Hello all! I hope you've all been doing well, are safe, healthy, and thriving. So I started this current thingy months ago, completely forgot about it, then spent most of today finishing/fixing it whilst successfully avoiding my responsibilities :) Sorry it's a bit of a rush job, but I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts and I am always open to constructive criticism!
24…25…ah 26, Lizzy counted grimly as she slowed to a stop in front of a large wooden door. Her last futile hope for an excuse to shirk human-decency-duties and not be here, dashed as she had unfortunately found the right room. She closed her eyes, shifting her weight from foot to foot and shaking her hands at her sides for a few moments as she deliberated her next moves. Finally, she solidified her stance, opened her eyes, and set her chin determinedly before she boldly shot her hand out, curled in a tight fist to knock on the door quickly before she lost her nerve.
She nervously pushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear and readjusted the straps of her bag on her shoulder as she waited for a response. Oh, why was she here? Why did Jane and Charlie have to choose today to drive out of state? Matter of fact, why did that…man…have to select today as the day to be propelled off his bicycle by a moving vehicle? Lizzy winced, okay so maybe that wasn't a very nice or fair or rational thing to be thinking, but it was just that she was very much not looking forward to this impending interaction.
She had been trying as much as possible to avoid him, going out of her way to do so at times, but it seemed that the universe just had to stick its foot out and trip her up. She had honestly just been doing her absolute best to keep things civil between them in the months leading up to Jane and Charlie's wedding. She was fairly certain that any potentially acceptable "passion" between the Maid of Honor and Best Man of a wedding ceremony was not supposed to be the kind preceded by "crimes of."
Things never stayed very cordial when they were within one another's vicinity, which did not exactly align with her sister's and his best friend's eternally positive vibes, so the best strategy she had come up with was simply to never see, talk to, or even about him. It had been working very well so far, very well that is, until today. It was then that she heard a faint "Come in," she let out a weary sigh, hanging her head, reached for the handle, and quickly twisted it open before she could think too much more about it.
What she found on the other side of the door was a sullen Fitzwilliam Darcy, who while appearing somewhat more disheveled than usual, looked no less haughty nor despicably handsome. His eyes met hers in the dimly lit room, one of his was rimmed with dark purple and he overall looked unimpressed. She grimaced, "Hey, Darcy. Sorry, Charlie and Jane are -"
His permanent scowl adorned his unfairly proportionate face and she had barely made it through the threshold before his deep voice demanded coldly, "What are you doing here?"
That stopped Lizzy in her tracks, "Uhh, pardon?" she asked cautiously, her hand still perched on the door handle. Sheesh, she thought, now this was a record, how had she already managed to arouse this level of hostility in him? It hadn't even been a full 30 seconds yet and she'd barely said anything!
She cast her eyes side to side, unsure of how to proceed, debating the merits of just moonwalking her way back out the door, down the hallway, to her car, and peeling away. Whilst she was deliberating, his accusatory voice sliced through her thoughts once more, "Why are you always, always here? Everywhere I go, every time I turn around, it's you, when I close my eyes, you, when I open them, there you are again! Why won't you just leave me be?!" he ended his tirade, his raised voice ricocheting off the drab walls and his shoulders heaving.
She remained stuck in her spot, as if someone had coated the threshold liberally in glue and she had stepped right into it, her eyes wide and shocked. His eyes were locked on hers, contempt evident, his jaw tight, and in the tense silence, she was able to take a closer look at him. She observed the dark circles under his eyes, his mussed hair, parts of it matted down with dried blood, the angry red scrapes over his left cheek. The exhaustion and pain apparent in his very posture, usually unfailingly rigid, but currently weak, his shoulders drooping.
The seconds ticked by as they regarded each other, she could watch the anger and frustration visibly leak out of his expression, his severe frown easing the longer he continued to stare at her, replaced with what resembled concern and tired contrition. He took a deep breath and seemed about ready to speak again, but just at that moment, a tiny blur of energy bustled past her, inadvertently nudging her further into the room.
"Alright, sir, it's time for your next dose of pain meds," Darcy's presumed nurse announced sunnily as she approached his bed. Even as she drew up next to him, his eyes hadn't yet left Lizzy. The nurse looked down at him and followed his eyeline, "Oh, hi hun! You must be the girlfriend?" she greeted enthusiastically.
