chair wobble."

"Uh-oh," Fitz said, beginning to grin. "Did we just figure out why Lizzy likes cross-country so much better than alpine? Is someone maybe a little bit scared of heights? What if I do this?" he asked and started jumping up and down on his seat so that the whole chair started bobbing up and down.

Lizzy's eyes went wider, watching the snow fall from her skis toward the ground way, way below, and she grabbed Will's arm tightly. "I'll tell Maggie," she threatened with a glare.

Fitz stopped abruptly. "You're no fun," he sulked.

"Lizzy, how long have we been dating?" Will asked her.

"Is that a trick question?" Lizzy replied, re-settling herself more carefully on the chair, her back pressed firmly against the seat behind her.

"Did you forget your anniversary or something?" Fitz wanted to know. "Because it doesn't work on Maggie. She's just taken to emailing me a PDF file of our marriage certificate when it gets close."

Will ignored this, watching Lizzy as she tugged the sleeves if her ski jacket over her mittins. "It's just above fourteen months, isn't it?"

"I think so," Lizzy said thoughtfully and nodded. "Yeah."

"Lizzy, do you realize that since we've been a couple, we've spent less than two months with each other?" Will asked.

"No…" Lizzy said slowly, frowning at him, trying to think. "That can't be right."

"I just added it up in my head," Will said. "I'm almost sure—"

"Well, you've been sure and wrong before," Lizzy reminded him, and when Fitz snickered, Will scowled. "Let's go through it together. After Charlie came to propose to Jane at Vickroot, you two hung around for a week and a half at Netherfield before you had to start rehearsals for the tour. That's eleven days."

"The Saturday Night Live deal was next, right?" Fitz offered.

Will's scowl softened slightly. "Four days."

"Five," Lizzy corrected, shaking her head. "I remember, because I had to cancel an appointment."

"That's sixteen total," Will said. "Then Valentine's day. A long weekend."

"Four days," Lizzy said grinning. When Will turned to her, also smiling, she knew that they were both thinking of the same memory—of Will telling Lizzy over the phone that something had come up, that he wasn't going to make it; of Lizzy yelling at him, annoyed and disappointed, until she heard a knock at her apartment door; of Lizzy hanging up the phone and opening the door to reveal…Will, with his cell phone in one hand and lilies in the other. A peace offering, he'd explained, just before he'd kissed her.

"Just don't make out again," Fitz begged.

Lizzy snorted and continued, "Twenty total. Then there was your birthday, that week before the tour started."

"Twenty-seven," Will said, kissing Lizzy's cheek.

"How 'bout the two-week tour break?" Fitz said, obviously hoping to distract them. "Maggie rented us a place at the beach, and we parked the bus in the driveway."

"What's twenty-seven and fourteen?" Lizzy asked, annoyed at her math skills and wondering if she'd been relying on her calculator too much.

"Forty-one," said Fitz with a long-suffering sigh.

"There were those two weekends," Will said. "One at that B & B place."

"The Swag. In the North Carolina mountains. It wasn't nearly as isolated as you thought," Lizzy said nodding. She smirked, remembering how pissed Will had been when he'd been asked for a total of thirty-two autographs for the other guests' daughters, grand-nieces, godchildren, cousins, etc. From the scowl that had returned to Will's face, it was pretty clear that Will didn't treasure that memory as much as Lizzy did. "Then the other one in Hawaii. That's—what? Eight more days?"

"Seven," Will said with a slight grin. "Don't try to round up."

"We're at forty-eight," Fitz said matter-of-factly.

"Then, I came to your last concert in September and hung around for a little under a week," Lizzy reminded him, zipping up the collar of her ski jacket.

"Six days. Fifty-four total," Will said.

"Then six days between my birthday and our anniversary," Lizzy said. "That's sixty. That's two months."

"Sixty-one is two months," Will said firmly.

"Well, you forgot to add the past two days," Fitz reminded them. "That's sixty-two. Which is still pretty sad."

"Well, shit," Lizzy said aghast, looking at Will. "I never see you."

"I did tell you," Will reminded her. "Marry me."

"Can we put the safety bar up now?" Fitz asked. Will and Lizzy turned to notice that they were three posts away from the end of the lift.

Lizzy loosened her grip on the safety bar so that Fitz could raised it. "Will, this is serious," she told him.

"So am I," Will replied, gathering his poles into one hand and Lizzy's arm in the other. "Marry me."

"Will," Lizzy warned, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm with Jimmy," Fitz muttered, turning his hips in his seat so that the nose of his snowboard pointed forward. "Can't figure out how the hell you guys work."

Will turned his scowl toward his cousin, but it was their turn to disembark. Giana and Jimmy were already off the lift and skiing off the side, out of the way. A mound of snow came up under them, and they each stood up, with Will gripping Lizzy's elbow to make sure she kept her balance.

"Finally!" Giana said grinning and hopping a little in place on her skis as Jimmy watched behind her. "You lot took forever."

"Ignore Fitz," Lizzy suggested, re-strapping on her poles as they skied to a stop just next to Giana and Jimmy. "He just misses Maggie."

"Mags!" Fitz moaned, tearing off his gloves and leaning against a snowdrift so that he could strap in his boots to his board. "Why did you abandon me to these adolescents?"

"Didn't she say she had work to do?" Lizzy asked.

"She was lying," Fitz grumbled, hunched over, his hair escaping from his beanie in a red tuft. "She's just going to stick around and play with Zarine."

