Surrender Is Not An Option
He hadn't wanted to come to the damn party anyway. Ben was going to be there and, quite frankly, he had never adjusted to the fact that Elizabeth seemed to get along famously with her ex. And, besides, what did he really know about Bill & Charlotte Lucas anyway? Their anniversary meant nothing to him and Elizabeth never seemed to mention them before a week ago, when she'd started badgering him to get his tux cleaned for the blasted event.
Now, he was standing on one side of an ostentatiously decorated ballroom, watching his wife laugh with her devilishly handsome ex fiancé as they danced liquidly across the dance floor. Ben Reynolds was in possession of that easy grace and charm that seemed impossible for William Darcy to master, even with his own wife.
He knew when they'd left the house tonight how it was going to end. Elizabeth, in a snit, would ignore him at the party and find Ben and flirt unashamedly with him. He'd been so stupid to tell her about Erin's attentions to him. He'd been even stupider admitting that he'd liked them.
It wasn't as if things had been easy for them lately. No, life in the Darcy household had been quite hard since Grace's accident. He'd always heard how hard it was to lose a child, but by god, he'd never realized that truer words were ever spoken.
It had affected them both, of course. He'd thrown himself into his work, drowning in acquisitions and things that seemed real, things he could touch and hold and that would last forever while Elizabeth had spent the first days pretending nothing, including William, existed outside of Grace's yellow bedroom. She'd spent hours in the room, clinging to Grace's favorite pillow and inhaling the scent of her lost daughter. Eventually, though, Elizabeth had emerged from the bedroom and moved on to pretending that nothing was wrong.
Apparently that meant ignoring what was wrong in their marriage too.
"Will, how are things going?" Jane asked. She put her hand on his arm, coaxing him back into the room with a single comforting touch.
He shrugged.
"Still bad at home?"
"Yes," was his simple reply. When he saw that she wasn't going to go away, he gave her a weak smile. "I've lost my daughter and my wife in the space of six months, Jane. It doesn't get good."
"I know you've tried talking till you're blue in the face, Will, but you can't think like that. She still loves you and she still needs you. Do you remember what you loved about her?"
Her smile, he thought. And her eyes.
"There was a time when I loved everything about her."
"You still do, I'd wager."
"Maybe."
"Have you shown her lately?"
"She doesn't let me get close enough."
Jane threw a glance over at her sister, still smiling warmly at Ben, though her eyes held none of the light that they used to. Gently, she patted her brother-in-law's arm, gave him an encouraging smile, and headed for Elizabeth.
"Ben, you don't mind if I steal her away for a moment, do you?"
"Absolutely not as long as you promise me a dance later, Jane."
She nodded and, taking Elizabeth by the elbow, guided her to a corner. Leveling a serious gaze at her, Jane shook her head.
"Oh, fuck," muttered Elizabeth, "Are you going to give me the speech about how poorly I'm behaving in public?"
"No, it's the your-poor-husband-is-at-his-wits-end-and-doesn't- know-what-to-do speech."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "He's been grousing about this party all week and he's just looking for a reason to make me mad. Not that I'm not already angry with him."
"Why are you angry with him? You don't ever speak to him, Lizzy."
The rage that always bubbled just below her surface started to come forward. Her husband had taken quite a few liberties of late by talking to her nosy older sister about their problems and she was tired of Jane butting in.
"Why should I speak to him? You seem quite willing to be there for him."
"You know it isn't like that," Jane whispered, her voice heavy with frustration. "He lost Grace too. Would you please try to remember that?"
Eyes flashing, Elizabeth stalked away from Jane. She spotted Darcy across the room and rushed him, even as he looked up, saw her, and tried to escape.
"Where do you get off using my sister as a go-between? Christ, can't you be a fucking man?" She said loudly enough for the people around them to hear.
He wasn't sure if it was pride or humiliation or just plain exhaustion, but something in him snapped at that moment. Something broke and told him that this was the night he would either end things with her or he would kill her. Either way, William was done. She wasn't going to have him to push around anymore.
But they would do it at home. He hadn't wanted to come to this stupid party anyway.
He grabbed Elizabeth's arm and dragged her, screaming, out to the car. Knowing that she would get out before he got in, he opened the driver's side, tossed her in, and locked the door locks into position before she could escape. Quickly, in the deadly silence of the car's cockpit, William drove the few miles back to their dark, empty house. Releasing the doors, Elizabeth was out of the car and into the house before he unfastened his seatbelt.