Lizzy didn't allow any time to pass before responding immediately and maybe a little too loudly, "NO," she laughed awkwardly, "No, definitely not his girlfriend," she added clumsily. She looked over at Darcy, whose intense gaze was still on her, she darted her eyes away. She wished she could teleport herself out of this whole situation, she just didn't know how much more of this she could take. "Uhh, well it looks like you guys are busy, so I think I'll just-," Lizzy began as she subtly tried to retreat.
"No, no, not at all, this'll be real quick," the nurse waved away her concerns, cutting off her meager excuses. "Only thing is, sir," she said, addressing Darcy, "I'm going to have to put another IV line into your other arm right there," she explained as she poked a spot over his right forearm. This proclamation finally severed Darcy's heretofore uninterrupted stare, and his eyes shot to the nurse in alarm, his already pale skin blanching further.
"Uh, yes, no thank you," Darcy stammered in an uncharacteristically meek voice. The nurse laughed merrily, "Well, sir, while you are very polite, I'm afraid that wasn't a question. It looks like the doctors are going to have to surgically reduce your leg, so we have to get this done," she replied with an apologetic smile. With no further comments from a still-stunned Darcy, the nurse readjusted his blankets and called out, "Alright then, I'll be right back," as she swept out of the room.
Lizzy watched her zip away and take all semblance of cheer right out of the room with her. When she turned back to look at Darcy, he was once again staring right at her, his gaze inscrutable this time but undeniably less murder-y. He cleared his throat and repeated, "What are you doing here, Lizzy?" this time more calmly and at a normal volume, a supremely disorienting contrast in tone to his original response to her entrance into the room.
Ooookay, so it seemed like they were just going to pretend that the last 2 or so minutes had never occurred. Lizzy decided to tread carefully, she took a pause before speaking, double-checking in her head to ensure there were no potentially inflammatory words in her planned statement. She settled her gaze somewhere over his left shoulder as the aggressive amount of eye contact was becoming overwhelming, and said lightly, "I'm here to check on you. Charlie and Jane already left for their road trip, they got the call that you had-um-that-that you were here and turned around so they're already on their way back, but in the meantime, they sen- uh, let me know," she finished uncertainly.
Halfway through her speech, Darcy began shaking his head agitatedly and seemed to scoff. "They shouldn't have done that," he stated flatly.
"…shouldn't have…?" Lizzy trailed off in confusion.
"They shouldn't have turned around, and they most definitely shouldn't have called you," he muttered unequivocally, the emphasis on his last word unmistakable.
Lizzy was feeling inexplicably yet intensely embarrassed, she looked down to gather her wits, and was even more mortified to find her hands fidgeting with each other, clearly demonstrating her discomfort and mortification. Suddenly, Lizzy was irate, how dare this ungrateful man try to make me feel bad for doing the right thing, and how could I allow him – how could I give him the power to make me feel small for putting aside our differences and trying to help?
Lizzy straightened her shoulders, holding herself up higher and looked him directly in the eyes, "Listen, I know that we don't exactly get along, but I came here with good intentions. I thought that no one in your position would want to be in the hospital alone. But maybe I was wrong, maybe you're above all human vulnerability, if my presence here is so distasteful and my company would be so unbearable –"
At that, Darcy had the audacity to look stricken, his eyes wide and unguarded.
" – then fine! I understand, I wouldn't want to stay somewhere I'm not wanted. So, I'll just leave you to it, then. Get better soon or whatever," she finished off her rebuke a little less unaffectedly and little more bitterly than she had planned. But she didn't stop to ruminate on this, she readjusted her bag on her shoulder roughly and turned on her heel, prepared to march out of the room in a huff.
However, her dramatic exit was obstructed by the nurse wheeling in what looked like a tray of supplies. Lizzy was forced to backpedal further into the room to avoid the collision. "Whoops! Almost got ya there, sweetheart," the nurse chirped genially. She completed her trek up to Darcy who was looking queasy at the sight of the various needles and array of other potentially pain-inducing items on the cart.
"Alright then, sir, you were a little out of it when your first line was put in earlier, so I'll just go through the process again before I start…" the nurse said and she began to explain but it was clear to Lizzy that even if Darcy was hearing the rapid-fire words, he was registering none of them.
At his undisguised petrified look, Lizzy felt some of her righteous fury begin to dissipate. She desperately clutched at the tendrils of rage that were lifting and withering away. She tried to turn away to leave but before she could, she caught another glimpse of him. The dread and terror she found there written in the strained lines of his face were so unlike his usually stoic, unperturbable, sometimes alarmingly composed self.