"Why didn't you stay with her then?" Giana asked, poling closer.

Fitz sighed, stuffing his hands back into his gloves. "I'm on a recon mission. She wants me to figure out which slopes she should ski. She doesn't trust anyone else to do it."

"Sounds like Maggie had quite a bit of work to do, and she didn't want any distractions," Giana said knowingly as Jimmy scooted up next to her.

Fitz collapsed against the snowdrift, muttering "I feel so unloved."

Lizzy laughed, and Giana patted his shoulder fondly with her green mitten and said, "I love you, Fitz. You're my favorite cousin."

"Thanks, little G," Fitz said.

"Marry me," Will told Lizzy.

"Not that again," Giana complained. "Didn't we come out here to ski?"

"How is that going to help any?" Lizzy said scowling. "It won't change our schedules. It'll probably make mine worse, because then I'll have a wedding to plan."

"We'll live together," Will pointed out hopefully.

"I work in New York," Lizzy reminded him, "and you live in England."

Will scowled at the ground, until he noticed Jimmy shaking his head with a slight smile. Then, he redirected his scowl back to his sister's boyfriend.

Giana noticed and quickly asked, "Are we quite ready now?"

"Quite," Fitz said with a grin, standing up and hopping in the direction of the ski run to give himself some momentum.

Giana and Jimmy scooted to the top of the hill with him, but when Lizzy tried to skate after them, Will placed a hand on her shoulder. "Wait."

"Will, stop bothering Lizzy so we can ski," Giana called over her shoulder.

"Lizzy doesn't know how to ski," Will called back.

"Will," Lizzy replied annoyed, "you know I can ski. I skied to Netherfield when Jane got sick, remember?"

"That was cross-country," Will reminded her. "This is rather different."

"Well, this could go on all day," Fitz said, standing at the top of the hill, half of his board already hanging over the edge of the hill. "I'll see you adolescents at the bottom."

"Will, I can ski both—" Lizzy started, planting her pole and leaning on them.

"You'll seriously hurt yourself if you try to approach it the same way," Will warned her.

"Will—" Lizzy started again, narrowing her eyes.

"I'll teach you, Lizzy," he offered. "It won't take long."

Lizzy stood for a moment, leaning on her ski poles and frowning. "Fine," she sighed. "If you want to teach me how to ski, then teach."

"Ready, Giana?" Jimmy asked hopefully.

"Hold on for a moment," Giana said, grinning at her brother and his girlfriend and adjusting her mitten with her teeth. "I think we'll want to see this. Do you have your camera?" she asked Jimmy, turning abruptly

As they shuffled to the start of the run, Lizzy listened doggedly to Will's enthusiastic explanation about the fundamental difference between cross-country skiing and alpine: the turns. Turns, as Will put it, were simple as long as you grasped the concept: shifting your weight from one ski to the other. If Lizzy wanted to go slower on her first try—and Will strongly recommended this—she should turn her toes in to situate her skis in an wedge shape, which would act as a snowplow would and—

"Can we just go already?" Lizzy interrupted, planting her poles between her skis irritably.

"You would like to try?" Will asked with a small fond smile.

"Yeah, Will," Lizzy said annoyed, bending to rest her chin on the top of her ski poles. "I want to ski."

"All right," Will said, pushing himself over the edge of the hill with his poles and turning immediately. "I'll just demonstrate," he continued, doing a series of smooth S-shaped turns down the slope and came to a complete, controlled stop. "Do it like this. Now don't worry about using your poles yet; I'll explain those when you need them."

"Is it my turn yet?" Lizzy asked exasperated, and from her place at the top of the slope, Giana giggled.

"Yes. Go ahead. Just like I did," Will said and watched as Lizzy pushed herself forward and came down the hill. Of course, she didn't manage to do it exactly like Will did. Instead, she pointed her skis toward Will and cut a straight line across Will's slow, careful S-shaped tracks.

"No, Lizzy—you need to turn," Will said patiently. Then, when he noticed Lizzy was still headed straight for him, he added hastily, "Turn, Lizzy. Turn!"

Lizzy did turn, abruptly, just a few feet from Will, digging the edges of her skis into the side of the hill so sharply that snow shot up under them and showered over Will's head.

"Oops," Lizzy said, but she was smirking.

"Perhaps you might try again," Will said quietly, wiping snow from his face and glancing up the hill to where Jimmy and Giana were watching and laughing.

Will demonstrated a second time. He even showed Lizzy how to form the wedge shape with her skis, and waited and watched a little farther down the hill. Lizzy followed, slowly at first, making precise turns down the hill, her skis in that wedge shape. Halfway down, though, she seemed to almost lose control: hurtling toward Will again and stopping once more, just in time, but again spraying Will with snow.

"What are the chances?" Lizzy said in an awed voice. "Twice in a row. One more time, do you think?"

"I suppose," Will said, straight-faced, dusting his jacket off.

"I'll try parallel skis this time," Lizzy decided.

Will didn't bother to demonstrate this time. He made his way quickly down to the bottom of the slope and waited in front of the trees. Lizzy came behind him, skiing just as quickly, her turns quick and sharp, and when she was close enough, she hockey-stopped a third time, just close enough to Will that he was again coated in loose snow. Then, she skied behind him and parked herself just below him, leaning on her poles again as she waited for the other two to catch up.

"You know how to ski," Will said, shaking the snow out of his hair.

