We would appreciate it if you'd check out, yesterday

"He proposed?"

Jane nearly swerves into the side of the road. "No," I say. "He did not propose. I said that he might as well have proposed." I take a breath and glance at my sister who is driving with an expression of disbelief. "He told me that he loves me," I qualify.

"Will Darcy? He said that?"

I nod.

"And that's why you left?"

I laugh. "Oh if only. No. His declaration of undying love led to a massive and pretty ugly fight."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

We slip into silence, broken only by Jane muttering, "Will Darcy. Said that…wow…I…wow…"

I enjoy the silence for a few minutes, and then give in. "He emailed me this morning."

"And you read it?" she asks incredulously.

I shrug. "I was on a twenty-seven hour trip. You don't think I was reading anything I could get my hands on?"

"Most people in your situation would have slept Liz."

I shrug again. "I couldn't sleep."

She glances at me, shrewdly. "Have you slept since it happened?"

"Not exactly."

She shakes her head. "And they say I'm the sensitive one," she mutters. "So…was it a good email?"

I mull this over for a second. It was a very good email. It was honest. He told me everything. I guess he justified a lot of his actions. I rub my neck. "I think…it was a freaking annoying email."

"He was annoying?"

I smile, ruefully. "No. It was annoying because it turns out he's not such an ass."

Jane smiles to herself. "Really? Is someone warming to the boy who told her he loves her?"

I roll my eyes, and watch her for a second. "Hey," I start, carefully. "What happened with you?"

She bites her lip. "When I left?" she asks. "It's complicated." She says it as if it's final. I just need to know.

"Look, Will told me what he did," I begin. "It was one of the many points of contention in our fight."

Jane glances at me. "It wasn't his fault."

"Well, had he not interfered, you and Charles might actually be together now rather than dancing round the subject as you did for all those months."

"Maybe," she says quietly. She's silent for a few minutes. Finally she says, "he emailed me, you know."

"Will?"

"Charlie."

She glances at me. I guess all she sees is my expression of surprise. "Have you replied?"

She shakes her head. "No. I don't know how to."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "I think it was maybe a mistake."

"Going?"

"Everything."

I laugh quietly. "I really can't guess today." I sigh. "Why do you think that?"

She shrugs. "I should never have left. If I really loved him I would never have left."

That's what Will had said. Dammit.

Jane carries on. "And I should have realised that he was taking my opinions too easily. I guess it was just a big ego boost having such an important man think that you're important." Her voice cracks, and she wipes under an eye, sighing. "And if I found it all this hard, I should never have let him get so close to me. And maybe I should never have gone in the first place."

"OK, pull over" I say, and there is mercifully a well placed drive thru. I haven't eaten anything besides cookies and apples for a day, and so order myself a burger, and both of us coffee. Once settled in the corner of the grimy little car park with our food, I turn to Jane, offer her a few fries, and then take a deep breath.

"Look," I begin. "It was not a mistake. Any of it, all right?"

She looks a little bewildered.

"Of course you should have gone. It was an amazing experience. And it wasn't your fault that you didn't notice he was taking your opinions too readily. He should have been aware of that, not you. And maybe you shouldn't have left, but you said to me that you wouldn't be able to bear seeing him move on to someone else, which speaks to me of a very full heart, not some callous bimbo."

She bites her lip. "Really?"

I smile. "Yes. I think there was another point as well, but you get the gist. It was not a mistake, and you are not an idiot for doing what you did, all right?"

She smiles slowly. "OK." She steals a few more fries.

"Now let's get going. I have been travelling for over twenty-four hours, and am ready to get home."

She takes a sip of her coffee, and then passes it to me. "OK," she says again, and starts up the car.

"I'm comin' home now to southern air so sweet, and find my way back to Tennessee…"

"Well that's not Emerson."

I didn't even realise that I had spoken out loud, until Mary commented on it. Neither for that matter, had I realised that she was behind me. She grins, and then climbs up on the rail next to me.

"Out all night?"

She shrugs. "Some of it. I had promised someone that I'd take pictures in this frost, so I went and got up early and found some good spots."

"Who?"

"Just someone."

I narrow my eyes at her, but she's no Jane. In fact, she's much more like me. If she doesn't want to tell me, then she won't. Not like Jane. She's an easy nut to crack. We sit companionably in the frosty morning air, coats done up to our chins. My coffee sends plumes of steam into the air.

"Have you got much work at the moment?" I ask, "I mean, besides your mystery photographer."

She pulls a face at me, and steals my coffee. "A bit," she concedes after a sip. "I'm a bit tied up with helping Kit out at the infant school right now. You know, her monstrously complicated ideas for their nativity play."

"You're doing the scenery?"

"Among other things." She grins, and hands me back the coffee. "So what about you? What are you going to do now?"

I shrug. "Don't know. It's so close to Christmas, I think I may leave it a little while."

"It might be the last one we all get together."

I turn, horrified. "Oh, don't say that!" I say. "I can't bear to think of us all not here for Christmas. It would be awful."

Mary shrugs in reply. "It's going to happen eventually. I mean, last year Jane only got here for what, two days?"

I frown. It may be borderline sulking. "It was enough," I mutter.

"OK," she says consolingly, patting my knee. "You think that you little Martha Stewart."