She stood there, facing the open door, her back to Darcy and the nurse, warring with herself. She for sure didn't want to stay and she was also pretty sure that he didn't want her here either, but she also couldn't in good conscience leave him here, in pain, afraid, and about to go into surgery all by himself. But he was mean! And rude! And she could think of like at least a million other things she would rather do today. But she also knew she wouldn't be able to enjoy doing any of those things without flashes of that last image of his face popping up in her mind the whole day like some sort of guilt montage.
She (mostly) internally groaned in defeat before lifting her head, swiveling back around, and walking towards the left side of Darcy's hospital bed. She slipped the strap of her bag off her shoulder before plopping herself down in the chair available there with an aggrieved sigh. At this point, the nurse had just about wrapped up her spiel and was reaching for the alcohol pads, ready to begin prepping the area on Darcy's right arm.
Darcy was looking rather spectral in color, seemingly frozen in panic. He hadn't even noticed Lizzy's presence to his left, his attention solely focused on the nurse's every move. When the prep was complete and the nurse prepared to insert the needle, Darcy's breathing became notably louder and frenzied, and he screwed his eyes shut tight, his entire body tense.
Again, this spoke to Lizzy's pesky compassion, and against her judgment, she haltingly reached for Darcy's left hand that was resting against the mattress, closed tightly in a fist. She had only lightly brushed her fingers over the back of his hand, but at her touch, his hand jerked, his eyes shot open, and his head turned to look down at his left hand. Taking this as a sign of repulsion, she sheepishly removed her hand from his, feeling stupid all over again for thinking that he wouldn't be disgusted by any form of comfort from her.
However, before she could move very far, she felt something catch her hand and hold onto it tightly. She glanced at her hand and found it swallowed within Darcy's secure, somewhat clammy grasp. She looked up in surprise and met his eyes for a brief moment, fear mingled with some other indiscernible emotion swimming in their gray depths, before he shut his eyes again.
As the nurse proceeded with placing the IV line and Darcy visibly did his best to react as little as possible, Lizzy gently placed her other hand over the back of his so that his hand was enclosed within both of hers, trying to confer support through the tangle of their fingers.
He flinched a little throughout the procedure and Lizzy could feel the distress he was experiencing in the strength of his grip, but overall, the whole thing was completed within minutes and without incident. Once finished, the nurse backed away and started snapping her gloves off, "All done! See that wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked, turning away to set the cart to rights so she couldn't see Darcy's almost comically relieved expression, too drained to respond with anything more than a feeble, noncommittal hum as each of his muscles individually began to relax.
"Okay, I'll be back when it's time to take you down to the OR. Until then, try your best to rest," the nurse informed him, rolling her cart back out the door and leaving once more.
A few moments of silence only broken by Darcy's gradually slowing breaths ensued.
His color was coming back, and his eyes were only lightly closed rather than clamped tightly shut as he calmed himself.
Eventually, after a few minutes, he opened his eyes and glanced towards Lizzy. He looked at her wordlessly for several moments, his angle in the bed necessitating that he look at her from under his lashes. "How are you feeling?" Lizzy asked somewhat uneasily. Now that the threat of death was no longer looming over him, would their temporarily forgotten enmity suddenly return in full force?
After another very long, bordering on awkward pause, in which Darcy continued to stare at her in a way that filled Lizzy with the unignorable need to look away, the silence was broken. "Thank you," he said, and a bit more softly, "…and I'm sorry."
Lizzy found herself without an adequate response. She had never found herself in this position with Darcy. He was…apologizing? "Uh, that's okay, Darcy. No worries," she said in a stilted voice. It was then that she looked down and noticed that his left hand was still encased within both of hers.
She went to remove them, but his grip tightened again, her right hand slipped free, but her left hand was still held captive. She glanced up, her eyebrows knitted in confusion, only to find Darcy looking right back at her. His eyes seemed somewhat hazy and soft, his forehead relaxed and unfurrowed, so completely different from his usual sharp glances and stern frowns. She looked at him questioningly, unsure what this unfamiliar expression meant.
"What?" she finally blurted out, growing self-conscious after one second too many of his prolonged, silent, close observation.
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It's just…good to see you in person, it's been a while," he finished lightly, his expression not changing, as if that wasn't the last thing Lizzy would have expected to hear from him.