"Yep," said Lizzy smugly. "You have no idea how many ski weekends a model gets invited to." Then she added with a warning scowl, "You really should learn how to listen, Mr. Darcy. 'Cause it's starting to get old."

Will sighed, and his sister skied up. "Lizzy, you're quite good," Giana said. "Your technique might even be better than Will's."

Lizzy beamed, and Will only sighed again.

Jimmy slid to a stop next to Giana, looking from Will to Lizzy and waiting.

"Come on," Lizzy said, shuffling up the slope a little so that she was close enough to brush the snow off his shoulder and kiss him briefly. "I'll race you to the bottom," she added grinning and turned down the mountain.

5.

"Are we going to stop arguing soon?" Fitz grumbled, scooting to a stop next to the Antler Chandelier Lodge and dropping to a seat in the snow. "Because I'm hungry."

"I think we should go back," Will said, stopping next to his cousin. There was no telling what could go on when certain people were alone and unsupervised. "No use in eating out when we have food at the cabin."

Lizzy rolled her eyes and slowed next to Fitz. Will was just glad that she refrained from spraying him with snow this time; she was getting uncommonly good at it. "You just want to go check on Jimmy and Giana to make sure they're not doing anything that you and I would do if we were alone together," she said shrewdly.

Will wasn't sure how he felt about being so transparent.

"Relax, Will," Maggie said, stopping in front of the ski rack. "They're watching Zarine and maybe some TV."

"Still—" Will started looking down the hill.

"Oh, shut up, Will," Maggie muttered, snapping off her skis. "I'm hungry, I'm sleep-deprived, and I want to eat a meal that I don't need to cook or clean up."

Lizzy laughed, stepping out of her own skis and hooking them together. "I guess we're eating here."

Fitz didn't answer but shoved his snowboard into the snow, tail first.

"We'll see someone we know," Will muttered, using his poles to unsnap his boots from his skis.

"Paranoid," Lizzy said in a sing-song at the ski rack as she hooked her pole straps over her ski tips.

"We will," Will said decisively, settling his skis next to hers, "simply because I would rather not."

"Uh-huh," Lizzy said, taking his hand and heading toward the steps. "You know," she added, turning to him as she started clunking up the steps, "you're lucky that I think you're sexy when you scowl."

Will couldn't manage to stop a smile from growing on his face after such a comment, and Lizzy grinned, her other hand on the swinging door. "That's cute too," she added and stepped inside.

She rushed back out almost immediately, eyes wide. What worried Will more was that her tight, wary grip on Will's hand. "Let's go eat at the cabin," she told him.

"Absolutely not," Maggie said, tearing off her hat and shaking out her dark hair as she stomped up the steps.

"But—" Lizzy said helplessly.

"Who is it, kiddo?" Fitz asked, coming up behind Maggie. "The Bingley sisters?"

Will cringed inwardly, wondering if there was any way that he could convince Lizzy to leave Fitz and Maggie and escape by themselves.

Lizzy nodded, horrified. "And this model I knew once. Signed by Victoria Secret almost as soon as she started. Real full of herself."

"You two weren't close, I suppose," Will said with a small smile.

Fitz opened the door, propping it open with his boot. Will watched him peer inside for a sneak peek.

"She's…not a nice person," Lizzy replied. Will tsked under his breath, guessing that it was a understatement. "And she doesn't like me much either. I started calling her 'Harpy,' and apparently it stuck."

Will stiffened, then reproached himself firmly. It couldn't be the same one; it was too much of a coincidence.

"You gave her that nickname?" Maggie said with a slight, surprised frown.

"You guys know her?" Lizzy replied.

Fitz and Will exchanged glances—Will's with growing horror, Fitz's with growing sympathy.

"This might suck for you," Fitz told him.

"Well, come on," Maggie said, walking forward with a sigh. "We're letting in all the cold air."

Maggie had just enough time to slip inside before someone else, blonde and dressed in black, hurtled out the door and wrapped her arms around Will's neck.

"Get off," Lizzy told Caroline Bingley, eyes narrowed. "I'm holding his hand, for fuck's sake. How much more obvious can we get?"

Will knew he should say something here, but he couldn't think what.

"I'm sorry," Caroline said, tearing herself away, staring at Will longingly—tragically—through her long, straight-ironed hair. "I…I just—when I see you, Will, I can't help myself. I can't help but think of how we were…"

"Err…" said Will, glancing sidelong at Lizzy, but she only rolled her eyes.

"Come on," Maggie said impatiently.

As she stepped inside and dragged Will with her, he noticed some mascara-ed eyelashes fluttering in the corner of his eye, and as he turned, he heard Lizzy say exasperatedly, "Give it a rest, Caroline."

Louisa was standing just inside the door, a pink ski jacket over her arm, its blue wool lining exposed. She stared at them lazily, as each of them stepped inside and tried to shake off some snow. Next to her was an unpleasantly familiar slim figure clad in a black ski suit, her long black hair held back with a braided wool headband, her neck wrapped in a violet silk scarf. Knowing her, she wore the scarf only because it brought out the color of her eyes. Or perhaps because it was expensive. Probably because it was expensive. Probably both.

"This is my friend—" Caroline started, turning to the slim figure.

"Desi Harper," said Will with resignation and awkwardly nodded.

"Oh, you know each other," Caroline said, obviously disappointed.

"Intimately," said Desi Harper.

Will forced himself not to wince. He tried to bring himself to look at Lizzy but couldn't.

