I've had writers block on all of my stories, but the idea for this chapter came to me last night. Hope you like it.

There is no Darcy internal argument, because this chapter mostly deals with Elizabeth.

The only thing that Elizabeth could feel grateful for, on the agonizingly slow walk home, was that when her party arrived, it was time for the gentlemen to take their leave. Both Darcy and Wickham were quick to say their goodbyes to her, bowing over her hand and holding it longer than was proper. Elizabeth was happy to see them go. Her feelings towards those gentleman, and theirs towards her, were far too confusing. She turned back to Collins and accepted his arm, almost gratefully. At least his aspersions towards her were very simple, though unwelcome.

As she got ready for bed, Elizabeth thought over her predicament. When she was younger, Elizabeth had often despaired over becoming an old maid. Whenever she had stood next to Jane, eyes seemed to gloss over her. She had never had any man attracted to her, or show her any kind of attention. Now, suddenly, she had three. Why was it that her suitors all appeared now? The most distressing part of this whole matter was that Elizabeth wasn't sure if she even liked any of her suitors. She sighed and her eyes drifted closed. These thoughts would have to wait until morning.

Elizabeth walked down the forest paths of her dream, smiling. She strolled down paths, not caring that she was hopelessly lost. As she paused to admire the nature around her, she spotted the figure of a man. Turning to face him in full, she recognized the man as Wickham. Wickham extended his arms in an obvious signal for her to run to him. When she failed to move, he advanced on her. Elizabeth stumbled backwards, her eyes never leaving his. Her backward progress stopped suddenly as she bumped into a solid object. Nervously she turned, and found herself looking into a very masculine chest. She swallowed the lump that had gathered in her throat and looked up. It was just as she feared. Mr. Darcy. She pushed away from his embrace, and began to run, though she was still unsure why these men frightened her. She grew more panicked as she spied the men everywhere she turned. Finally, she reached a fork in the path. On the left fork stood Wickham. On the right, Darcy. Both stared at her intently, frightening her all the more. She turned, planning to escape the way she had come, but her path of retreat was blocked by Mr. Collins. Collins wore a disgustingly smug grin, and smiled at her in a way he assumed was inviting. She shuddered. Trying once more to find a path of escape, Elizabeth turned around, examining her options.

The path behind Darcy showed elegant gardens, fountains, and buildings. Everything on that path screamed money. It looked inviting, but one look at Darcy made her forget all of that. He was staring at her with an unreadable expression. There was no smile or smirk. His whole body spoke of tension. Yet his eyes stared at her with an alarming intensity, which she could not make out. She thought she could see passion, and perhaps love? She shook her head to clear it and looked again, but this time she could not see love. Maybe she didn't want to.

The path that Wickham blocked was by far less extravagant. There were not great houses or grounds, and there was something different in the feeling of the place. It had something that Darcy's did not have, but whether that was bad or good, she could not say. Perhaps it was happiness? Elizabeth turned her eyes to the man and examined him. He had none of that frightening intensity that she found in Darcy. Wickham's manners were open and friendly. A large grin covered his features and he stood casually as though he were in his home, rather than the middle of the wood. Elizabeth sighed and turned away.

Next she examined Collins' path, not that she would ever chose it. She had been down that path before and she had no intention of doing it again. There was no pleasure to be found that way, especially not with Collins.

With her back to Wickham and Darcy, Elizabeth all but threw herself onto the ground, allowing herself the luxury of sobbing in her misery. Collins did nothing, but look on. Behind her, she could hear one of the men jeering at her, laughing at her pain, and humiliating her. The other gentleman swiftly wrapped his arms around her, soothing her. His thumb gently reached up and wiped away her tears, kissing her hair and whispering sweet nothings. She relaxed herself in his embrace and allowed him to calm her. When she could finally gain control of herself, she began to turn her head, hopping to see her savior. Her head turned and her eyes rested upon the face of….

Elizabeth woke with a start, gasping for breath. She bolted up and examined her surroundings. As she recognized the room she shared with her sister, Elizabeth allowed the tension to flow from her body. She glanced down at the still figure of her sister, fast asleep, dreaming pleasant dreams of the amiable and handsome owner of Netherfield.

The pale light of dawn filtered through the windows as Elizabeth got out of the bed, careful not to wake her sister. She made her way through the house and out the door, skipping breakfast completely.

As she walked, she felt more relaxed and could think on her dream. She figured it had come about from the stress of yesterday's walk. The part of the dream that really bothered her was the end reactions of the two gentlemen. One had jeered, but one had been compassionate, caring, loving. The dream had been trying to tell her something about the men, but she never got to see which man had held her so lovingly.

A horse whinny brought her back to the present. She turned to see one of the men from her dream riding towards her. He dismounted and bowed to her.

"Miss Bennet, it is rather early for a walk, is it not?"

"It is also early for a ride, is it not, Mr. Darcy?" Darcy smiled inwardly.

"I suppose it is. I found myself unable to sleep, this morning and decided a ride was in order."

"I confess to the same, only I chose to walk instead." Elizabeth began walking again and Darcy quickly fell into step beside her.

"Might I inquire as to your trouble sleeping this morning?" Please say you had the same trouble I did. Please tell me you were thinking of one whom you loved, preferably me.

"I had a nightmare that succeeded in removing all desire I had to sleep." A brief flicker of concern lighted in Darcy's eyes at this.

"I am sorry to hear that, Miss Bennet. Does it still trouble you?" Elizabeth blushed.

"Yes it does, but do not concern yourself. I shall forget it soon enough." Darcy looked at her, concern more evident now, but Elizabeth looked everywhere but at him.

"Would it help if you talked about it?" Darcy spoke quietly, not wanting to offend her by being to forward, but wishing to offer his help all the same.

"It might, perhaps I should tell Jane." Darcy started slightly as she misinterpreted what he had meant.

"I mean, would it help if you were to talk about it right now while it is still fresh in your mind?" Darcy also had a selfish reason for wanting to know her dream. He had an unpleasant feeling that he was a part of that dream. He wanted to be the subject of her dreams, just not her nightmares.

Elizabeth finally looked up at him and swallowed. There was no way she was ever going to tell him her dream.

"No!" She said with far more feeling than politeness. "It is a very private subject matter that I would not feel comfortable sharing with anyone other than Jane." Darcy sighed gently. He gave her a small smile.

"If that is your wish." They walked the rest of the way in silence, neither knowing what to say.

Sorry about the ending, but I couldn't think of anything else. This chapter is mainly dealing with Elizabeth's feelings. There will probably be more of these, because Elizabeth's feelings are one of the few uncertain ones, and also the most important. :-)