: :

Coconut Trees
by Anton M.

Chapter 11: Bracelet

: :

Elizabeth took Darcy's temperature. The 38.6 degrees Celsius would've felt reassuring had his exhaustion and general appearance not suggested otherwise. She helped him drink water and take his medicine.

"You don't look good today," Elizabeth whispered, squeezing his side.

"I have a splitting headache," Darcy answered. His eyes were glassier than usual. "I may need to lie down."

From a man like Darcy, an admission of needing to rest was worrying.

Elizabeth helped him do just that. She ignored how cold she was without his body against hers, but as she started tucking the blankets around him, he took hold of her hand.

"Stay."

She hesitated. She'd wanted to check up on the two unconscious people to ensure they still had pulses, to make sure that Kitty was warm and that someone was keeping an eye on the galley during the day, but if her presence helped Darcy feel warm enough to fall asleep, she couldn't deny him.

Elizabeth lay on top of him, just like on the previous night, but she felt more self-conscious doing it in the morning light. Darcy hummed, shutting his eyes and wrapping his arms around her, squeezing her.

Elizabeth hoped that they hadn't neglected anyone's injuries, but Charlotte – whose injury had, at first, appeared to be the worst – was out and about. William Collins probably had broken ribs and an arm, but Kitty seemed to have slapped all words out of him because he'd barely said a word after the first evening, and Darcy had attended to Lydia's skin gash on the previous day. Today, those with smaller injuries would have to wait.

The sickest of them all seemed to be Darcy himself. Elizabeth rubbed his side until he fell asleep. She listened to the other passengers argue and laugh and discuss issues. She was trying to figure out when it was safe to get up without waking Darcy when Kitty leaned closer and poked her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, red-faced. "I need your help."

Elizabeth slowly detangled herself from Darcy and tucked all the edges of his coat and blankets around him. He shifted but did not wake up, and she took one blanket around herself.

Kitty walked away from the others, next to the tarp in front of the plane, and shut her eyes. She was blushing.

"Are you okay?"

"I, um," she stuttered, her voice so silent Elizabeth had to lean closer to hear her. "I think I started my, uh, period."

Her face got redder, and Elizabeth wrapped her in her arms. "Oh my God. You poor thing. Is it your first?"

Kitty nodded. Her voice was muffled against Elizabeth's blanket. "That's why I – my mom gave me a pad so that I would be prepared but I seem to have lost it. I asked Mary but she said she's too old although I don't know what that means. She told me to ask you. I didn't find anything anywhere else even though I remember seeing stuff like that –"

"I have some."

Kitty relaxed, shifting away. "I, uh, probably need it now."

"Of course," Elizabeth replied. "Come with me. I always keep a few spare pairs of clean underwear in my cabin luggage in case my check-in gets lost. They won't fit perfectly but – would you like a pair?"

Kitty crushed her in a hug. "Please."

Elizabeth rubbed her back before she took out her backup underwear, three pads and a small pack of tampons. She recognised Kitty's discomfort and slid them in her pocket without anyone noticing.

"Do you know what to do?"

"I think so."

Elizabeth kept watch behind the lavatory before Kitty reappeared, blushing furiously.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Of course," Elizabeth replied. "Let's go find some more for you."

"Oh, I don't… I don't want to tell anyone."

"I'll pretend it's for me."

Elizabeth could only think of two other women young enough to need feminine hygiene products – Charlotte and Lydia. Charlotte, however, had had a hysterectomy five years prior, and that left only Lydia. She was sitting by the window, whispering with Wickham, and Elizabeth cleared her throat beside them.

"Lydia, a word?"

She turned her head, not moving. "Yeah?"

Elizabeth leaned against the seat in front of them. She'd wanted to ask for pads, but Lydia's attitude made her reconsider.

"Do you have tampons?"

"Oh my God." Lydia sprung up, whispering, "Can't you say that any louder?"

Elizabeth looked at Wickham. "I'd be worried if a man in his thirties doesn't know what they're for."

Lydia avoided Wickham's eyes as she took her suitcase to the space by the galley and unzipped it, failing to hide her extensive collection of hygiene products. Kitty, recognising hers, snatched it away with embarrassed but wide eyes.