Desi Harper was smiling at him in a way that Will remembered he didn't like. Almost as if she was going to devour him in some way. "It's been a long time. Will," she said.

"Yes," said Will, uncomfortably aware of Lizzy's gaze on him.

"So formal," Desi Harper replied, and her smile widened. "It's almost like you aren't happy to see me."

Caroline sighed heavily, sniffed, and seemed to wipe something from her eye. "I need to go…freshen up," she said and disappeared down a hallway.

"Hey, Desi," said Lizzy, and Will glanced down at her. Her bright eyes were narrowed, even suspicious.

"Beth Bennette," replied Desi Harper, turning coolly to Lizzy. "I've heard you're still pulling your usual stunts. Messing around with cameras. Climbing onstage during live concerts—"

"Yeah, well, it's also been a long time," Lizzy interrupted with a challenging smirk. It worried Will when she dropped his hand so that she could cross her arms defiantly over her chest. To give himself something to do, he pulled off his jacket and took it to the guest closet to hang up. Through the closet's doorway, he heard Lizzy continue, "Five years and then some, right?"

"Not long enough," Desi Harper said, and Will turned around just fast enough to see her lower her lashes.

"Oh, good—you're being pretty clear about who the bitch is in this situation," Lizzy said with a wide, relieved smile. "That means I don't have to be nice."

Will threw a silent plea for help in Fitz's direction, and Fitz rolled his eyes but took pity on his cousin. "Well, you might want to be subtle, kiddo. This is the kind of place where they'll throw you out for bad behavior."

"Which better not happen," Maggie warned, walking over to the podium where the hostess was waiting. "It's not fun. Fitz and I know from experience."

"Besides, if we don't feed Maggie soon, she'll eat us," Fitz finished with a wide grin and a wink at Will.

"I guess we'll have to act our age or something," Lizzy told Desi Harper with a smile, "or we won't get lunch."

Will tried very hard not to breathe a sigh of relief and almost managed. The sigh wasn't audible, at least.

"How many?" asked the hostess politely.

With that smile that Will didn't like, Desi Harper said, "We've already eaten."

"Four," Maggie told the hostess.

"Would you mind giving us three minutes?" asked the hostess, and when Will looked, the hostess was collecting menus.

"Okay," muttered Maggie, obviously disappointed. Will sympathized silently.

"You're not eating with us? That's—" Fitz started to tell Louisa Bingley, but stopped mid-sentence when he noticed his wife scowling at him. "A shame," Fitz said, nodding with a strained smile.

Will glanced around and assessed the situation: Louisa was watching Desi shrewdly; Desi was watching Will—Will looked away as quickly as possible; and Lizzy—Will noticed with relief—had decided to make good on her word. She was smiling even, as she looked over the menu that someone had put in a bronze case on the wall.

"So…how was the food, Louisa?" Fitz asked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his snowboard pants.

"The wine selection was poor," replied Louisa, and it didn't surprise Will at all to hear her sounding bored.

"Good reason to move onto hard liquor then," Fitz replied cheerfully.

Will turned quickly, scowling, prepared to help his cousin reconsider, but Maggie beat him to it, saying "Not at this altitude."

"Aww—come on, Mags," Fitz said, wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulders. "It can't be any worse than playing beer pong on the back of the tourbus with Will and Charlie."

Lizzy laughed, which Will took to be a very good sign. "When was that?"

"About three years ago," Will explained to Lizzy. She refused to look at him, though; she wasn't as carefree as he'd just assumed.

"Before we were married," Maggie told Lizzy, who laughed again, and Will risked putting a hand on her shoulder. He relaxed a little when she didn't shrug it off.

"You aren't still using a tourbus, are you?" Desi Harper asked Will as she refashioned the violet scarf around her neck.

Will glanced at Lizzy, who only looked like she was going to laugh.

"Yeah…" Fitz answered slowly.

"Why?" asked Maggie defensively.

"They're getting more dangerous, aren't they? On the roads," Desi said, frowning slightly. "Considering that incident with the Bucketheads."

Will felt Lizzy stiffen under his hand, and when he looked into her face, he noticed that the amused smile had fallen from her face, that she was pale. "Are you all right, Lizzy?" he asked softly.

"What's a Buckethead?" Lousia asked, nearly sneering.

It was Maggie who answered: "The Bucketheads were a band." When Will glanced over, he saw both she and Fitz were watching Lizzy with concern. "They were driving to a concert in Denver late last September when they lost control of their bus and crashed through the guard rails."

"Oh," said Louisa. "Terrible," she added, as an afterthought.

"What's the matter?" Will asked Lizzy, and she looked up slowly, her bright eyes strained.

"You need to be careful," Desi Harper said softly, looking at Will in that way that was rather frightening, "or else I'll have to worry about you."

"Don't, Harpy," Lizzy said, facing the other woman with the most intolerant stare that Will had seen in her since she'd last faced Aunt Catherine de Bourgh. "Don't even try. I'm not in the mood."

Will was surprised when Desi Harper didn't respond, but only blinked back, wide-eyed, mouth slightly open.

"Your table is ready," said the hostess behind them.

"Great," Lizzy said and followed her, shrugging off her jacket furiously.

Will made his goodbyes as quickly as possible, avoided eye contact with Desi Harper, and went into the dining room to find Lizzy seated at their table, staring out the window at the bright, sun-lit hill, her jacket hanging off the wooden, high-backed chair behind her.