"Hey, I'm not the artist here."

She grins. "I have strictly nothing to do with raffia, and do not possess a glue gun. You're the one who sat up last year stringing popcorn for five hours."

I attempt to continue sulking. It doesn't really work. "Well first, it was Kit's idea. I was just an enabler. And second, we were watching Christmas movies at the same time."

"I remember. Dad walked out of Emmett Otter's Jug Band Christmas."

"Yeah, philistine."

We share a grin and turn back to watch the sun struggle through the clouds, casting the fields into glittering expanses. We both sigh.

"Good to be home?" Mary asks.

"Yeah, surprisingly."

She grins again and jumps off the fence. "See you at breakfast" she says, and disappears up the stairs to her room which stretches the length of the bunk house attic.

I take a deep breath of the freezing clean air and smile. "It is good," I say to myself, and then finish my coffee.

Fr: joshlyman at whitehouse

To: williamdarcy at charlesbingley

Subject: Hey there

Hey,

Haven't heard from you for a while. I hope it's all going well. From the tracking polls, you guys appear to be doing well. Keep it up. It's all crazy here. The President appears to have only just realised that this is his last Christmas in the White House. He seems to feel the need to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. Anyway, he's accepting everything that gets offered to us, to our occasional detriment. We're working every hour that we have due to this. If it goes on much longer, Donna's going to have to step in and, I don't know, do something drastic.

Anyway, I got an email from Sam the other day. He appears to be doing all right. Ainsley too. It was an extraordinarily long email- even for Sam, but there was a snippet that I thought you'd like to see. I know how much Bingley has admired his writing in the past, so I thought he appreciate it too. So:

It will no doubt not surprise you to know that we've been keeping an eye, or maybe both, on the election. Only about seven months until the convention? We haven't got the tracking polls here, but it's looking pretty close in some areas. Dawn Lee has put up a good fight, although I'm not sure how much more she has in her, and Brand clearly was done a while ago. What do you think of Zimmerman? Ainsley has her opinions, you'll be shocked to hear. And of course, Charles Bingley. Tell Will if you like (I lost his email a while ago when my laptop crashed and wiped itself) that I think he is looking fantastic recently. He was starting to look exhausted, and these last few months he has bounced back. Had I still been running, I would have been incredibly nervous. His speeches as well; has he got someone new writing for him? They've changed slightly. They've suddenly got a better rhythm, although his writing still shows through, but it's good. Really good. Let Will know, will you? At this stage in the campaign, any positive feedback is always gratefully received. I remember you getting your pants in a bunch about this time before.

See. Good, right? Well, I hope you guys will take a break, however brief over Christmas. And try not to be too much of a spaz with your staff. According to Donna I was both distant and incoherent. It's a wonder any of them stayed.

Merry Christmas, from me and my girls. Oh, and the President. There, that's one less person to get round. He may be the President, but he's also a nudnik.

Josh

On his desk lies a printed copy of Lizzie's resignation, with What the hell happened? scrawled across the top. Will stares at the email for a second, before hurling his empty glass at the wall. He breathes heavily, then turns to see where the ice-cubes are melting amongst the shards of glass. Slowly, he heaves himself out of his chair, and goes in search of a dustpan.

Charlie Bingley cannot remember the last time he slept. He sits at his laptop in a comatose stupor, writing a line, reading it, then deleting it. Five mugs of cold coffee stand sentinel around his computer, each of a varying level of age and with varying amounts of scum on the surface. He leans back, just to let his neck crack out tensions, only to see Will, leaning in the doorway, looking just how he feels.

"When did we last sleep?"

Will raises one sardonic eyebrow. "Together? You don't want to check that there aren't any reporters lurking around here first before you out yourself?"

Charlie grimaces. A month ago they would have laughed about this. Now it seems to be a moment of light relief in the middle of a storm. Not a fun moment, but a moment nonetheless.

Will shrugs. "I don't know. I had Georgiana on the phone earlier, ordering me to lie down and rest."

"And did you?"

He shrugs again. "I lay down, but then all I could think about was schedules and maps and speeches, so I got up again."

"It's more restful working."

"Something like that."

An awkward silence hangs in the air. Charlie wants to ask about what happens. He also knows how terse Will has been since getting back from New York. The news of shattered glasses and scathing remarks has filtered through. "You've given everyone a few days of for Christmas?" he asks, picking up a cup of coffee, before eye the scum and putting it back.

"Yeah," says Will, lowering himself into a seat opposite. "Josh warned me to not be a total moron with them."

"You're going to break too?"

Will laughs a laugh totally devoid of any humour. "Oh, no."

Charlie smiles slightly. "Yeah."

"You should though."

Charlie raises an eyebrow. "Really? And when would we have time for every other freaking little..." He pauses, and breathes heavily. "Is it just me, or is this suddenly less enjoyable?"

"It's not you."

Silence hangs again.

"I miss her."

END OF PART I

Wow. I wasn't sure that we'd get here. Well done all. Now, don't get your pants in a bunch. This is a milestone, not a subtle way to tell you that I'm going on hiatus. With any luck, the next one will be up in a few days. That is, unless, I think of some hilarious one shot intermission for you. We shall see.

Thank you again for all the lovely reviews. I seriously appreciate them.