A/N:

I wrote the beginning of this story a while ago - more than 5 months ago - and it was probably the one scene I really wanted to see between them because I wanted to understand why the wedge between Eliza and William exists at the start of the series. This story is unrelated to Good Will Scarlet, so it doesn't have Eliza meeting Will first, but rather Henry Scarlet meeting him. It is a bit angsty, with a different spin on how things may have unfolded between them (although what actually happened during their first kiss and its aftermath is still somewhat unknown at this time - perhaps not for long), but the feelings Eliza has after their kiss, I think, are very much in sync with what she tells William while he is unconscious in my story, A Second Shot.

Thank you for reading and for your lovely comments and reviews.

Part 1. Eliza

Eliza had been in the back garden of her home, when she saw William coming out the back door of the kitchen. She thought that rather peculiar since she hadn't expected to see him at the house until later that afternoon for his usual meeting with her father to discuss cases and also his progress toward becoming a police officer. When had he arrived at the Scarlet household? Why was he so early, and why did he have such a serious look on his face?

William usually had a ready smile for her whenever he appeared at the Scarlet home, and then his teasing of her would begin in earnest. Had she learned to serve tea yet? Had she burned the scones or left the cream out to curdle? - although he would know that Ivy would never allow any of these mishaps to occur. Still he loved to tease Eliza because he knew that she would much rather be reading a book on arsenic poisoning and the Marsh Test than learning to arrange flowers, sew and knit, cook and make a proper tea.

William had become her closest friend over the last two years, since her father had taken him under his wing. Found pickpocketing on the streets of east London, Henry had seen something in William that had made him hesitate to arrest him or, worse yet, leave him to continue living a hand-to-mouth existence on those dangerous, despair-filled streets. He had set William up in a boarding house with a room of his own, with a warm bed to sleep in, clean clothes to wear and a steady supply of food at his table - with the understanding that William, for his part of the deal, would give up his life of petty crime, stay off the streets and follow in Henry's footsteps of becoming a police officer.

When they had first met, Eliza thought him vaguely unsettling - who was this boy from the streets with the deep green eyes that were so clear and discerning, that her father had taken on as a protégé and sort of surrogate son? She wasn't quite sure how she felt about sharing her father's affections with this lanky boy of 17, with his dark curly hair and freckles scattered across his fair-skinned face. She soon found, however, that William provided her with something that no one, other than her father, had given her - and that was complete acceptance of Eliza as she was. He did not see her as the "motherless pig" that Arabella Herbert had said she was. She was just Eliza - clever, headstrong, challenging Eliza. He had quickly become her confidante, Eliza sharing with him her fears that her father was becoming more lonely as the years passed since her mother's death, and her dreams of wanting to become a police officer one day like her father and William. William had always been open and truthful with her about how the Victorian world outside her front door worked, although he had been careful not to share too much about the life he had left behind when he came under her father's tutelage. He had even taught her how to fight (although they both kept this secret from her father, as they were convinced Henry Scarlet would not approve). William had counseled her that while she should never instigate a fight with the mean girls at school, she should be able to defend herself if they tried to physically harm her again, and then she could give as good as she got.

Eliza, for her part, realized that there was so much more to William - an inner strength, a scrappiness coupled with an incredibly kind and tender heart - than she had first thought when they met. William was not, perhaps never had been, the "street urchin" she had imagined he was, and she was somewhat annoyed with herself for having prejudged him. If she was honest with herself, she had noticed over the last year that William was changing from a tall, somewhat gangly boy into a handsome young man, his frame broadening and filling out.

She also realized that she had started looking forward to William coming to the Scarlet house in a way different from before. There had always been an ease between them, but she had started to notice a tightness in her chest that came in the hours before he was due to arrive. She would often run to the door to be the first person to greet and welcome him into their home, the first to see those bright, clear green eyes impishly gazing back at her. His broad grin made her heart feel like it was being squeezed in her chest, and his charming manner seemed to promise that the day would be a good one for both her and her father.

But on this day, William's eyes were serious as he approached her, and she knew that he would not be teasing her. She wondered what it was that he was coming to tell her and why he seemed upset.