"Lizzy, I'm impressed," Maggie said as Fitz pulled out her chair for her. Will wondered for an instant if he should have done the same for Lizzy, but remembered how she'd reacted when he had last tried such a thing: she had raised her eyebrows and walked around the table to sit in the other seat.

"With what?" Lizzy asked, watching Maggie sit down.

"Even the Harpy's afraid of you," Fitz said grinning as he dropped into his own seat.

Lizzy scoffed quietly. "I forgot to tell you: she and I got into a catfight once. After a party. When I was young and violent. Well, more violent."

Will couldn't imagine Lizzy in a catfight. No that wasn't quite true, but he definitely couldn't imagine Desi Harper in one.

"Who won?" Fitz asked, as Will took the seat next to Lizzy.

Grinning, Lizzy flipped open her menu. "Who do you think?"

As difficult as it was for Will to imagine Lizzy in a fight, it was impossible to imagine her losing one.

"What'd she do to deserve that?" Maggie asked, and Will couldn't help grinning with her.

"Slept with my boyfriend," Lizzy said matter-of-factly. Will froze, wondering if she was talking about him, but then Lizzy added, "When I left town and visited Jane at school for a weekend."

Maggie and Fitz exchanged glances and simultaneously dropped their gazes to their menus. Will knew that Maggie would never say anything, but Fitz—

"I'm thinking blackened chicken with asparagus," said Lizzy, frowning at the menu and pointedly ignoring Will's questioning stare. "Or should I get the Elk, since we're up here?"

"The buffalo's good," Fitz said, smirking at Will. "You know, I think I'm going to get the buffalo."

"Are you all right?" Will asked Lizzy again.

"Fine," said Lizzy, and Will was only partly reassured when she glanced up at him.

"You're quite pale," he told her.

"Will," she said sternly, looking back to her menu, "I'm fine."

Will looked back to his own menu and then back at Lizzy, asking quietly, "Are you angry?"

"No…" Lizzy said slowly, "but my opinion of your taste in girlfriends just went way, way down."

Will couldn't stop himself from scowling, especially when Fitz laughed across the table. Even Maggie, it seemed, was trying to hide a smile behind her menu.

"So your opinion had to be pretty high before this, huh?" Fitz asked Lizzy with a grin. "Since he was dating you."

Lizzy grinned back. "Yep."

Will knew what was coming, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"Aren't you going to ask?" Fitz teased.

"Ask what?" Lizzy replied, on the verge of smiling.

Fitz leaned forward to whisper, "About Harpy."

"I don't really want to know," Lizzy said sharply, snapping her menu closed.

"Liar," said Fitz smugly, and Lizzy scowled at him as she sipped from her water glass.

The waitress arrived at the end of the table, telling them that her name was Meghan and that she would be their server this evening; she pulled out a pad and a pen and asked if she could them anything to drink.

"Iced tea, unsweetened," Maggie said and fixed her eye on her husband threateningly.

"Beer," sighed Fitz. The waitress asked what kind. "Sam Adams."

Lizzy still wouldn't look at Will. Instead, she smiled at the waitress. "Do you have hot cider?" Out of the corner of his eye, Will noticed the waitress nod, and Lizzy smiled wider. "I'll have that then."

"And you, sir?"

It took Will a moment to realize that he was being addressed. He glanced up at the waitress briefly and then back to Lizzy. "Just water." It seemed to Will that it took the waitress an extraordinary amount of time to walk away.

Then Fitz leaned toward Will and whispered, "Who wants to bet that she asks for our autograph instead of a tip?"

Before Will could answer, Maggie asked her husband curtly, "What about all your vows that you would never to bet again?"

"Lizzy?" Will asked quietly.

Lizzy looked up, mouth pressed tight, eyebrows raised.

"We should probably dispel the burning suspicion," Fitz said to Maggie, and Lizzy turned toward them.

"It only lasted a week," Maggie explained to Lizzy.

"Let's make a short story even shorter," Fitz said. "Party. Will drunk. Very drunk. Morning. Will wakes up. Discovers a Harpy next to him. Will feels guilty. Will subjects poor defenseless bandmates—"

"--and manager," Maggie added, taking Fitz's hand and smiling.

"To Harpy's presence for a week," Fitz continued, rubbing his thumb over the back of Maggie's hand. "Harpy takes off. End of story."

"That's not the end of the story," Maggie told him with a slight grin.

"Well, I don't remember how he managed to get rid of her," Fitz said sheepishly.

Lizzy glanced up at Will, but he was busy with his menu, trying not to meet anyone's eyes.

"He was himself," Maggie sighed, "at his crankiest."

"Ooo," Lizzy said sympathetically, and Will turned to scowl at her.

"Yeah," said Fitz nodding, "I think I'd leave too."

"You know," Lizzy told Will, and Will felt his scowl drop away, "grown-ups just tell their one-night-stands that they don't want to see them anymore."

"Grown-ups don't use the word grown-up," Fitz pointed out, and Maggie laughed.

"Are you angry?" Will asked Lizzy again.

"Well, why do I always have to pull girls off you?" Lizzy asked scowling.

"Marry me," Will said hopefully.

Lizzy scowled. "There are other things that would work too. Such as, you telling them, 'Sorry, I'm not interested.' It would work a lot better than you standing next to me feeling awkward while I beat off your many fans."

"I'm not like you, Lizzy," Will reminded her, irritated that she would phrase it in that way.