"Christ, Lydia, did you collect them all?"

"I wanted to be prepared."

"When's your period due?"

"Three weeks."

"I'm sorry to tell you but, if we're still here in three weeks, you're very likely to skip your period, so we'd appreciate it if you shared what you have with us."

Lydia reluctantly gave each of them two pads.

"Lydia." Elizabeth sighed. "You have three packs. I'm not telling you that you shouldn't keep some for yourself for later, but some of us are in need of them now."

Lydia agreed to divide a pack between the three of them, leaving the rest for later, which gave both Elizabeth and Kitty 8 pads. Kitty blushed to the roots of her hair, hiding them in her pockets, but Elizabeth held hers in her hand. She did not care who saw.

"Thank you, Lydia," Elizabeth said. "It's kind of you to share."

Lydia gave her a look that said she'd rather not, but she was outnumbered and too embarrassed by the topic to cause ruckus even if she felt that her finding and hoarding the products gave her full ownership of them. When she'd zipped up her suitcase and returned to her seat, Elizabeth put an arm over Kitty's shoulders, squeezing Kitty against her.

"I'm sorry it had to happen here," she said. "If we were anywhere else, I'd get you a hot bottle and your favourite cake and commiserate over being a woman, but none of it is possible now. Are you in a lot of pain?"

"No," Kitty replied, clearing her throat. "I'm quite okay, I think."

"Are you warm?"

"I am." Kitty looked around, seeing if anyone was paying them any attention, and hesitated. "I couldn't help but overhear, yesterday… you are not married to Doctor Darcy after all, are you?"

"I am not," Elizabeth admitted, quietly.

"Why did you lie?"

Elizabeth, eyeing the back of Wickham's head, tilted her head toward him. "I thought it'd keep me safer."

Kitty looked at where Elizabeth was pointing. "Yeah, he gives me the creeps."

"Did he –?"

"No, no," Kitty replied. "My mom always said to trust your instincts about people and I told Mary not to leave me alone with him."

"Good. I'll keep an eye on you, too."

Kitty smiled.

"Are you – were you together once, with Doctor Darcy?"

"A few years ago," Elizabeth admitted.

"But you still love each other."

Elizabeth gave Kitty a sad smile, trying to figure out if she was ready to admit the depth of her feelings, still, almost two years later, or how terrified she was that Darcy had moved on.

"It's complicated."

"Is he a jealous man?" Kitty asked, with the simple curiosity of a smart teenager.

"I don't know."

Of course, Darcy had been livid when he'd thought that Elizabeth had cheated on him, but she did not know if that applied in everyday situations. She hadn't had many opportunities to observe him in situations that would've called for the emotion.

"My dad always says that there's nobody more jealous than a man in love."

Elizabeth's smile was sad.

"Even if your father is right, I can't know that Darcy is."

Kitty turned to hug her. "Thank you for your help. I won't tell anyone, I promise."

Elizabeth wasn't even sure if it mattered if people thought she was married or not, but still, she nodded.

"Mary promised to show me how to make a braid with four strings, so I'll go find her again."

Elizabeth watched as Kitty left, wondering if she would've been the kind of happy, hopeful kid and teenager had she felt the support of her family behind her efforts to prove herself – had she felt like she deserved to be loved, flawed as she was. It was possible, and the thought made her feel both sad and hopeful. Maybe if she had kids one day, she could be the kind of mom to her kids she'd never had. Maybe she could meet Kitty's parents and let them know what a fantastic job they were doing.

Elizabeth put away her pads and checked the pulse of the two unconscious people, lying side-by-side. The woman with short hair and glasses no longer had a detectable heart beat. Elizabeth would have to ask someone to confirm, later, but it appeared that she had passed away.

The man with his leg cut off, however, had been showing signs of improvement, and his chest was rising and falling with each breath he took. Elizabeth tucked all the edges of the blanket around him and sat by his side, observing people. Roger came to sit beside her, and they made idle chit-chat before the man with his leg cut off moaned so loudly that half the airplane fell silent.

"Sir?"

When he didn't move, people went back to what they were doing, but a few minutes later, the man shifted in his spot. His face contorted in pain before he blinked, his eyes focusing on Elizabeth.