"Eliza, please come sit down with me at the table here in the garden. I have something that I need to tell you, and I think you would do better to be seated when you hear what I have to say."

"William, you are making me nervous. Surely whatever you have to tell me cannot be such terrible news that I need to be sitting down to receive it."

"Eliza, please, do as I ask. Please do not argue with me on this."

"William, I will stand for whatever it is that you have to tell me. And where is Father? Why is he not here with you?"

"Eliza, your father asked me to look after you while he takes care of ...a pressing matter at the moment. That being..." William paused. If she hadn't know him better, Eliza would almost think he couldn't bring himself to tell her whatever the news was. And by now she was beginning to understand that the news was not good.

"William, please just tell me whatever it is you have to say." She stood her ground and refused to sit down at the table while she watched him shift his weight on his feet and run a hand through his dark, tousled hair, then step closer to her. He lifted his hands to her elbows, holding them gently, while he looked into her eyes before speaking.

"Eliza - Skip got out of the house. He ran out of the yard through the side gate and into the street, where he was struck by a passing carriage. The driver of the carriage stopped to help, but nothing could be done for him. Skip died almost immediately. Your father asked that I tell you while he tends to Skip's burial."

"What are you talking about, William? Skip has never gotten out by the side gate. He was just in the back garden with me not 40 minutes ago while I was reading a book on poisons and their antidotes."

William moved closer to her, now holding her hands in his own. "There was a loose board in the fence by the side gate, and Skip was able to push his way past it and get out into the street. He's gone, Eliza. I'm sorry."

She knew William would never lie to her about something that would hurt her so deeply. Slowly she started to understand that her beloved Skip would no longer be running through the house or yard, or jumping up into her lap in the evenings after supper. Skip was irretrievably gone.

As William's words took hold of her, the tears welled up in her eyes, and as she raised her eyes to his, she felt the tears spill over onto her cheeks. She couldn't stop them from coming, and they fell more and more quickly. She covered her mouth to stifle the cry that threatened to escape from her.

"Eliza, I am so very sorry. I know this news is heartbreaking for you. Please don't cry." He pulled her close to him then and folded her into his arms, holding her tightly, while the tears continued to fall, and sobs racked her body. She placed her head against his chest, and she felt his warmth and his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek, his chin resting on the top of her head. She had never felt so comforted as she did then in his embrace, and slowly, her tears began to cease.

He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, as she pressed her face closer to his chest, and she felt him take a sharp breath in. Ever so gently, William moved his hands from around her shoulders up to her face to cradle it. Slowly he tilted her face up to his. She saw that his eyes were a luminescent green, as they peered deeply into hers. He was very close to her now, and Eliza had the distinct impression that he was wrestling with something in his mind and losing whatever battle he was fighting with himself. She felt his thumbs on her cheeks, as they gently wiped away her tears. His eyes moved down to her mouth, where he wiped a tear from her top lip with his thumb and traced the edge of it. She saw his eyes darken into two pools of jade, and instinctively she knew he was going to kiss her, but she could not bring herself to look away. She felt him wrap his arms around her waist and pull her close. She heard him whisper her name, "Eliza" just before his lips pressed gently against hers.

She felt how warm and soft his lips were, noticed how they tasted sweet and how they skillfully had started to move against her own, slowly at first and then with slightly more urgency. Her heart lurched against her ribs, and she placed her hands on his chest to steady herself. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel his heartbeat quicken and pound almost frantically. She could smell the fresh scent of his soap on his face and neck, and her senses were aflame with the taste, touch and scent of him. She moved her lips in response to his, pressing herself closer to him, curling her fingers into his shirt and tugging him still closer. She parted her lips for him, and their kiss deepened, each tasting and exploring the other eagerly and with increasing intensity. She felt she was drowning in his warmth, in the safety she felt in his arms and in his kiss. She had never felt so close to him. Then she heard what sounded like a low rumble in his throat.

"Eliza, I can't," as he gently pulled his lips away from hers. There was a raggedness to his voice that she had never heard before. His forehead was pressed to hers, and he was within a whisper's breath of her mouth, his eyes still closed.