Lizzy folded her arms across her chest, and when Will saw her eyes narrow, he felt his temper abandon him. "Don't give yourself that excuse."

"You are angry then," Will said quietly.

"Yeah, that's pretty obvious," Fitz said, watching their scowls across the table. "I'm thinking it's probably a good thing that they're not sharing a room, after all."

"But Lizzy," Will said, leaning toward her, eyes wide, almost smiling, almost desperate, "I'm the only man you'll ever love."

"Will, you can't just decide something like that—" Maggie started, but Lizzy was grinning now.

"No, actually," Lizzy said, looking up at Will, who smiled back relieved, "that's okay. I kind of like that."

"Huh," Maggie said, mouth slightly open as she leaned back into her seat.

"You can't figure them out, Mags," Fitz told his wife, lifting their linked hands and kissing lightly across her knuckles. "I don't even try anymore."

And Will took it to be a very good sign that Lizzy laughed.

6.

When the door knocked, it was dark except for the glowing light of the moonlight on the snow. Everyone had already gone to bed, and every light was off. The cabin was so quiet that when the knocks rang out, they echoed across the living room ceiling and immediately woke half the house. The second round of knocking woke up the other two, but by then, Lizzy and Will were already in their doorways, peering around their doors at the front entrance.

"What time is it?" Lizzy asked bleary-eyed and squinting.

"After eleven," Will answered, his voice hoarse from sleep.

The living room was so dark that there was only the occasional gleam of moonlight on leather to remind Lizzy where the furniture was.

"Who the fuck is trying to visit now?" Giana asked, sitting up in bed and yawning irritably.

Even the embers from the evening fire had burnt down to a minimal glow, barely enough to illuminate the stone ledge in front of the fireplace. The only part of the room that Lizzy could see clearly was the piano—gleaming in the moonlight coming from the window behind it—and the little Christmas tree next to it.

"Dunno, I'll find out though," Lizzy told her, groping along the wall next to her. "Where are the lights?"

"No, don't turn them on," Will hissed. Lizzy glanced his way, just able to see the scowl in his profile against the embers, and watched him reach for something at the side of the fireplace. "He'll know where we are."

The knock sounded again, as Lizzy stood frowning and Will lifted the object in his hand. "A fire poker, Mr. Darcy? And what are you planning on doing with that?"

"Who do you think is on the other side of that bloody door?" Will snapped back, as she came around the couch toward the kitchen. "Saint Nicholas?"

"Well, no—that'd be tomorrow night, when it's Christmas Eve," Lizzy said, heading for the front entrance.

"Lizzy, get away from there!" Will said, rushing forward.

"Relax, Will—Ow!" she cried, as Will grabbed her wrist and yanked her back, hard, just before she reached the door. She scowled at him through the dark, trying to twist away. "What the fuck, that hurt, you shithead."

"You don't have any idea who that could be, what he could want, what he could do to you—" Will began angrily.

"Yeah, you're right," Lizzy snapped back, prying his fingers from her wrist. "That's why I was going to look through the fucking peephole."

"What's going on?" Giana asked, standing now in the doorway of the bedroom she shared with Lizzy. In his own doorway, Jimmy frowned but couldn't answer.

Whoever it was on the other side knocked again, harder, and Will blinked in the darkness several times. "I suppose that's all right," he said, but Lizzy was already going on her tiptoes to look.

She snorted softly and reached for the lock.

"Lizzy," Will said, raising one hand to stop her and gripping the poker with the other, but Lizzy rolled her eyes, unlatched the door, and opened it.

"It's just Jane and Charlie," Lizzy told him, shaking her head and holding open the door.

"Oh, is that all?" Giana said. "I'll just go back to sleep then. Goodnight, all. 'Night, Jimmy."

"Sorry," Charlie said with a sheepish grin as he walked in carrying several shopping bags.

After Giana blew Jimmy a kiss, both doors across the living room closed.

"Did we wake you?" asked Jane worriedly, hugging her sister, several bags hanging from her hands. "Charlie forgot to bring a key with him."

"Of course, you bloody well woke us," Will said, glaring at them both and returning to the fireplace to hang the iron poker back up. "You banged on the door three bloody times."

"You freaked Will out," Lizzy said, wrinkling her nose. "He thought we had someone like the Santa Hat Serial Killer coming to do us all in."

"It could have been anyone," Will protested.

"Yeah, you'd think that somebody dangerous wouldn't knock on the front door if they felt like killing someone," Lizzy pointed out, grabbing some bags out of Jane's hands to help, "and it makes sense that it'd be Jane and Charlie, who called a couple hours ago to say that they'd be late. Admit it. You were scared."

Will scowled, and Lizzy laughed, turning back to Jane and Charlie. "Ignore him. He's going to pout.—So, how was the trip?" she asked Jane. "How many times were you delayed?"

Jane sighed, glancing over at Charlie, as he set his bags down on the couch and opened the fridge. "A lot."

"Bummer," Lizzy replied. "If you're still hungry, Charlie, we made you some plates."

Charlie pulled them out, two big blue Saran-wrapped plates with narrow yellow lumps on them. He squinted at them in the dark, snapped on the nearest set of light switches, and looked at them again. "Are these omelets?"

The kitchen glowed as the lightbulbs warmed up, and shadows stretched behind Lizzy and into the living room, as she came to the bar and took a seat on a stool, facing the kitchen. "Well, it was Giana's night to cook," she explained grinning, "and Jimmy promised to help her, and—"

"All the kid knows how to make is omelets," Will finished, coming to the bar and dropping onto the barstool on Lizzy's right side.

