What with one thing and another, it was several weeks before Darcy had the opportunity to see his good friend Bingley again. Getting fully back into his daily and weekly routines had taken more effort than Darcy had anticipated, largely because he was honestly making an attempt to be more careful with his health but also because the deal he was negotiating to purchase Blue Line was hitting more snags than he was accustomed to dealing with.

Apparently, his Second Sight knew a good deal when it saw one, for none of his previous acquisitions had ever been so hopelessly tangled up in last minute changes and unforeseen circumstances. There was something humorous in the idea, but Darcy was having a difficult time laughing at it or anything else, he was so filled with impatience and grim determination to finalize the deal and start the process of gently and invisibly guiding Elizabeth into her new position.

But his own trials of business and care for health aside, it was, oddly, Bingley who had seemed rather more difficult to get in touch with than was usual. He was often working, according to his assistant, Mr. Havers, who seemed to be about the only person in Bingley's life that Darcy could get in touch with, with any real regularity. Darcy had long encouraged his friend to get more involved in his own business, so he could hardly begrudge the other man's seemingly sudden passion for his work in publishing, but it did come at altogether inconvenient time.

Thinking of Bingley's continued attraction to Miss Marchrend and of that lady's interest in writing, Darcy wondered if this new fervor had anything to do with Bingley's attempts to woo and win her heart more fully. If so, he could only shake his head in bemusement that businessmen would, apparently, invariably turn to what they knew of communication and commerce and attempt to leverage everything they had to offer towards the goal of winning a woman's heart.

Well, and he would have bought several dozen businesses if he thought it would make Elizabeth look more favorably upon his suit.

It was with such thoughts running through his mind that he waited for Bingley in the restaurant that his friend had finally agreed to as a possible meeting place for lunch. Bingley was late, of course, but even that character flaw which had so often irked Darcy in the past was not enough, today, to wipe away the half smile that played on Darcy's lips every time he thought about casually bringing up the idea of the four of them going out together again.

Going out was not actually Darcy's idea of an ideal evening, but he wasn't sure yet if he dared to suggest the four of them meeting for dinner and drinks and conversation at his own home. While he was not at all averse to anyone knowing that he felt a very serious and warm regard for Elizabeth, he thought it might be too presumptuous of him to suggest so intimate a setting when he had not even had the chance to properly begin anew with her.

Glancing up at a flicker of movement seen from his peripheral vision, Darcy found his smile growing broader in welcome as he watched Charles Bingley enter the establishment. Standing, he caught the other man's attention and remained standing as his friend crossed the short distance.

"It's good to see you," Darcy began, holding out his hand for the other man to shake. It was, for him, rather effusive behavior and Bingley appeared to think so as well, coming to a halt a few paces away and eyeing Darcy with a look of sheer consternation.

"It's all well and good for you to be cheery," Bingley remarked in a low mutter, ignoring Darcy's proffered hand and sitting down in his chair with what almost seemed like angry impatience. "What do you want? Havers says you've been rather persistent."

Darcy slowly dropped his hand and knit his brows in confusion at Bingley's acid words and tone. Taking his own seat gingerly, he gave his friend a look of open confusion across the table.

"I, er, took the liberty of ordering you a drink," he said, gesturing at the glass that sat in front of the other man. "Perhaps I should have gotten something stronger for you. Whatever is the matter?"

"Whatever is the matter," Bingley mocked in a higher-pitched voice. "How can you sit across from me knowing full well that you used me for your own purposes and act so innocent? Or didn't it occur to you that you were trampling on my happiness?"

Confrontation in a boardroom was something to which Darcy was no stranger. He had even had his fair share of altercations on a more personal level, although usually with people he didn't much care for. But with Bingley, who was usually so sunny-tempered and full of careless insouciance, the shift in demeanor was as unexpected as it was out of character and Darcy found himself having no idea at all how to proceed.

He retreated into stiff formality, as was his usual wont when confronted with something he didn't quite know how to deal with.

"I'm afraid I haven't the slightest notion of what you might be speaking about."