"Water," Elizabeth whispered to Roger. "Get him water."

The man kept blinking at Elizabeth, and she took hold of his hand. His grip was surprisingly strong for someone who'd been unconscious for more than a day.

"I'm Elizabeth," she said, hoping that the man understood her. "You were in a plane crash. There are seventeen survivors, counting you. How do you feel?"

The man let out a grunt, attempting to clear his throat. When Roger appeared with a bottle of water, the man gulped it down without a word. He let out a loud breath after he was done, handing back the empty bottle. His movements were slow and shaky.

"Dios mío that's cold," he said in a heavy Spanish accent. Elizabeth and Roger couldn't help but laugh.

The other survivors surrounded them, all except Dame Catherine de Bourgh and Darcy. The man became aware of the attention he'd gathered, his gaze sharpening as he looked at each individual face.

"Miguel," he said, staring at Elizabeth. "My husband, Miguel, where is he?" The man caught sight of something before his face lit up. "Ohh I see his blue coat –" His face fell as the crowd parted and his eyes landed on Lei, wearing a coat on top of his own jacket. "Why are you wearing my husband's coat? Where is he?!"

"Sir," Elizabeth said, reverting to the ma'am and sir that her mother had instilled in her. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am to tell you this but your husband passed away."

"No," the man said.

"I'm so sorry."

"You are mistaken," he said. "Miguel is strong. He was right here a moment ago –"

"You have been unconscious for more than a day, sir. I'm sorry."

The man looked around, helpless, willing anyone to contest Elizabeth's words but nobody did. Most averted their eyes, and the man took a sharp breath.

"Ni hablar que…" (No way that...)

Elizabeth locked eyes with the man, shaking her head. He took another sharp breath before he let out a wail, loud and piercing. He started shaking with sobs. Roger turned to the crowd.

"Let's give him some privacy."

Elizabeth started to get up but the man didn't let go of her hand, and so she sat next to him as he sobbed. She, too, got tears in her eyes, feeling for his loss. Elizabeth imagined the unimaginable – if Darcy had died outright, after the plane crash, how would she have coped? Would she have coped? To lose the love of your life, permanently, and to have to keep going, how was it even possible?

She sat patiently as the man cried. Charlotte delivered a sandwich to him, and Elizabeth took it without a word. After more than half an hour, the man calmed down, noticing, for the first time, that half of his leg was missing, but the pain didn't seem to faze him as much as the loss of his spouse. Elizabeth knew that the blood-soaked stump that was left of his leg needed Darcy's attention, but it would have to wait for now.

Trembling, the man made an attempt to wipe his tears.

"Samuel Forster." He took a sharp breath and let go of her hand. "People call me Sam."

"Hi Sam," Elizabeth said with a sad smile, stretching her fingers. His grip had made her palm numb.

He took deep, deliberate breaths, looking pale and weak as he started to calm down. "Fill me in on – what happened."

Elizabeth did her best, summarising the events of the past day while the man took in his surroundings. He unwrapped his sandwich and gulped it down almost in one go. When she'd told him about the food rationing, the weather and the lack of rescue, Samuel sat, staring in the direction of the galley. He was pale, incredibly so, but it was to be expected with blood loss like his.

"Did you –" He cleared his throat. "Did you access the check-in luggage? There could be a hatch in the galley."

"We checked. There's no hatch."

"Sometimes if airline companies buy airplanes they install a carpet on top of it," he continued. "Did you rip it off?"

"We did not." Elizabeth straightened, motioning for Orri to join her as she caught his eye. Having explained the situation, Orri walked over to Fatemeh, Charlotte, Mary and Roger, and together they started figuring out which tool would best remove the carpet.

"Did you send out radio signals so that our location is known?"

"We didn't know how and our phones died in the cold."

Samuel pressed his lips together, attempting to smile, but he grimaced instead. His grief was too new.

"Elizabeth, was it?"

"Yes."

"It's nice to meet you, Elizabeth," he said. "I'm Samuel Forster, a physics teacher and an amateur radio enthusiast."

Elizabeth stared, eyes filling with tears before she threw herself into his arms.