"Lay off the poor kid, Will," Charlie said, putting one of the plates in the microwave and then thinking better of it. "Jane, is this going to taste good reheated?"

Jane pressed her lips together, half-smiling, and shook her head.

"Pitch 'em and go for Maggie's leftover spaghetti," Lizzy offered. "I promise not to tell."

"Did we miss much? Staying in Bozeman all day?" Jane asked, leaning against the counter on her elbows.

"How was the skiing?" Charlie asked, taking the Tupperware containers of pasta and sauce out.

"Great," Lizzy replied grinning. "Will even taught me how to ski."

"But you know how to ski," Jane said confused, opening the cabinet with the dishware in it.

"Yeah, if he'd only let me tell him that," Lizzy said grinning at Will and rubbing his back between the shoulder blades.

Will smiled back, very slightly.

"We ate lunch at a nice place with Fitz and Maggie," Lizzy continued. "We skied a little more, we came back had dinner. Fitz couldn't find any place around here that sold Christmas trees—"

"Really? But tomorrow's Christmas Eve," Charlie said, dishing pasta and sauce onto the two blue plates that Jane set on the counter.

Lizzy admired the way they moved together around the kitchen, how Chalrie leaned away from the counter so that Jane could open the silverware drawer at his waist, how Jane ducked when Charlie pulled the cabinet door wide above her head in his search for Saran Wrap. Lizzy framed a photograph absent-mindedly: of Jane bent slightly, smiling a little and watching Charlie reach, his face tilted up, his hand on his fiance's shoulder.

"Trust me," Lizzy said grinning. "Fitz was way more upset about it than you are. He was determined to make sure Zarine has a tree for her second Christmas."

"You should've called," Jane said. "We could've gotten one while we were Christmas shopping in Bozeman."

Jane and Charlie both moved like they already knew where the other one was going. Lizzy wondered if Will noticed. She wondered if he noticed that he and Lizzy hadn't gotten that far yet. How could they, though, when they only saw each other two months out of fourteen?

"No, we definitely got one," Lizzy said, pointing at the little four-foot tree nestled between the piano and the window behind it and covered with hand-made snowflakes and spiraling strips of paper that gleamed in the half-light. "After it got dark, he snuck out into the backyard with Jimmy and a saw, and they came back with that little thing next to the piano."

"It's so cute!" Jane cried, as Charlie put one of the plates into the microwaves. "Did you make the decorations yourselves?"

"Yep," said Lizzy proudly. "Giana and I were feeling craftsy while we all sat around her computer watching YouTube."

"Lizzy even donated some of her prints to the cause," Will said, looking at her.

"You didn't," Jane said, almost horrified.

"They were all underexposed anyway," Lizzy said shrugging, watching Charlie scoop the two cold omelets in the garbage disposal. "It wasn't that big of a deal."

"What were you watching on YouTube?" Charlie asked.

Will sighed. "The stage career of Elizabeth Bennet."

"Oh, when you climbed onstage during that last B.F.D. concert?" Jane asked with a widening smile. "I love that one."

"So you also knew it was there," Will grumbled.

"You didn't? I watch it all the time," Jane said, and Lizzy wrinkled her nose in Will's direction, half-laughing.

The microwave beeped, and Charlie turned around and opened its door. "I didn't know we even taped it.--That's yours, by the way," Charlie told Jane, placing the plate in front of her and picking up the cold one in the microwave.

"What? No, Charlie," Jane protested. "You did all the work. It's yours."

"I made it for you," Charlie told her, putting a fork in her hand. "Eat, or you'll hurt my feelings."

"Look, Will," Lizzy said with a lazy smile. "We get to find out once and for all which one is the nicest."

Will snickered, and Jane scolded, "Lizzy."

"You know, you could get two forks and eat from the same plate," Lizzy suggested.

"The one in the microwave oven could be seconds," Will added with a small, tired grin.

Jane dug in the drawer for another fork and pressed it into Charlie's hand with a small, triumphant smile.

"I still say that it would've been better if we had performed 'You Told Me' instead," Will said, folding his arms on top of the counter and laying his head down.

"Well, I still refuse to sing that song with you," Lizzy retorted, as Charlie started tugging the Saran wrap off the plate. "No one knows the other side of the story except us, so I just come off sounding like a bitch. Besides, you guys had already performed that song in the first set. You would've sounded ridiculous if you repeated it."

"Not if you sang the bits you said and I did the rest," Will protested, closing his eyes.

"No," Lizzy said stubbornly.

"No one would have cared what you sang if you'd agreed to marry him," Jane said.

"Oh no, Jane—not you too," Lizzy murmured, pretending to be horrorstruck. "My own sister."

"Lizzy, I think you're the only woman I know who would reject an onstage proposal," Charlie said with a very slight, very disapproving frown. Lizzy raised her eyebrows.

"Yes, but she was quite right," Will said, settling his chin on his forearms, eyes closed, but facing Charlie's direction. "I knew better than to pressure her like that."

"Ooo, you just earned yourself a lot of points right there," Lizzy told him smiling, and Will grinned back briefly and yawned.

"Here," Jane said, trying to put a forkful of pasta into Charlie's slightly gaping mouth.

Charlie drew his head back, staring at her laden fork. "What?"

"Open your mouth please," Jane said smiling. Charlie sighed and opened his mouth, and when Jane put the fork inside, Charlie wrapped his hand around hers tenderly.