"Elizabeth?" He called, walking through their formerly happy home. He passed the doorjamb where Grace's height still stood at just barely four feet. He tried not to look at the family portraits taken through Grace's brief nine years in their lives. "We need to talk."
There was no reply. Instinctively, he went to Grace's bedroom, but she wasn't there, either. He paused for a moment, watching the moonlight fall in silvery beams over abandoned teddy bears and horse figurines. Ignoring the tears in his eyes, William stepped backward out of his little girl's room and turned to continue on to their bedroom. Elizabeth stood before him.
"You never go in there," she said. Her voice was thick, anger and exhaustion muddling it's formerly honeyed tone.
"I can't," he replied simply.
"Oh."
She sensed him wanting to be as far away as possible, so she stepped aside, letting him pass down the hall to their room. His dark form moved quickly and disappeared behind the door. With a longing glance towards the room where her daughter once slept, Elizabeth forced herself to follow her husband.
She opened the door, shocked to find him packing clothes into a duffle bag.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"Leaving. You can't honestly expect me to live like this, can you?"
"But-"
"But what?" He straightened and looked at her. "But I won't be able to abuse you in public and ignore you at home anymore? and I won't let myself be forced into hurting you. I think it's best if we just walk away from each other, don't you?"
"You're going to her, aren't you?"
"No. I'm just going away from you."
She sat numbly down on the vanity seat, watching silently as he packed. After the bag was zipped up, William retrieved a pair of jeans and a grey tee shirt. Deftly, he stripped out of the tux and Elizabeth felt an involuntary thrill in the pit of her stomach. He pulled on his jeans even as she opened her mouth.
"You aren't leaving me for Erin?"
"I'm leaving to save my sanity. I can't watch you fall away anymore. Everyday it gets worse and I'm losing sight of the woman I've loved all my life. That hurts and I don't have the energy to do it anymore. I don't have the energy to have you hate me for losing our daughter."
She didn't say anything, confirming everything that he'd suspected. He'd turned away for only a moment. He'd been responsible for Grace's safety and, ultimately, her death. And his wife blamed him, but not as much as he blamed himself.
He slid his arms through the sleeves of his tee shirt and went rummaging in his dresser for a pair of socks. When he pulled out his old painting shoes, his navy Chuck Taylor sneakers, he had to look up as she laughed.
"What?"
"You hair's shorter, but you're dressed like you used to dress in high school. A cleaned up version of grunge chic."
He glanced down at his attire then shrugged. "I guess you're right. Where's my Nirvana CD?"
She shook her head. "You hated Nirvana. You were much more Soundgarden."
His hand was on the doorknob. She stood.
"Don't go."
"I don't have a choice, Elizabeth. I can't bear the blame from you when I give myself enough everyday."
Again she was silent so he opened the door and walked down the hall, pausing outside Grace's room once again. Like a devoted parishioner, he stepped inside, letting his little girl's world wash over him. Unlike Elizabeth, he hadn't been able to come in here and now he'd entered the room twice in one night. For the first time, he'd noticed the family portrait on the nightstand, a photograph that he was sure hadn't been there when Grace had been alive.
"I would stare at that for hours," Elizabeth said softly, her heart swelling. "I would wonder how those people could keep smiling. Didn't they know that things weren't the same? Didn't they know that life was over?"
"That's just it, Elizabeth. Life isn't over. They don't know that and neither do you. We go on because it's what we do. We live. It's the nature of the beast."
"You're so cold," she hissed. "How can you stand in our baby's room and keep going?"
"I didn't have a choice. Somebody had to pay bills, buy food, work. I didn't have the luxury of falling to pieces. I had to keep going."
"You're a bastard."
"So you've told me many times in the last six months." William returned to the door, stared down at his wife, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you."
Her small fists immediately began to pummel his chest as she screamed at him incoherently. Forcefully, he pushed passed her, fighting the old instinct to wrap his arms around her and take away the pain. It was too late. His wife was gone and the wailing banshee in her place had no use for him.
"You walk out that door and you can't ever come back."