"You are Godsent," she whispered. "The man I love has pneumonia and it doesn't seem to be getting better. He needs medical attention yesterday. I will give you everything I have if you can help us reach anyone who will help us out of here."

Samuel awkwardly patted Elizabeth's back, his hands still shaking.

"Let's see what we have that I can work with."

"What do you need?"

The news of having a person who knew something about engineering with them was met with such enthusiasm that multiple people volunteered to have their rations halved if the rest could be given to Samuel Forster. The wind, also, was dying down again, and for the first time, forest, real forest, could be seen less than a hundred metres away from the plane. The only thing preventing Mary and Orri from leaving the plane to explore the surroundings was Dame Catherine de Bourgh.

"You cannot treat me like this," she huffed, too prideful to admit how correct Darcy had been about her feet – Dame Catherine could not walk without assistance.

"All we are asking is that you allow Mary and me to help you lie down elsewhere," Orri said. "We have no bad intentions."

"But I am warm here!"

"I'm glad but we'll help make you warm elsewhere."

"I am a national treasure!"

"You are a national treasure sitting directly above a possible hatch to access the check-in luggage," Roger replied, trying to take a calming breath. "We would all appreciate it if you would cooperate."

She was still grumbling when she finally allowed herself to be half-lifted and half-carried to a slightly different corner. Lei, Orri and Fatemeh continued ripping off the carpet until the silver edges of a small hatch appeared, no more than seventy five centimetres at its widest. Its edges didn't protrude from the floor, which was why they hadn't thought to check under the carpet.

Whoops, hugs and clapping surrounded Elizabeth, and Fatemeh fell in her arms as they hugged. Hope grew in Elizabeth's chest, and few faces were left untouched by the recovery.

Elizabeth peeked toward the seats to see if the noise had awoken Darcy but she was relieved that he did not move.

The hatch was not locked with a key, but the fit of it was so precise that Orri and Roger wrestled for more than fifteen minutes to open it. When they succeeded, cold air whooshed into the cabin from the dark underside of the galley. Nothing could be seen from the top even when Fatemeh put her face inside the compartment.

"Any volunteers?"

Kitty squeezed Elizabeth's elbow, eyes wide and terrified, and Elizabeth was ready to volunteer just to avoid Kitty's involvement (she was one of the lightest of them), but Lei took off his blue coat.

"I'll do it."

Lei's seven-year-old brother Yong looked at him with tears in his eyes, sitting by the hatch, but Lei spoke fast Mandarin to his brother, taking out his mother's necklace from his pocket before giving it to Yong. The boy calmed considerably.

Roger, Orri, Mary and Anna held on to Lei's legs as they lowered him into the hatch, first assessing its height to see if he could comfortably fit in the compartment below, but he was no further than waist deep before he tapped the underside of the plane floor.

"I can feel something," he said. "I think it might be a suitcase. Pull me up and I'll come in feet first."

They did as he said, and he climbed into the hatch, disappearing from view with a small groan. Yong tensed, sitting by the hatch, looking like he was ready to jump in after his brother.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth yelled, putting a hand on Yong's shoulder to prevent him from climbing in.

"Fine!" Lei answered. "It's not very high. I think I could climb out of here."

He shouted quick Mandarin to his brother, and Yong relaxed before scooting away from the hatch. Lei's face appeared as he stood neck-level with the floor of the plane. "Should I start handing you what I can find?"

"Please."

It took nearly an hour to get twenty seven suitcases or duffel bags out from under the plane. Lei could not be sure that he could feel them all. Two of them did not fit through the hatch, so he unzipped them and lifted the contents for Elizabeth, Orri and Roger to put on an empty seat.

They lifted Lei out of the compartment when he couldn't feel any other bags. Elizabeth and Anna shut the hatch to prevent any accidents and put a stop to the freezing draft the open compartment had caused. The cabin felt abuzz with excitement, and William Collins, Li, Wickham, Lydia, Kitty and Charlotte were already unzipping suitcases. Roger walked next to Wickham and Lydia, taking the suitcase next to the one they'd chosen.

The aisles were so full of suitcases it became a hurdle just to find space to open them, and Elizabeth shared instructions to collect all electronics in a galley box (or multiple) for Samuel.