Now just what was she supposed to do with that? Why would he say something like that? And so earnestly, too? If she didn't know better, she might almost believe him.
It was her turn to scoff, "Right," she said, rolling her eyes.
Darcy had the audacity to look bemused at her display of disbelief, and so Lizzy elaborated, answering the question he hadn't spoken aloud, "Really? You really expect me to believe that?" she asked incredulously. "You of all people, and especially now, right after you practically tore my head off for coming here to see you?"
At that, Darcy opened his mouth as if to refute, "I- "
But Lizzy cut him off, raising her voice slightly, "Not to mention that every interaction we have ever had thus far has ended in muskets at dawn, you can't stand to even be in the same room as me, you think I'm ugly, you believe that me and my entire family are beneath you, and – oh yeah, the fact that you quite literally hate me," she spit out heatedly, as if she was counting the reasons down on her fingers.
The air in the room abruptly seemed to be more still in the wake of her unintentional fit of anger. And again, Lizzy was embarrassed. She had experienced more emotions in the last 15-20 minutes or so than she had in the past month, and she was suddenly exhausted. She hung her head, ugh, she was yelling at a man in a hospital bed who was about to go into surgery. She thought that it was probably time for her to take her leave.
As she had spoken, Darcy's briefly relaxed brow began to revert back into its typically creased form and he was frowning again and watching her solemnly but before he could say anything, she completed her thought, "Anyway, it looks like the pain meds are obviously kicking in, so I think it's time I stepped out," she said as she began to rise from the chair.
Again, though, her movement was halted by Darcy's hand tightening around hers. He looked at her with an expression of consternation now, as if she had upset him somehow. "You're wrong," he said.
"I'm wrong?" she asked.
"You're wrong," he confirmed.
"What am I wrong about?" she asked.
"I don't hate you," he stated solemnly.
Lizzy had to fight the urge to roll her eyes again, "Alright then, you strongly dislike me. My bad," she said sarcastically, recommencing her attempts at leaving.
"No," he replied simply while stopping her again.
"No?" she parroted back.
"No," he insisted, a note of frustration beginning to enter his voice. "I don't hate you and I don't dislike you. I meant what I said, it's nice to see you. I've-," he stuttered there, "I mean, you've been missed and Jane and Charlie's gatherings," he said looking down and away.
"I've been…missed," she repeated dumbly. It almost sounded like he was trying to say that he- but no, that couldn't be right.
He exhaled sharply, looking annoyed, but with himself. "By me, I mean. You've been missed by me. I've missed you," he rephrased as if to make his meaning absolutely clear.
He seemed uncomfortable, but he kept his eyes on her and was able to read the bewilderment written all over her face.
He repeated a little more softly, "I don't dislike you, Lizzy. I never have. That couldn't be further from the truth."
He looked down briefly at their hands still linked together and adjusted his grasp before looking back at her and stating gently, but firmly, "I'm sorry that I've made you feel so badly but allow me to make it clear that while I might feel many things for you, hate is not one of them. I don't think you or your family are beneath me, every time you walk into a room that I happen to be in, it is a decidedly good thing, and- " here he paused, "You are beautiful. You are always beautiful. I'm sorry if I have ever made you think otherwise," he completed his statement with finality.
Lizzy could do nothing other than sit there and wonder whether the past few minutes were all part of some weird dream that her sadistic subconscious had conjured up.
Darcy did not break their mutual gaze, his eyes sincere, contrite, and somewhat sad.
At that moment, a knock came at the door and nurse and a man the nurse introduced as one of the transport personnel entered the room. They were talking, but Lizzy was numb to it all, still trying to process Darcy's speech. In the background, Lizzy distantly noted them unhooking Darcy from the wall and transferring the bag of fluids onto his bed, preparing for him to leave the room, but she could not look away from Darcy.
It was only when they gave the initial push of Darcy's bed, and the force caused their fingers to begin to slip away from one another that the spell was broken. Lizzy came back to herself and removed her hand fully from his, her own hand feeling cold and bereft. She lifted her eyes to Darcy's, still shaken, and asked with a crooked, tentative smile, "I'll see you after?"
He, on the other hand, smiled broadly, his expression melting into pure warmth and hope that contrasted sharply with their dismal surroundings, and nodded in assent, "I look forward to it," he replied as they wheeled him away.