"Why the fuck would I want to? So I can see the hate in your eyes every time you look at me? So I can watch you waste away in that tomb? So I can become a shell like you? No fucking way, Elizabeth. I need to heal and I can't do that with you.
"You won't let me in to help and I'll be damned if I watch you die like I watched Gracie die."
He breath was coming hard and fast, his nostrils flaring as he delivered the harshly honest words to her. It was the first time in months that he'd not tried to handle her with kid gloves; the first time he'd raised his voice in an angry roar. He watched the shock appear on her face and didn't regret it for a moment. It had been ages since he'd seen any emotion but rage in her eyes.
"You have kept me at arm's length since she died. When I needed you the most, you turned away from me. I tried, Elizabeth, I tried so very hard to be understanding and patient, but that's over. You've run out of coupons; I can't give anymore. I have nothing left."
"You didn't reach out to me!"
"Like hell."
"You didn't come to get me once while I was in her room."
"I couldn't go in there. I tried to tell you that. I couldn't go into that sunny room when my sunshine was gone. You weren't there, you didn't see that car plow into her and you didn't hold her in your arms. How could I enter that room when I let her down so horribly?"
She swallowed the lump in her throat. He'd never spoken of her death and she hadn't asked. For the first time, Elizabeth realized that he'd watched helplessly as her—their--daughter was ripped away from them.
"Jesus," she whispered. Her eyes held his for a long moment.
"I don't want your pity. Not now." The bitterness was like tar on his voice, thick and black. "I just want to leave."
"Wait. For just a moment, wait."
He paused, but his back was to her. He didn't want to be persuaded, he didn't want to be convinced that he was making a mistake. Maybe he would go to Erin. Maybe all he needed was to be shown that he mattered to somebody.
"I did hate you. I did blame you."
"How is this news?"
"Shut up and listen." She grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her. "I got stuck there. I was mired in that place and I couldn't get passed needing to hate you and blame you."
"What? You're magically over that in the last two minutes?"
"I've been over it for a long time, but by then it was too late to figure out how to go back. I simply lost my way. It doesn't make up for it, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"Ah, damn, and I've always had a thing for women who hate me," he hissed.
She surprised him by chuckling. "I remember."
There was no mistaking the slightly bitter edge of her laugh, her words; they accompanied the understanding in her eyes that hadn't been there since that horrible day. She knew, maybe for the first time in months, what was going on and, like before, he could read it in her eyes. It touched him. The apology, the memory. It reached down into his gut and uncorked emotions that he hadn't even known he had.
Tentatively, he reached out and touched her cheek. They stood there like that for a long time, William barely noticing that his palm was wet with his wife's tears. When he discovered the moisture on his flesh, he easily slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her into his embrace, burying his face in her hair.
"God, I miss her so much," he whispered, his own tears finally beginning to fall for the first time.
Elizabeth felt his body shake with sobs and gently led him back to the bedroom where she set him on the sofa near the fireplace. Screwing up her courage, she caught his face in her hands.
"Tell me about that day."
He shook his head.
"William, tell me about the day our daughter died."
He began slowly, remembering pointless details with vivid accuracy. He recalled how bright the sun was and how he later thought that it had been too pretty outside for death to come calling. He told her of scolding Grace for riding too far down the block, how he'd watched, powerless, as the Camaro had slammed into their daughter and how she'd took her last breath in his arms.
"I could smell the gin on him! Jack almost lost his lawn mower, he hopped off of it so fast when it happened. He was yelling at Amy before he even made it over here.
"I was charging for the guy, but Jack plowed into me. If Jack hadn't been there, he would have been dead. He should have been dead."
Elizabeth stroked his wet cheeks, smoothed his hair, even as she felt her own skin grow tight with drying tears. Knowing she could never do enough to take back the pain she caused him, she gently kissed his lips in penance.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that you had to live through that and deal with that alone," she watched as he closed his eyes. She placed soft kisses on the lids. "I don't want you to go, but I'll understand if you still want to leave. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but know that you have mine."
He leaned back into the arm of the sofa, his eyes still closed. A part of his brain told him that she was making a play for him, that she just didn't want to be alone, that she would have taken anybody in his place, but he didn't believe it. Even at her worst, Elizabeth had never been false.
"I don't know what to do, Elizabeth," he said, a fresh batch of tears catching on his eyelashes. "I just don't know."