"Any and all food items go in these two galley boxes." Roger pulled one from the shelves, handing it to Elizabeth, and gave the other one to Charlotte. "It is tempting to hide new food but please remember we are all in this together."

"Christmas," Yong said, tears in his eyes. It was the only English word he'd said so far, and Roger put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes," he replied quietly. "Christmas."

Elizabeth had to agree. It was surreal, and more than a few adults got misty-eyed when food was discovered. Elizabeth was hoping for warm clothes and more medicine, and they did find more of both – although no antibiotics that she was hoping for. A fight almost broke out between Lydia and Kitty when Kitty discovered skiing pants for women, but Kitty tore them from Lydia's hands and ran to Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth! I got pants for you!"

"Kitty," Elizabeth said, softly. "You found them. You can have them."

"No, you have the worst clothes of all of us. I will fight anyone who wants to take them from you. Please. We all see how freezing you are when Doctor Darcy is away from you."

Elizabeth hesitated, looking around, waiting for disapproval, but Anna pushed Elizabeth's arms closer to herself, nodding vehemently. Elizabeth's knees were numb from the cold. She pulled the pants over her jeans without taking off her shoes and almost cried at the difference in warmth. She hugged Kitty.

"Had I been born ten years earlier, I swear I would've fought for the position of your best friend."

Kitty grinned when she pulled back. "But I can have many best friends! Hannah would love you anyway. My grandpa lives in Bristol, so mom and I always come to England for the summer. Can we come visit you after we're rescued?"

"Of course, Kitty," Elizabeth whispered, daring to hope that they would, indeed, be rescued. "I would love that."

Elizabeth, feeling a bit paranoid, went to check on Darcy and found his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths, rumbling as he exhaled. She kissed his cheek and tucked the edges of his blanket tighter around him before joining the others.

"Bozhe moi," Anna exclaimed, having unzipped a suitcase, eyes wide. The entire bag was filled with dozens of packages of the white rabbit candy, seven rolls of Tianjin mahua and some crushed dragon's beard candy in cling wrap. Roger handed Anna a galley box, and she filled it to the brim with sweets. Hungry eyes followed the box as Roger put it away.

Anna opened one of the packages of the white rabbit candy and gave everyone two pieces. Moans accompanied their joy.

"Best fucking candy I've ever had," Charlotte said, and a few people laughed. Mary admonished her language, but her happiness prevented any real upset.

Elizabeth hid Darcy's pieces in her pocket, and Kitty ran to Samuel to give him his share. He had a desolate, faraway look about him, but he attempted a smile as he accepted them. Dame Catherine eyed Kitty as if the girl was offering her poison, but she did accept her share.

Almost four hundred passengers had boarded the plane, so most suitcases were not owned by the survivors, but Elizabeth noticed immediately when Lei had unzipped Darcy's suitcase. Impeccably folded expensive clothes in patterns that Elizabeth remembered were stored in packing cubes, and the see-through toiletry bag revealed the same deodorant and cologne he'd always used.

"Lei, do you mind if I take this one?" Elizabeth asked. "It's Darcy's."

"Sure. Looks boring anyway."

Lei and Yong rolled another suitcase to the aisle as Elizabeth crouched next to Darcy's. The excited, happy voices grew more distant around her as she reminisced, unzipping his toiletry bag and unscrewing his cologne, Reflection Man by Amouage. She'd never checked but it felt posh and expensive. It smelled like their evenings under his fairy lights, like laughter in each other's arms, and the scent gave rise to such strong feelings that Elizabeth held it against her chest in her closed palm for a few minutes, trying to keep herself grounded in the middle of it all.

Before this flight, she'd thought she was over him, but now… it was obvious that she never had been. If he so much as whispered the words, she'd be lost. Could she give him that kind of power again? They shared incredible chemistry, but could they – if they were rescued – figure out a way to move forward, together?

How would she move on if he already had?

Elizabeth brushed the silver lid against the skin on the inside of her forearm to feel the faintest, barely discernible scent if she pulled back her layers of sleeves. She returned the bottle to his toiletry bag.

Next to it, she found a familiar dark green box, and her heart almost skipped a beat.

