A/N: So remember that thing I said about 30 chapters… turns out I was wrong. Odds of completion in two more chapters are pretty much zero, especially with me being in an introspective mood. I am absolutely loving all the reviews and PMs, so keep them coming (my ego thanks you most profusely). I'll give a special prize of some kind for reviewer #500… maybe either a spoiler or a solemn promise to not give a spoiler. You decide.

I'm really astounded by this story. I started publishing 11 days ago with about 40k words, and it's been a bit of a wild ride to this point with some of the chapters being cripplingly painful to write, and some of them almost writing themselves. The last one was so easy Betsy could have written it.

The story is about 85k now, making it my second longest to date.

Let's see where it goes. Wade

I missed Fitzwilliam dreadfully, and he had only been gone a day. He wasn't even to Pemberley yet while I sat in my old room, watching Elizabeth sleep; or whatever it was she was doing. I even missed my other cousin Richard who had been dragged out of the house kicking and screaming to help Darcy with another crisis at Pemberley. Well, that was only about half right. The pale shadow of my cousin Darcy had dragged him out kicking and screaming and limping and cussing, but apparently Richard had left the army and was now to be some kind of land owner. That of course made no sense to me at all, but apparently Darcy was both determined to teach him what he knew, and prevent Richard from repeating his own mistakes with his lady love. Charlotte could still only barely stand being in the same house, let alone the same room. All the Bennet sisters clearly knew what was happening with him, but they had not shared it with me… apparently thinking I could not figure it out for myself… silly sisters.

My life had changed almost beyond recognition in the couple of months between the first time I ever thought I managed to make myself look pretty, and the day I was sitting there just wishing Elizabeth would wake up; as if my wishes piled on everyone else in Rosing's wishes would tip the scales in her favor. She was now Elizabeth or Lizzy to everyone, even those like me, who had never even had a proper conversation with her, and Betsy who had never even met her. Elizabeth had somehow rearranged all of our lives, without even knowing it. Some might look at our current situation and reckon that we all circled around Fitzwilliam like children around a Maypole, but it was really Elizabeth that was at the center of it all.

Fitzwilliam, my grim and taciturn cousin of the past twenty-odd years had turned into a thoughtful and loving cousin overnight somehow by Lizzy's magic, only to have it all snatched away a few hours later by a madman. How he managed to resist either killing the man or allowing Lydia or Richard to do so was beyond me, but in the end, I suppose it is one more thing to admire him for. Whatever Lizzy thinks, I had to believe if she actually wanted Mr. Collins dead, he would be dead already.

It was the worst winter in many decades I am told, and Pemberley was beset with a crisis requiring the master's efforts; much as it had the previous summer. In this case, he tried to explain it to me… something about a partially frozen stream backing up, then an ice dam breaking, and causing flooding and destruction among his tenants, but thankfully no deaths. It had even done considerable damage to Pemberley itself. He did his best to explain it in more detail, but since I dozed off a few minutes into it and woke up just as he finished, it may be possible I missed something important. It did not matter… he would be back and explain it again, but it sounded like it might be months… unless of course Lizzy woke up, in which case it would be as fast as a string of horses every 10 miles can carry a man.

I personally thought a proper crisis was just what Fitzwilliam needed, since he had spent the previous two months doing his best to kill himself sitting part of the time by my bed and the rest by Lizzy's, regardless of the fact that he had a half‑dozen sisters anxious to do the same. Mother finally threatened to stage two footmen at his bedroom door if he did not relent and sleep at least from dusk to dawn at least one night. He looked so desolate I thought Richard had the much better bargain, what with only being shot by one of his own men. Yes, he needed something he could do besides staring helplessly at someone he could not help.

In the couple of months my cousin was trying his best to insure that Lizzy woke up eventually to find his skeleton sitting beside her bed staring at her; I had turned from a pale, sickly and cross creature that was probably despised by everyone who came in contact me; into some kind of hero, all because I had acted when the time came to act. I was certainly not the woman I might eventually be, but I was a woman who could hold my head up in the world and consider myself worthy… at least, I would be once I could get across the hall from my room to Lizzy's without making two of my Bennet sisters practically carry me. Perhaps, I just missed Fitzwilliam because he did it so elegantly and all by himself.

The price for my status as a woman worthy of respect had been high, although I do not believe it was as dear for me as it was for Fitzwilliam. I spent three or four weeks in a long extended negotiation with the Grim Reaper, and we had apparently come to an understanding that our eventual debt was to be settled at a later date. I awoke on the fifth week to Fitzwilliam sitting in the chair beside my bed watching me; not at all certain that the god had not gotten the better of the deal. He would collect his due sooner or later, and in the meantime, his brother Lupe, God of Pain, Grief and Distress could have his own amusement. Fitzwilliam on the other hand was having his own negotiations with Amechania, goddess of helplessness… and I can assure you, nothing about being helpless suited Fitzwilliam Darcy in the least. I hope you will forgive the excessive mythological references. Mary is convinced Lizzy can hear us, so we have all been taking turns reading to her; and Fitzwilliam and Mary both insist that is her sort of entertainment. I cannot read without my eyes going cross, so I tell her stories of Fitzwilliam and Mother when we are alone.