"I do."
He looked at her. She leaned toward him, resting her hands against his chest. Slowly, she pressed her mouth against his, easing them into a long-needed kiss that reminded them what it meant to be alive. She parted his lips with her tongue and helped herself to a taste of him, barely believing that she had forgotten how wonderfully he kissed. Catching his lower lip with her teeth, she nibbled at him briefly before pulling away.
"What was that?" He asked, his voice wary.
"That was me telling you that I've missed you."
"Oh."
"You have no reason to believe me. I know I've destroyed your trust in me, but I don't think I can lose you too. I want you, Will. I need you."
"How?"
She smiled. It was a typical "Will" question. "I need you to be honest with me. I need you to tell me to get over my bullshit and realize there are other people in this world. I need you to remind me of her."
He looked away.
"God, she was so your kid. Do you remember her negotiating with neighborhood kids to rent out her bike?"
"She did have a head for business."
"Stay." Before he could answer, Elizabeth had his tee shirt over his head. She brushed tiny kisses along the planes of his chest and let her tongue dart out to leave a warm, wet trail around his nipples. "Let's lose ourselves together, let's remember what brought her to us in the first place."
William let the last of his fears go, not caring what the next day brought. It was this moment that he cared about. His wife wanted him to touch her. After months of being deprived of her scent, her feel he was so close. Future be damned.
Roughly, he pulled her in for another kiss, this one hard and needy and he pulled every last ounce of pleasure he could from it. She gave as well as she got, sucking and nibbling, caressing and tasting. His hands fisted into her dark curls, pressing her more firmly against his hungry, parched mouth until his need for air became too great.
Panting, he broke away, happy to see her mouth had swollen from his ministrations. She ran a finger lightly down his chest and abdomen, smiling a little when the flesh lurched beneath her touch.
"I've missed you," he whispered. "God, how I've missed you."
"I won't leave you again. Ever."
She shifted on the sofa, her back to him, and lifted her long hair. Silently, he undid the zipper of her little black dress, the one she used to wear that "guaranteed he would get laid." Tonight had been the first time she'd worn the dress since before Grace had died. He smiled at the irony.
She caught the smile and looked at the dress now in her hand. "I guess it still has some of that old black magic in it."
"Come here." His voice was somewhere between a growl and a whisper. He held out his hand, pulling her back onto the couch. "I want to feel you."
Carefully, Elizabeth positioned her body on top of William's, pulse point to pulse point. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, relishing the warmth that radiated from him. It was like she'd been cold for years and only being naked against other flesh would warm her. She could feel his heart beat against hers. It was a marvel that they seemed to beat in time with each other.
"We're a matched set, I fear," came his voice echoing her thoughts.
They lay there for a long time not speaking. The silence stretched until William was certain that she had fallen asleep. He smiled. It had been enough, for now, to lie skin to skin. Of course, he still had his jeans on and the pressure of Elizabeth's body was becoming uncomfortable as his erection grew. He began to shift so he could escape and put her in bed, but she stood wordlessly on her own.
She looked down at him, her eyes flicking towards the bulge in his jeans even as she held out her hand. He took it and she fluidly pulled him off the sofa and stripped him of his pants. As she discarded her panties, he rid his feet of his socks, trying to figure out when he'd lost his shoes.
"You took them off when we were sitting on the couch. You hate shoes, remember?" Elizabeth said, climbing into bed.
"You're right."
"Of course I'm right. I've known you since you were fifteen years old though I've only loved you since you could drive."
William's eyes closed as he took a breath to steady himself. She sounded like the Elizabeth he'd loved since he knew how to love, the wit, the charm, the fire that had been the woman who had captured his heart seemed to be back. God, he hoped it was real.
"It's okay, Will. Come to bed."
He slid in next to her and she cuddled up to his body, pulling him into the warmth of her arms. She felt life seep back into her heart where dead space had previously been and she remembered that there had been a time when being with William had been the only time she'd felt alive.
Suddenly, his lips were on hers then her jaw, behind her ear, on her neck, at her throat. Kisses fell everywhere as William fought the demons that still scolded him for staying. He wouldn't listen. They had something special, they had never been blind to that, well, not until recently anyway. How could he just let her go without one last fight to win her? He couldn't. He wouldn't.
"William?" She asked.