One of her classmates at the University of East London, Lawrence Ntuli from South Africa, had been a talented metalsmith. He'd asked Elizabeth to take professional photos of his work for marketing purposes in exchange for creating something for her in return, and so she designed a bracelet for Darcy. Darcy was a tough man to buy gifts for – his wealthy background had ensured that he had expensive taste. He ironed his shirts, polished his shoes, and maintained his things in a way that Elizabeth had never been taught to do. Or maybe she'd never owned anything worth maintaining. Her stuff was cheap.

She knew the bracelet was a lost cause even as she designed it, but she hoped that, like most wealthy people, he'd at least appreciate the sentiment. She made it out of high-quality leather scraps meant for the landfill, and three evenly-spaced metal sheets joined the strings of leather. The first one she covered in dots for fairy lights. On the second one, she drew a table with two circles on either side of one end of it, and the last one she left empty except for three nicks on the side of it.

Elizabeth wanted Lawrence to carve a small heart and a "from Elizabeth" underneath one of the small metal plates. She envisioned the beautiful calligraphy he usually wrote, but he insisted that she give him her own handwriting. Lawrence felt that her handwriting made the bracelet real and personal. Elizabeth felt it would make their creation not live up to Darcy's high standards. As far as she knew, Darcy had never seen her near-indecipherable handwriting, and she felt incredibly self-conscious of it.

Other than his old watch, Darcy didn't wear jewellery, and Elizabeth expected him to politely thank her before hiding the bracelet in a drawer never to see the light of day again. It was all incredibly silly, and she knew that the chances of him ever wearing it were near-zero, just like the act of giving the gift was more for herself than for Darcy. She really had nobody but herself to blame if he hated it.

On the day when Elizabeth spontaneously decided she'd give the bracelet to Darcy, he met her at the Shadwell Station before kissing her and sliding her hand in his, casual and tender. She felt invincible. She had a caring, handsome boyfriend to hold her hand, and she held out the box in front of him as they walked. He hesitated.

"It's for you," Elizabeth said, nervous beyond what she was willing to admit even to herself. "I know you don't really – it's just a small thing. It's okay if you hate it."

Darcy stopped walking, pulling her close before he brushed his lips against hers, and she felt like she'd caught the loveliest man in the world. "Are you building a case against what a horrible boyfriend you have? I haven't bought anything for you yet."

"I didn't buy it."

His eyes softened. "You made it?"

Elizabeth explained how she'd had it made as Darcy took out the bracelet, observing it. It was an exceptional piece of jewellery, impeccably made in a way where he could replace the leather strings over time should he wish to.

"I don't quite understand. Dots, a quadrangle and a… what is that?"

"Dots for fairy lights, the quadrangle drawing for us at Bingley's table, and the three nicks for –"

"– the kids we'll have one day?" he finished, eyes soft but full of mirth, and Elizabeth hid her blush in his sleeve. Had she realised how literally the third one could be taken, she would've been mortified to add it to her design. They'd been together for a month and a half – the happiest month and a half in her life, but still, their relationship was budding. Even with their disagreements, their relationship was new and featherlight and made her feel like walking on air.

She avoided his eyes.

"Three nicks for our first agreement," she corrected quietly, mildly terrified that her bracelet implied they'd have kids together one day.

He pulled her against his chest.

"That's a shame," he whispered against her ear.

This man, truly, said things. It amazed her sometimes how unafraid he was to say things. Elizabeth grinned and kissed him before he held her against his side. They shifted to the edge of the sidewalk to allow others to pass, and he observed the bracelet, thinking.

"The arguments, the agreements, and the love in between?"

Elizabeth almost flew away at the affection in his eyes, and she knew, then, that's she'd fallen in love with him. Neither had said it, yet, but she knew, and his half-hooded, half-twinkling, tender gaze left her little doubt about his own feelings. She could've melted in his arms.

She really couldn't fathom how she'd caught a man like Darcy.

His interpretation was almost poetic in the depth it added to what had essentially begun as a silly bracelet, but she adored his view on it. How could it have been anything else? Bingley's dinner table for their arguments, three nicks for their first agreement, and the dots for the incredible love they shared under his fairy lights, eager and tender and bursting with love.