Bingley opened his mouth, looking angry enough to fire off any of a dozen scathing retorts but was checked by the arrival of their waiter, who chose that moment to approach their table and ask whether the gentlemen had had an opportunity to decide what they wanted.

"I'll take your special," Darcy ordered at random, having no idea if the establishment even had such a thing. But the waiter merely nodded, scratched a note on his pad and turned with an air of expectation to Bingley, who looked rather strained but managed to put in his order for a bowl of soup and a shot of whiskey with something closer to his usual genial manner.

The waiter's eyebrows flickered slightly at the request for hard liquor, but he merely smiled and assured them that he would put their orders in immediately and then departed.

With the man out of the way, Darcy turned expectantly to Bingley who was now fidgeting slightly in his chair and looking everywhere but at Darcy. The interruption had managed to derail whatever it was he had worked himself up to say and if Darcy knew the other man at all, it would take some real provocation to get him started again.

Sighing to himself, he wondered if he should pursue the conversation or if he should change the subject and allow the entire thing to blow over. Bingley was the least capable person in the world of holding a grudge, no matter what the offense against him had been. Darcy had seen his friend forgive everything from unthinking slurs to deliberate malice, all with the same ease of temperament he had for everything under the sun.

At the same time, the fact that Bingley had gotten worked up as much as he had was an indication that something was seriously amiss. Bingley was many things, but he wasn't a man to see offense where none had been given. Therefore, it stood to reason that Darcy had offended his friend somehow, and he must have done something significantly terrible to provoke such a reaction.

It was true he could not begin to guess what the trespass might have been, but whatever it might be, surely it would be better to address it right away, rather than wait for Bingley's normal good humor to be restored.

Arriving at the conclusion of what he must do as a good friend, Darcy opened his mouth and picked up the tattered threads of the conversation, as though they had been having a calm discussion and he were eager to resume it.

"You were about to tell me what it is I have done to upset you," he said, still formal.

Bingley's blue eyes snapped up to meet Darcy's own dark gaze and there was more than just a hint of something sparking in their depths. But then his face seemed almost to fall into tired old lines, as though it were too much effort to display anything to the world other than a careworn and beaten down visage.

"It doesn't matter," he replied, in such a defeated tone that Darcy should not have recognized as belonging to his friend were he not a firsthand witness to it. "I wish you both all possible happiness."

For a moment, Darcy was again perfectly blank, hardly knowing what to make of a wish offered so unconvincingly and so out of the blue. Had Bingley somehow guessed about Elizabeth? Had Darcy let something slip about his Second Sight? Did Bingley, perhaps, know about Darcy's aim to purchase Blue Line and had put the pieces together? And even if any or all of these things could be right, why would Bingley sound so half hearted? Or why would he bring it up when Darcy was all but inviting him to detail his sins?

"I beg your pardon?" Darcy asked, hoping rather fervently that Bingley would provide clarification on any or all of the issues which had so immediately and thoroughly baffled him.

"Isn't that the customary thing?" Bingley inquired, a sharp edge to his voice. "When two people are going to wed, you offer your congratulations."

That had been no help, although matrimony was at least the actual topic of conversation.

"Bingley," he tried again, hesitated and then made a monumental effort to remain nothing more than politely puzzled when he was really wondering what the other man knew and how he knew it. Perhaps he had said something in the midst of his delirium? "Charles. You know that I have not announced any engagement. I am not even seeing anyone."

Although, I do hope to rectify that soon. Just as soon as I figure out what is going on here!

"Not yet," Bingley muttered sullenly, echoing Darcy's thoughts to an uncanny degree.

Perhaps the other man was mind-reading. It was hardly any more farfetched than Darcy's own strange Second Sight. But the fact still remained that even if Bingley did know Darcy's intentions towards Elizabeth, he had no reason at all to be upset about it, no matter how he had found out. Even if he felt some strange compunction to play the elder brother to Elizabeth since he was involved with Jane, surely he could have no real objection to Darcy's suit. They were friends, for God's sake!