He blinked, hearing his name and stared at her through a daze.
"Thank you."
"For?"
"For being my husband. For giving a beautiful daughter that we were lucky to know. For loving me even while you hated me."
"God, Elizabeth."
She pulled his head down to her breast, stroking his curls even as he suckled her. His hands traveled over her body, finally settling on her cheeks as he cradled her face. Then he kissed her. There was so much love, so much warmth in that one kiss that neither of them could breath for a full minute after; it was magical and healing and poured everything they wanted and needed to say into a single, simple action.
Their eyes met. She nodded simply.
"I love you, Lizzy," he said softly as he pushed into her.
Tears spilled from her eyes when her nickname tumbled from his lips. It had been so long since he'd called her 'Lizzy' that she was sure he'd quite forgotten it. Even as her cheeks grew wet, his tongue traveled over them, licking the saltiness away.
He moved carefully, savoring the warmth of her flesh as it closed around him, delighting in each move she made to match his. She had always been a wonderful lover, but this was more than just great sex happening between them. It was love and passion and life and healing. It was what they needed to make it.
"Are you okay?" He asked as a whimper escaped her lips.
She nodded, her breath catching when his rhythm changed, a little harder, a little faster until the pressure began to build between them, within them, around them. Her hips rose to meet his, to bring him deep inside until his was buried in her. She held him there, delighting in his exquisite feel.
"Now," she moaned. "Now."
William did as he was bid, pumping his hips frantically, releasing months of heartache, anger, and passion as he did so. Emotion flowed out of them, charging the air as they thrashed together. The pressure flared through him and he spilled into his wife while deep inside her. She felt him let go and she found her own release as his seed flooded through her.
He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself together as he rolled away from her to his side of the bed. The gap between them didn't remain empty for long as she rubbed her sweat-slicked body against his.
"Stop worrying. I'm not going anywhere. You have every reason to doubt me, but now that I've find my way home, I'm not going to leave. I love you, Will. It's pretty damn obvious that I can't live without you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," she replied, her tone leaving no room for arguments. She kissed his furrowed brow and got out of bed to turn off the lights. When she curled up next to her husband, he was asleep.
* * *
Elizabeth was crying. She spent a lot of time crying these days, but for new reasons, the newest being the squirming pink bundle in her arms. Her little hands were balled up into fists that pummeled the air like a prizefighter as she squawked her displeasure at her bath.
"It figures. She was due New Year's Day and she came on December 29th. Impatient. Just like her father."
"Hey, I'm not the impatient one. Who was bitching about getting this kid out? Not me."
"You weren't pregnant!"
"Indeed I was not. You looked way cuter in those maternity clothes than I would have anyway."
"Take your daughter."
"Oh, when she's wailing and cranky she's mine, but when she's sweetness and light then she's yours?"
"Isn't that the way it was with Gracie?"
They could talk about her now. She wasn't the sorrow of their lives anymore, though they did still mourn her. Grace Darcy had become their savior of sorts, and they remembered her with love and honored her while they lived.
William took the towel-wrapped infant from his wife and cooed at her, rocking her as he followed Elizabeth into the bedroom. She sat on the bed, taking off her robe without shame or embarrassment. Her breasts were full and heavy with milk and strictly off limits to her husband, who had pouted that she was no fun anymore. Granted, it wasn't exactly a turn on to see her hooked up to the breast pump, so maybe it didn't matter.
"Whose daddy's little Magpie?"
"Don't call her that," Elizabeth groaned.
"Why not? I call you 'Lizardbreath.'"
"Not to my face you don't."
"Oh, yeah."
"Maggie, tell your father he's an idiot." Maggie gurgled and Elizabeth nodded. "See? She's in complete agreement with me."
"I need to impregnate you again. See if we can get a boy. There's too much damn estrogen in this house."
She shook her head, knowing that William wouldn't have traded anything in his life, except, perhaps, that day.
"She's asleep," he whispered.
"You bore her to death. That's why you're the only one she sleeps for."
He put his—their—daughter in her bassinet and joined his wife on the bed. She cleaned up and curled up next to him, loving the way his arms just came around her without thought.
"I love you, William. I hope you know that."
"I do, Lizzy." He cast a glance at the photo of Grace on the wall, so recently joined by Maggie's photo. "I have two beautiful daughters to prove it."