His entire expression turned incredibly tender when he found her heart and handwriting on the underside of one of the metal plates, and his eyes were full of affection when he lifted them.

"You could've been a doctor," he said, stifling a smile.

"What?"

"Based on your handwriting," he clarified. "Lucky for you, I could read Olmec hieroglyphs with what I have to decipher at work."

Elizabeth laughed, relieved that he didn't care. She'd never been complimented on her handwriting, but his unexpected lightheartedness about it made her feel precious.

Darcy held her against him as they walked to his studio in the warm summer sunset. He didn't let go of her bracelet. He unlocked his apartment before they put down their bags, and Elizabeth sat on his barstool, observing him. Darcy walked up to her and took her neck in his hands, his eyes tender and full of affection.

"This is the most incredible gift I've ever received," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. "I want to say that I'll never take it off, but I'm a surgeon. It'll come off every day. But I promise I'll always put it back on again."

She felt euphoric and charged and yet so content in his arms, and she wasn't sure if her eyes revealed her emotions in the same way that his did. He looked at her with such an adoring, affectionate gaze she was surprised she didn't just burst into flames in his arms.

Darcy kissed her before lifting her on the counter, and he groaned as she started unbuttoning his shirt. He smiled against her lips and picked her up before rounding the corner and setting her on his bed. She hadn't expected needing to feel him and be attached to him as much as possible, but she'd never been in love before. She felt feather-light, overwhelmed and a little bit exhausted, but he was right there with her, and she felt a connection she'd never dreamed of when they spent their nights naked in each other's arms under his fairy lights.

Elizabeth thought Darcy would've burnt her bracelet after their train-wreck of a break-up, but it looked like he might've kept it. She lifted the box, knowing it might've been filled with something else entirely – even his wedding band – but she found it empty. Could he have been wearing it, and if so, did that mean anything?

She'd just returned the box before a solid hand pressed against her back, and when she straightened, she met with Darcy's glassy, exhausted eyes. It was such a rush to have him with her that Elizabeth hugged him. She did not have words for how terrified she felt for his health.

"You must've been so cold," he said, voice full of rumble as he squeezed her back. "I'm sorry I was away from you."

"No, you need sleep."

It was as if two years ago had happened on another planet, that's how distant their nights in his apartment felt, and she didn't dare set her hopes so high that she couldn't move on with her life if his life now involved some high-class, educated woman who fit his life better than she ever had. The thought almost crippled her, but it was possible.

That was the trouble with surgeons. Darcy had told her enough stories of other surgeons and nurses losing their earrings, bracelets and wedding bands after misplacing them before surgery that Elizabeth couldn't be sure that the absence of a ring meant anything. She wanted it to mean that he was single, but her guess was as good as any, and even if she could detect the bracelet she'd given him on his arm, it might've not held the same kind of significance for him as it would've for her.

And yet, when he sat on the seat just behind her and opened his arms for her, she couldn't help but sink into him. He held her sideways, squeezing her close, and rested his chin against her shoulder, motioning at the aisle covered in suitcases and excitement.

"What happened?"

Elizabeth explained the consequences of Samuel Forster coming to, and Darcy listened, pressing a feather-light kiss against her shoulder.

"I know you're not in a good shape, but it would be good if you checked up on him before you go rest again."

"I will," he whispered. "Give me five minutes to get warm."

Elizabeth turned, just a bit, allowing him to squeeze her closer and hide his face in her scarf. She breathed him in, filled with hope so cautious she might as well have imagined it. There was so much to do, go outside to get to know their location, discuss and calculate new rations, pull on warmer layers of clothing after dividing them, and start helping Samuel Forster put together the transmitter he'd spoken about. Yet, in the midst of it, Elizabeth wished most of all that they could teleport into civilization and find a doctor for her doctor.

"Are you okay?" Darcy asked, his warm lips brushing against her cheek as he spoke, and she almost burst with renewed hope when he pulled back, his tired eyes full of concern.

"I am." Elizabeth touched his cheek with her gloved fingertips. "And you?"

"Better now," he whispered, attempting a smile. She was glad he didn't elaborate because she could hear how not okay he was with every breath he took.

"I like keeping you warm," he admitted, wrapping her up tightly in his arms.

"Me, too."

: :