"Okay, if you two are going to start feeding each other, I think I'm going to go to bed, and I'm taking Will with me," Lizzy said, sliding off her stool. Will didn't move, his eyes closed, his head pillowed on his arms. "Will," she scolded, her hand on his shoulder.

"I'll get up in a moment," Will promised, burying his head further into his arms.

"No, you'll get up now," Lizzy said, kissing his cheek and taking his hand. "Come on."

Sighing, Will straightened up and let Lizzy tug him off the chair and toward their respective bedrooms.

"Goodnight!" Jane said.

"'Night—ooo, careful, Will," Lizzy said, guiding Will around an ottoman before he tripped over it. Will mumbled something in response, but Lizzy couldn't catch it. It was easier to see now with the kitchen throwing out light in front of them, but Will's eyes were half-closed and sleepy.

"Will, I'm pretty sure you do need glasses," Lizzy told him, pulling him left away so that he didn't bump into a lamp-laden end table.

Will didn't respond, except with a slight frown, so Lizzy maneuvered him around the couches and armchairs and stopped him just in front of his door, telling him "Okay, Mr. Darcy. This is your stop. Hurry up and kiss me goodnight, so you can go to bed." He hugged her instead, tightly around the shoulders, and Lizzy laughed slightly and linked her arms around his waist. "Well, I guess this works too."

"I was wrong to ask you then, during the concert," Will said, his chin on top of her head. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Lizzy wanted, holding him back slightly so that she could squint up at him. "Have you been worrying about that all day?"

Something was wrong, she noticed. Will was frowning, which wasn't exactly unusual, but there wasn't a glare attached to that frown. And she couldn't get him to look her in the eye, even when she angled her face toward his.

It meant that something was bothering Will, and he didn't want to worry Lizzy with it. Yet.

Instead of answering, he took her right hand and looked at her. "Does it hurt?"

"Will, what's wrong?" Lizzy asked, beginning to worry.

"When I grabbed it. By the door. Did I hurt you?" Will asked, and Lizzy noticed that he was looking at the ring on her finger, sparkling in the kitchen's leftover light.

Lizzy glanced back at the kitchen, but Jane and Charlie were discussing something. Jane's face was intent, her lips pressed tight together. Neither of them had noticed that Will and Lizzy hadn't made it to bed yet.

"Well, first of all, it was my left hand—" Lizzy told Will, and he immediately took her left hand and examined it. "Second, it doesn't hurt. Third, what's wrong, Will? You're freaking me out."

Will sighed heavily and let her go. "I'll just go to bed now," he said, putting his hand on the doorknob.

"Will—" Lizzy started, grabbing his arm so that he couldn't leave her yet.

"I'm all right, Lizzy," he said, kissing her quickly and looking away even faster. "I'm only very tired."

"I know that's not it," Lizzy said annoyed.

He opened his door, without looking at her. "Don't worry. I'll see you in the morning. I am sorry about your wrist. You were right; I was afraid."

"Will," Lizzy hissed again as he stepped inside his room.

"Hmm?" he said, returning her gaze with a tight smile, and Lizzy knew that she wasn't going to be able to get anything out of him that night.

What Lizzy really wanted was to argue with him some more, but instead she let go of his arm and sighed. "I love you," she said, "but you're going to have to tell me what's wrong sooner or later."

Will kissed her goodnight, long and slow, one hand—the one with the guitar calluses--cradling her cheek. "Fair enough," he told her.

Lizzy watched him for a moment frowning, took in his sad, stubborn face, and went to her own door and her own bed.

There was only one other time that Lizzy could remember Will acting this way: that summer at the Maine Coast. He had gotten quieter and quieter, asking her strange, disjointed questions, until finally he had stopped speaking to Lizzy altogether, becoming almost too distracted to even look at her. Lizzy, of course, had assumed that it was her, something she'd done, and she'd responded how she usually did when she knew someone was upset with her and she thought she didn't deserve it. She was even planning to just leave until Charlie stepped in, explaining that Will's mother had died, around this time in late July but sixteen years before. Her car had driven off a seaside cliff and crashed into the surf below.

Lizzy found Will at the shore a little while later. He was sitting on a rock, seaweed washing in and drying below his feet, his hands supporting his weight behind him. He was frowning, only slightly, watching the water. She had stopped, just where she was, and taken a picture—the only one of Will that she loved and would never develop. He had turned when he heard the shutter click, had almost smiled when she sat down at his side and grasped his hand. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, listening to the loons call to each other on the water.

Then Will sighed and let his head rest on top of hers. She slid her arms around his waist in response.

"Charlie told you," he said.

"Yeah."

"I didn't ask him to."

Lizzy kissed him, tenderly, just where his jaw met his ear. "I know."

"She loved me. My mother," he explained. "That's what I remember best about her. Mum loved me and Giana very much, and I never felt that from Father."

Lizzy held him closer then, because she didn't know what to say. And then they never spoke about Will's mother after that day, except for a few very oblique references.

But that was the image that stayed with Lizzy when she lay in the dark, trying to sleep and listening to Giana's heavy breathing—the same one caught in the negative that she put in her darkroom's enlarger and stared at when the dreams woke her up, when she worried about Will the most. The image was this: Will in profile, sitting on a rock. The water throwing up light, just beyond the slight bump in his nose. And his face, frowning just slightly, just enough for Lizzy to worry.