"Even were I seeing someone seriously right now, I don't understand what bearing that would have on you, Old Man." Darcy aimed for a light tone, hoping that a jocular approach might be enough to shift the whole course of the strange and disjointed exchange.

"How can you sit there and say such a thing?" Bingley flared suddenly, raising his voice to a volume approaching a shout. His hands were clenched into fists on the table and he looked as though he might shoot to his feet at any moment, overturning chairs and tables in the process.

The almost violent manner was more startling than anything else that had preceded it, but even if the other man were to lash out, Darcy had no doubt in his own ability to overmatch Bingley's smaller, slighter frame. Besides, he was growing impatient with Bingley's unwillingness to communicate properly and so gently laid his own curled fists on the table in implicit threat.

"Quit dancing around the topic and just tell me what has gotten you into such a lather," Darcy commanded in a quiet voice. "For I cannot tell what damned idea you have gotten into your head, but I cannot see how any existing or future romantic concerns of mine are any business of yours, nor why you should be sniveling about them now."

Bingley was trembling by now, though whether from suppressed rage or some other strong emotion was unclear. When he finally looked Darcy in the eye again, his own blue eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You might have thought that she was nothing to me," he said, so quietly that Darcy had to lean forward across the table to catch the words. "You might have thought that if you just waited I would move on."

He sniffed loudly and swallowed hard before continuing.

"But she's different, Darcy! I love her! Really, love her." Each word was dropping with all the heavy weight of truth and passion, punctuated with small pauses as though the effort of getting them out were a physical exercise.

At the first mention of love, Darcy saw red. What business did Bingley have playing at wooing Jane when all the while he was lusting after her younger sister? He was so incensed, that he felt a violent and shocking sudden urge to punch Bingley and never stop beating him until the other man understood that Elizabeth was his.

He almost stood. Almost cocked back his arm and let it fly. But reason prevailed before he could begin either motion, and he calmed himself with a great deal of personal restraint.

Well, almost.

"Just who the devil are you talking about loving?" he demanded angrily, his own voice probably far too loud in the quiet restaurant. "It had better not be Elizabeth," he threatened.

"Elizabeth!" Bingley recoiled as though in repulsion or shock. "Why the deuce should I care about her when it's Jane I love?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy saw the waiter edging quietly away, whatever items he had on his tray deemed able to wait for another several minutes while this no doubt fascinating drama played out at the table.

The whole tableaux was so utterly ridiculous that, relieved of his instantaneous fury at the thought of Bingley paying court to Elizabeth, Darcy found himself suddenly shaking with quiet laughter. It originated from deep in his belly and the force of it caused his shoulders to nearly vibrate with the strain of not laughing aloud. He covered his eyes with one hand and turned his face down towards the table, trying with everything he had in him to restrain his mirth. Tears welled in his eyes and he let them fall, scarcely caring what people might make of that.

And then it was all too much and he let his laughter ring out, loud and full and free. He laughed until his sides ached, and he could feel the eyes of curious diners and wait staff upon him. He laughed until he realized that across from him sat Bingley, not understanding the joke and growing angrier by the second. He probably thought Darcy was laughing at him. In a way, Darcy supposed he was, but as he had no desire to wound his friend over whatever stupid misunderstanding had caused Bingley to think that Darcy desired Jane, he finally found the ability to quell his amusement.

"Bingley, you damned fool," he cried, still not altogether emotionally sober, "I don't want Jane. I want Elizabeth. I," he caught his breath and paused briefly, almost unable to believe that he was about to say it aloud. "I love Elizabeth."

Even if he lived to be one hundred, Darcy didn't think he would ever forget the comical range of emotions that warred for dominance on Bingley's face at that moment in time. His growing rage was subsumed by surprise, which then gave way to bewilderment and finally settled on some bizarre cross-breed of relief mixed with a dawning realization of horror.

"You don't want Jane?" Bingley echoed, the hopeful relief taking the upper hand, when at last it seemed that something needed to be said.

"No. Bingley! I could never try to take someone away from you. Whatever made you think I wanted to?"

At this, Bingley had the grace to look ashamed. "It was when you were sick," he muttered. "You said, and I quote, ''Lizbeth. Jane. My wife.'"