"Your father..." and the words hung between them in a space which moments before had not been there. His eyes were dark when he opened them, and she saw them take in the fullness of her lips, which a moment before had been tasting his, teasing him. She brought her hand up to her lips and covered them where his lips had just been caressing hers.

She saw him step away from her and in that moment thought she saw him struggling to regain control of himself. But why had he pulled away? Was he rejecting her? William, who was her closest friend and in whom she had confided her dreams and her worries. William, who had just been passionately kissing her and then broken their kiss. She felt a surge of color rise in her cheeks, and she knew that part of what she felt was humiliation. But also something more - he had hurt her when he stepped back from their embrace. She felt an anger rise in her. How dare he?

"How dare you, William? How dare you take advantage of my sorrow? My father put you in charge of me, while he dealt with giving Skip a proper burial, and you take this opportunity to betray the trust he has placed in you!" And as those words tumbled out of her mouth, words that she knew were lies, she raised her hand and struck him across his face.

The sound was deafening, as she hit her mark. Her fingers stung from the force of the slap, and she saw the angry red mark spring up on William's cheek. She watched as William raised his hand to quickly cover his cheek and saw the utter astonishment in his face at what had just transpired between them. She saw the disbelief slowly turn to anger in those green eyes that she had always known how to read. She had always been able to tell what he was thinking, and at this moment she could see that he was struggling to control his temper. But there was also something else in his eyes that she had not seen before in all the days of their friendship. Was it anguish? Had she hurt him, as he had hurt her just now?

His hand came up from where it had hung at his side and stopped halfway, suspended in between them, as if he had thought to touch her arm but willed himself not to move toward her further. She saw a change come into his face, as if the twinkle that was always playing in his eyes when he was teasing and sparring with her had gone out of them. His eyes became clouded, murky, and she could no longer read his thoughts. It was as if a window had closed between them, and she did not know how to pull the window open again or even if it could be done. What she had done just now had pushed William even further away than his own steps and had resulted in this change in her dearest friend. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his, and yet the words would not come. She did not know what she could possibly say to undo what she had just done to William.

It was William who spoke into the silence between them, his voice strangely devoid of emotion. "Eliza, I'm very sorry about Skip. I know how important he was to you and how much you loved him. I..." He looked at her and paused, his eyes inscrutable. He sighed then, his usual exasperated sigh whenever she had aggravated him beyond what he could handle, but there was a weariness to it this time.

"I must go now. I am sure your father has finished tending to Skip's burial, and now I am probably late for my meeting with him this afternoon. Good day, Eliza."

As he turned to walk away from her, she thought she heard him say something under his breath - had he muttered the words "forgive me"? She couldn't know for certain, it had been so quietly spoken. William did not turn back to look at her as he walked away, as he usually did with a smile or a wave whenever they had previously parted. This time, his eyes were cast down, and he seemed defeated, his shoulders slightly stooped. She watched him enter the house through the back door and felt a sudden sharp pain in her chest, as if she had been punched hard, and the wind had been knocked out of her.

She knew something had changed between them in that moment when she had lied to him in order to cover her own humiliation and slapped his face. She had no cause to do such a thing to him, to physically hurt him, even if she feared he had been rejecting her, even if she felt he had hurt her first. She would apologize to him tomorrow when she had the chance. Surely, he would understand that she was overcome with emotion after the death of her beloved dog. Surely, he would know that she hadn't meant what she had said to him. And surely, he would accept her apology, and everything would go back to what it was before the day's events.

She ran into the house, looking over her shoulder again at the spot in the garden where William had comforted her and kissed her, then rejected her when all she had wanted was to be held closer to his warmth, to his beating heart. She hadn't wanted to let him go, but he had broken their kiss and stepped away from her. Why? Was it only because of her father? Or had he not felt what she had in the moment they had kissed?

Once inside the house, she climbed the stairs to her room, a weariness descending upon her. She felt a heaviness in her heart that would not leave her, and she knew it was going to be a difficult night to get through.