A.N.: I'm sorry this took me so long. I've just been juggling way too much lately. Without further ado, I hope it was worth waiting for.

An you find it disappointing, go to; content yourself.

Eight days had passed since the destruction of the bridge, and Mr. Darcy had not stirred.

With a solemn shake of his head, the physician stepped back from the still body, saying, "He is gone."

Elizabeth's fingers flew, seeking confirmation, to the pulse of the man she loved, and after a moment that could not be bounded in eternity, she cried in outrage, "His heart yet beats! He lives!"

"More than a week he has lain growing stiff, as pale as death itself. If ever he do rise, which is more doubtful than what follows, it can only be as one of the living dead."

Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to gut the supercilious old fool where he stood, and indeed, her hand moved to rest on the handle of her blade, but she restrained herself. Such an act would not weigh heavily on her conscience, but it would do nothing to remedy the situation at hand.

Taking a deep breath and looking down at Mr. Darcy's too-still figure, inspiration struck Elizabeth in such a form as to make her lips quirk up into her first real smile - however wry - in eight days. Whipping out a phial from the place she knew it to be concealed, she removed the stopper and filled the air with carrion flies.

"Until these flies stop buzzing," she proclaimed with her jaw set in seriousness once more and a dangerous glint in her eyes, "He lives." She sat, then, at his bedside and, drawing her blades and laying them across her lap, glared up at the physician before continuing, "And I will answer any assay otherwise."

Henceforth, she seldom left her self-appointed post, and only when the Lady Catherine herself took up the watch.

All was timeless blackness.

Well, not quite all. Sometimes - oftimes - he thought he heard a woman's voice. He never could make out the words, but the tone sounded affectionate and reassuring, though worried.

He knew he only dreamed, however, because he recognized that voice: It was Miss Elizabeth Bennet's, and she could not be speaking to him - not with such tenderness, and not so often. Perhaps she had forgiven his rash and foolish actions, but that did not mean she would ever seek his company.

Still, real or imagined, the voice was a balm to his soul and sounded closer each time he heard it. Slowly, gradually, the darkness began to fade.

Finally, a day came on which the black sea smothering him melted away entirely, and he awoke. At his groan, the woman at his bedside turned sharply toward him, slowly coming into focus as he fixed his long closed eyes on her.

Silently reproving himself for his disappointment upon recognizing his aunt, Lady Catherine, he distracted himself by hoarsely asking, "What is that horrid buzzing?"

The woman smirked and told him.

The first time ELizabeth had occasion to speak with Mr. Darcy after he'd awakened from his lengthy unconsciousness, she wasn't sure what to do with herself.

"You look as though you are fully mended," she managed to say.

"I am, thank you. If it wasn't for you, I'd have surely perished. My aunt told me what you did for me. I owe you a great debt."

"No," she immediately protested, "If you speak of debts, I was only repaying mine for your saving my sister, Lydia."

"Ah," he said, hoping he hid the sinking of his heart well enough. "Was that the reason, then, that you defended me so?"

Elizabeth's heart quickened at the query. Did he hope for a different reason for her care? Could he still love her?

Haltingly, she answered, "Well...perhaps that was a part of it...but not all."

Her companion started, searching her eyes. Was it possible that she meant what he hoped? With a deep, fortifying breath, he began, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever."

Struggling for breath, Elizabeth kept silent rather than speak the wrong word, and he took it as permission to continue.

"You are the love of my life Elizabeth Bennet. So, I ask you now, half in anguish, half in hope: Will you do me the great great honor of taking me for your husband?"

"Yes."