Darcy seemed to both lose a bit of himself every day, and perhaps gain something as well. By the time mother went to the parsonage to either talk some sense into him, or more likely bludgeon him into submission; I believe he had already decided what must be done but was so addled from lack of sleep he just could not function properly. Mother had come back victorious, with Lizzy, a large collection of new sisters for Georgiana and I, and an exhausted nephew. He still had enough energy to carry me across the hall before supper, and sit holding my hand while we stared at Lizzy in consternation. It was there, sitting beside the woman that was obviously the only one he would ever truly love, that we had the very first proper conversation of our entire lives.

"Anne, I cannot even begin to express to you how proud I am of you. You have made me proud to be your cousin, and I hope you will allow me the privilege of being proud to be called your friend. I would beg to also be called your protector, but that seems backwards considering the history."

I just smiled at him. Nobody had ever really taken me seriously before, nor had I seen any of his sense of humor in some time.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam; I will be pleased to call you friend, but even more pleased when this woman wakes up and I can make you my brother."

It took him a minute in his addled state to work out that I was working on the basis of obscure and circular reasoning to claim a relationship that was almost entirely in his own mind. He was to be my sort-of adopted brother, and he just smiled as tears ran down his face.

We sat there in companionable silence, and I asked the awkward question that nobody seemed to be willing to ask.

"Fitzwilliam, how exactly is it that you plan to make her yours. From what I understand, I am not even certain she likes you, and her husband might well live years, while you need an heir very soon, and apparently so does her ancestral estate."

He may have been surprised at the depth of my knowledge of his affairs, but did not gainsay me any of my conclusions, so I continued.

"Collins has surprised us before. Had he killed one of us you would always have the noose as an option; but I cannot believe you will allow his murder regardless of how much he deserves it if we both survive."

He had finished his crying for the moment, but did not bother wiping his eyes, and replied.

"The problem of Collins is not my primary concern. All the Bennets I care about are not going anywhere, regardless of what their father may do, and I only care about Longbourn because Elizabeth cares."

I nodded in agreement, so he jumped to the only real topic he was truly interested in.

"I know not if or when I can win Elizabeth's affection. She did not despise me by the time we had the supper, but she did not precisely like me either. It is most confusing…"

"How so?"

"She quite detested me, with good reason I might add, right up to the time I became privy to her most private affairs through a combination of happenstance and ungentlemanly eavesdropping."

I gasped in surprise. I had not known this, nor did my sisters know it I was certain… nor would they… ever.

He continued, "She just wanted to get rid of me as expeditiously as possible. And yet, she somehow decided the best way to drive me from the county was to trust me with her confidences. Perhaps, she just needed someone completely disconnected; but in my dreams, I hope she recognized me for the man that would henceforth always be there for her; whether she ever accepted me or not."

He paused pensively and said, "She quite took me to task. Richard only thinks Charlotte can deliver a setdown. He has not the slightest idea. Nobody… and I mean nobody from parents to peers, has ever done that before. Even your mother berated me more out of form than true chastisement. Elizabeth was not afraid to tell me what was wrong with my character… in some detail, I might add."

I laughed at the image. I could well imagine it… well, actually I could not. It was just too much even for me, but I would take his word for it.

"She cannot complain about your treatment of her sisters. Nobody in the world could complain of that."

He just chuckled, and said, "Do not underestimate her. I fully expect to be thrashed within an inch of my life for officious interference in their lives."

I chuckled about that for a moment, and said, "I imagine you would be quite happy for her to open her mouth and tear your hair out with a setdown, would you not?"

He sat in complete silence for some minutes, before I realized he had simply fallen asleep sitting there beside me. I had no idea if that was just a trick to avoid answering the truly big question of how he would survive, even to himself; but I did not mind in the least. He had been running from me for years; now he was sleeping beside me, and I had to have a small chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation. I had begun to try to learn about Elizabeth through her sisters. The old Elizabeth, would have laughed at the absurdity. The damaged but formidable creature Collins had left behind would have locked herself behind an impenetrable wall that nobody could see through… with the apparent exception of my cousin whom she did not even like. I truly thought that if she would just wake up, we could heal her. I also thought that while I knew beyond doubt both Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam were too kind and honorable creatures to see to Mr. Collins own appointment with the reaper, I quite considered us good friends at this point, and reckoned the reaper might be amenable to persuasion from me. I am not my cousin.

