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Elizabeth is visiting Darcy’s New York apartment in between her endless conferences, running in to give some documents from Charles and to say – well, an awkward Hi – when hell unravels.
It’s not that she hasn’t noticed the horrid weather – she is almost drenched when she finally reaches his apartment and apparently Charles office has some really good file folders, since the papers from him appear unscathed.
But her thoughts these days are either about applied linguistics methods, or the fact that she has once again to face the man she has so vehemently rejected only a couple of months ago – and maybe, just maybe since then she spent more nights dreaming about him than not.
So when she finally faces his door and gathers the courage to knock, and finally sees his unsure and – perhaps hopeful face, the weather is the farthest thing on her mind.
It is when they are finally settled, her – dried up, in some spare clothes from Georgiana – and him, in the kitchen, fetching them some hot tea, that she pays attention to the downpour outside.
The house is quite old, not at all what she expected; the windows are small, so she has to get up in order to take a good look outside. They are somewhere around fifteenth floor, the sixteenth, to be exact, not that she counted (she has counted, the elevators were out of order – and it seems she needs to update her fitness routine after all).
The wind is crazy – some trees in the alley bellow appear to be broken, the whole city almost dark, the wail of sirens below do nothing to calm her.
"Elizabeth?" Darcy’s voice pierces her thoughts and with a small smile, she accepts her cup of tea.
She sits on the couch with him, not too close, not too far away and looks around. His TV is on mute, but she can see the news ticker, something about the situation only getting worse.
"That’s quite a weather you got here. I know, you said the city was hectic, but like that?" she tries to lighten the mood, but sees the lines of worry on his face and stops.
"I’m sorry, Will…"
"Yes… no. It is just all lines went dead some time ago and.. whatever I do, I can’t contact Fitz or Georgie..."
"Oh, Will. I’m sure they’re alright, and the lines will be repaired in time. With such a weather, it is not unusual."
He agrees, but she sees that he is still on the edge.
"So… I thank you for the clothes and all, but I’m sure you’ve got a lot of work to do and I really should be going."
He looks at her as if she has gone mad.
"Outside! In such a weather? It is out of question, Elizabeth. You must stay here at least until the weather has calmed down a little."
Ah, there you go. William Darcy, commanding at his best.
"Will, I’m not sure that is the best solution..."
He starts and stays still for quite a while, silently looking at her. Then, as if deciding something, he gets up and starts pacing the room. After a couple of minutes, she can take it no more.
"Will, I am really sorry, but…"
"Is my society so reprehensible to you, then? So that you would better choose to risk your own health and safety than to spend another couple of hours with me?"
She stares at him. The wind hits the windows, hard, and his voice turns from wounded to pleading.
"I promise, in no way I will make your stay here uncomfortable, I will even lock myself in my office, just – just don’t go there yet."
"Will, that is not what I meant at all." She pauses, gathering the courage to finally say all that she has been thinking these last months. "Will, what I meant is – oh!"
That’s when the power goes down.
* * *
They manage to find some candles, since the daylight seems practically non-existent. She tries not to think too hard, whether he used them to woo some women here, in this apartment. She tries, but fails regardless.
She feels that he is closed off, not even looking at her, trying to fix up some things mechanically – and – and this is ridiculous! She just can’t go on with it.
"Will! Will! Please, stop." She waits patiently until he finally looks at her. "We really need to talk."
"We do." His reply is cold and short. In past, she would have dismissed it as rude, but now she knows him – knows him really well, and she knows he is hurt. And she just has to stop this.
"William, please." She takes a breath, averts her eyes and finally starts talking, spilling out the truth, not stopping, since she fears that her courage will fail her, should she even pause. No, she does not hate him. And, in no way she finds him reprehensible. It is her, really, who does not deserve his kindness. She so deeply regrets all her words, all her bitter accusations – she has thought about it for weeks – and she understands if he wants nothing to do with her – but she has thought, and thought – and understood – and, really, there is no way better to put it – she likes – she loves him.
"Dearest God!"
She finally dares to look at his face, but his eyes are focused somewhere behind, on the window, and she turns around – and
Dearest God, indeed.
She professed her love to him right before the apocalypse.
* * *
The soft light just barely reaches the bedroom walls, when Elizabeth opens her eyes, gasping in shock.
As the pieces of reality slowly return on their rightful places, she moans and turns around, nudging the other person underneath the covers.
"Lizzie… It’s… barely morning."
"It’s your fault, really." She cuddles closer to him, intertwining their legs and searching for his arms. "One simply doesn’t watch disaster movies right before midnight."
Darcy opens his eyes, sleepily.
"How bad was it, then?"
"Well..." She runs her fingers over his chest and he hums contently. "We were about to be crashed with a tsunami wave while being in your apartment. Oh, and I just managed to tell you that I love you, for the first time."
She raises her head to look at him and the tenderness in his eyes enthralls her. He softly kisses her head and runs fingers over her arms.
"I love you too, Lizzie," he whispers softly and there is nothing in the world she needs to hear more. "And also, you know, we would surely survive."
"Oh?"
"Yes, we would barricade the windows, burn Aunt Catherine’s collection of personal transformation self-help books and make love near the fire."
She giggles happily.
"Well, it’s such a shame then, that I missed such a continuation. I must surely get back to sleep."
He smiles at her suggestively.
"I think, my love, we may compromise on that."