Startling back in surprise, Darcy asked the first thing that came to mind. "I did?"

"Yes," Bingley's voice held an edge of remembered grimness. "You can imagine how that sounded."

Darcy nodded, thinking of how he had felt only minutes before when he had thought that Bingley was professing his love for Elizabeth.

"I was sick," he said, by way of explanation. "Out of my mind with fever. I don't know why I would have said any such thing. But I am sorry for the distress it caused you. I would never..." he trailed off, not sure how to finish. He would never have said anything at all regarding marriage had he not been in the grip of a fever. He would never try to steal a woman from a man who was clearly besotted with her and she with him. He would never knowingly cause such pain to anyone, let alone his closest friend.

Bingley didn't seem to notice the unfinished thought. His face was buried in his hands and he was muttering something that sounded like, "Oh God, Jane! What have I done?"

Roused to instant concern, Darcy leaned forward again, signally to the lurking waiter as he did so to bring over the tray. He waited until the man had placed the whiskey and a small salad on the table and departed before pushing the shot towards Bingley asking, "What is it?"

Bingley looked up, his eyes reddened and wide with panic.

"I told Jane I didn't want to be with her anymore," he blurted. "We... we're not together now."

Sympathetic and feeling a guilty lance of relief go through him that Bingley was too wrapped up in this personal crisis to spend any time questioning him about his own embroilment with Elizabeth, Darcy nudged the shot a little closer and urged Bingley to tell him everything.

His friend did so without hesitation and, at the end of the recitation, turned a pleading gaze towards Darcy. "Do you think she can forgive me?" he asked. "Or have I ruined everything?"

Feeling unequal to the task of answering either of those questions and trying to suppress the selfish part of him that wondered how he was supposed to arrange more time with Elizabeth, Darcy only shook his head, saying sadly, "I have no idea, Old Man. But all you can do is to make things right. I mean, if you really love her."

"I do," Bingley answered fervently, looking around to find and signal the waiter. "You can't possibly understand how much I want to make things right."

Oh, thought Darcy, joining his friend in ordering another round of whiskey, you have no idea how much I understand.

Author's Notes:

First and foremost, thanks to everyone who reads and extra thanks to those who reviewed! If I couldn't PM you to send you a teaser, know that I wanted to. And to answer a general inquiry, I am hoping to get on a weekly posting schedule so look for updates every Tuesday and I'll do my very best to come through.

For the rest of this note, here's a TL;DR for the impatient: I have another story in the works and will be offering a teaser of that as a thank you for reviews of this chapter. For more details, read on…

The more I read FanFic, the more I think that many of the stories that I read should be published as straight up fiction. In many cases, I've read terrific original storylines with nothing whatsoever to do with the fandom, except that the same names are used. I would say I see this less often in JAFF than I do other places, but that's a little beside the point. I know it's easier to get an audience when there's already a fandom in place, so I genuinely do get the appeal.

I do it myself, of course. So many of you have called Suddenly I See unique, and it warms my heart, but it's also just a natural development of the fact that I didn't really set out to write this as a JAFF. It has always been its own story, and I just tweak things here or there to get close enough to canon to justify it to myself.

So, a confession. I am writing another story, entitled Teleporter. I'm up to my old tricks of naming my characters and places after those from P&P. The story isn't P&P at all, except that Darcy and Elizabeth don't really get on at first. And he's filthy rich.

And the point of this ramble? Well, I'm still working here and there on Teleporter, although I am trying to give SIS more of my real attention as I would like to wrap it up this year. I've been debating posting Teleporter as a JAFF, in the meantime, and have been considering some teasers to see what the fandom thinks.

Teleporter is similar to SIS, in that it could best be categorized as urban fantasy. There will be special powers. It's set in modern times, though, with references to real places. It's also geared towards a more mature audience with lots of swearing and, although I haven't gotten there yet, potential lemons.

All of which is to say, if you're interested in seeing Teleporter, let me know. And that will be the thank you I offer this week in lieu of a teaser from the next chapter of SIS.