He woke up a little bit later with an apology on his lips, but never actually got it out. He realized how poorly it might be received. It was then or perhaps when he carried me back to my own bed, and kissed me on the forehead before retiring to his own punishment in his own room and leaving me to the care of his new sisters, that I for the first time truly saw my cousin for what he was. He was not always the fine man who kissed me, but he would never be anything less again.

I can remember the next few days well. On Monday, the first of February, I was sitting with Lizzy and I thought I might have seen some slight movement in her. She had been lying there nearly dead the day Charlotte Lucas came into our lives, and nobody would lay claim to having seen the slightest sign of life beyond the reflexes we had to coax to get some soup down her. I held the sight to myself like a precious gift. I was not about to light the flame of hope and disappointment in my sister's breasts without more of a sign than that, but I would carry it myself.

She had been every bit as injured as myself and more, and like me had nearly succumbed to fever. In addition to the fever, her head had apparently had a blistering swelling puss-bucket of a wound that seemed likely to make her head explode. We would never know if all of her would come back; or if she would be in some way diminished. I was never entirely certain that all of my mind had returned. I was content with the part I had, as the parts of my conscience and memory that were gone were not terribly missed anyway. If my entire life started the moment I pushed Georgiana out of the way, I would be more than content; and if I was not as clever as I might once have been, I was still smarter than my lunkhead cousins.

Not much later, Charlotte came in and began her ministrations. We had been told to try to exercise Elizabeth's limbs to keep them from shrinking away to nothing, and we of course had to force broth and perhaps the occasional bit of soup down her throat. We could all see that the battle with Father Time could not possibly last much longer. She had not been large to start with, and every day she seemed to shrink a bit more, to where now her bones were staring to be alarmingly prominent. At least her head no longer seemed in danger of leaving her body, and we no longer had to contend with the leeches that had been used to clean the mess up; so that was something.

We all had promised to write to Fitzwilliam every single day without fail, so we started that very first day. Betsy could not even write her own name, but Charlotte showed her how it was done, and she did the best she could… while I saw Lydia and Mary eyeing her as they might a new kitten. The poor girl had no idea what she had stepped into, but even those two were probably an improvement over the farm.

Charlotte was a woman much like me. Tested, battered, bruised but resolute and determined to survive and thrive. I liked her very much, not the least because she was calling my cousin the colonel to task. She had only been in his company once since her arrival and had ignored him so studiously I thought he might explode. A few weeks with Darcy should give me time to work on her, but I had my own curiosity.

"Charlotte, do you mind if I talk to you while you do your work?"

I was anxious to do my part, but was still too weak to be of much use for anything more strenuous than watching her; and my own state was so precarious I doubted any particular five minutes went by without my mother or one of the sisters happening by the door to glance in. Jane and Mary had been reading my father's medical texts, and talking to anyone who would talk to her about recovery for both myself and Lizzy. Their combined wisdom had apparently come to the conclusion that the remedy was torture. She made me get up and try to walk, while she and Mary drug me up and down the corridors. She told me as soon as I managed to walk to the door of my own room, she would relent… lying, silly sisters.

"Of course, Anne"

I was treading very carefully, hoping that my invalid state must offer me some protection.

"Charlotte, you carry a heavy burden. Might you share it with someone? You have known the Bennets all your life so they could carry the office if you need someone familiar. You have known me for less than a fortnight, so I might do if you need someone… less… less… just, less. You know how we all feel about you, and I would do anything to lessen your burden, but I will not pry."

She, apparently unsatisfied with the completeness of my assertion added, "yet?"

I grinned, and agreed, "yet"

She looked at me carefully, and said, "My burden was lifted this morning, and I need nothing more at this time."

I grimaced painfully. Richard had a much higher hill to climb than I thought, but at least it was not self‑inflicted like my other cousin.

"Do you truly think my cousin is a bad man?"

She looked alarmed, and said the most surprising thing of the day.

"Of course not! He is probably a very good man. He may even be the best of men… somewhere inside… although he is annoying in the extreme, and…"

She just paused a moment in thought, then rather incongruously said, "I imagine he gave you the list?"

This brought a chuckle to both of us, and I said, "I suspect if I invaded his quarters I would find a framed copy of it on his wall."

She said, "Perhaps I was harsh with him, but I… I… I just cannot."

I thought I had made about as much progress as I was likely to for a day, and since she was right next to me rubbing Lizzy's right arm with some salve that was usually used on milk cows' udders, I pulled her down beside me and continued.

"Someday, dear sister. Not today. Probably not tomorrow or the next day; but one day you will be ready to share this thing you carry, and I will be there to listen."

She just nodded, then went back over to start on Elizabeth's left arm, while I curled up in the sofa, tucked a blanket around my chin and went to sleep.