Honour And Duty--Section I

By Emma Elizabeth Anne

Section I, Next Section

Chapter 1

Posted on Sunday, 17 January 1999

0300 hours
21 Jan. 1999

The woman's scream echoed down the dark city street, sending a stiffening jolt up Darcy Williams' spine. Concealed in a shadowy alleyway, he pressed his back hard against the cold stone of the building, and fingered the handle of his gun in indecision. It was not his place to get involved. In fact, it was his place not to get involved. Louie Bourg had upbraided him on a number of occasions for playing the saviour instead of the ruthlessly efficient agent he was paid to be.

"When will you learn that we don't want no bloody Superman, caught up with protectin' the innocent and do-goodin' left right and centre. You're trained and equipped to get your man, and that's your one and only objective. Remember that, next time you're tempted t' use those precious resources to some irrelevant bystander's advantage!"

Hell, it was never that simple, though!

"Civilians are merely distractions from your mission. Stay on course, an' never compromise your concentration."

The cry came again, this time cut short by a heavy blow.

Duty or honour? There didn't seem to be much choice. He stepped from the shadows of the alley and scanned the dimly lit streets. This was a rough part of town - most of the street lights had been shattered, and the few that remained flickered with a seedy orange glow. However, the source of the cries was not at all difficult to locate. About 15 metres to his right, a gang of three hefty-looking thugs surrounded a small, struggling figure. One of them was shouting angrily and holding his nose. Apparently he had not given his victim credit for what she was capable of.

Well, it shouldn't take too long. He could be back on watch and Louie would never be any the wiser. Approaching silently from behind, he tapped the largest of the thugs on the shoulder. Ox-like, the man swung heavily to face him.

"Don't hit girls," Darcy articulated, rather flatly, before laying Ox-man flat on the pavement and blocking the clumsy punch which came flying from his partner. His movements were smooth and effortless, coming naturally to him after long practice. He twisted the arm back so that he could deliver a clean blow to the back of the head. Number Two folded onto the concrete, unconscious. The third member of the party, already suffering from his fractured nose, looked fearfully from his incapacitated companions to Darcy, and back again. Darcy raised his eyebrows ever-so-slightly, in what could be interpreted as either a threat or an invitation. The third man did not wait to find out which it was. He bolted.

Darcy had no inclination to chase him, and instead turned to face his rescuee.

The woman was not much more than a girl. Her figure, if she had one, was hidden inside a battered brown coat which was much too big for her, and she was hunched over, her face concealed beneath literally cascades of reddish curls, which Darcy suspected were dyed. As he watched, a trembling shudder passed through her.

"Are you all right?" He asked gruffly. In his job, the patients in need of shock treatment were left to the paramedics in the aftermath. What the hell was he supposed to do now? In spite of all his high-geared and sophisticated training, he suddenly felt very helpless and inadequate. Once of his primary functions as a government agent was knowing how to act in unfamiliar circumstances, but throw one crying kid at him, and he was at a loss.

"Are you hurt?" He tried again. She had stopped trembling now, but she kept her head in her hands and stayed silent. Darcy reached out to lift the curls away from her face, trying to discern if she was injured, or even just to get a glimpse of her features. It was like touching a live wire - she leapt backwards, out of reach.

"Please don't touch me!" She whispered, her voice muffled as she kept her face averted and hidden.

"I just want to know that you're OK. Then I'll leave, if that's what you want."

Her hands were lowered slowly to her sides and he became conscious of her gaze upon him, appraising him. He heard her soft voice again - "Why did you help me?"

Of all the questions she could have asked! What was wrong with this girl?

He shrugged. "You looked like you were in trouble." He took a few steps forward, holding out his hands, palms up, trying to appear as non-threatening as he could.

The girl hesitated for moment, then backed away again, keeping the same distance between them.

"At least tell me who you are."

"Judith." She replied, after another brief hesitation. By backing up, she had unconsciously moved a little further into the thin light distributed by a lonely street lamp. Even as she tried to conceal them, Darcy's eyes were straining to discern her features. She seemed to be reasonably pretty, judging from what he could see, but her complexion glowed strangely, tainted by the garish tint of the street-lights. Dark blood trickled from a cut in her lip.

"You are hurt!" He exclaimed, unsure of why that idea should horrify him so.

Judith raised her hand and wiped at the blood with her sleeve. "It's nothing." She said shortly. Well, at least her shock seems to have subsided, he thought.

Yet again, she caught him by surprise as she suddenly squatted beside the larger of the unconscious men at their feet and lifted his ham-like arm to inspect the wrist. What could she possibly be up to now?

With a trained eye, he observed that her movements were quick and decided, a characteristic which seemed to undermine her nervous stance and diminutive voice. Which trait then, if either, was she faking?

At first he thought she was checking the man's pulse, and it struck him as strange that she should make such a gesture if he had just tried to mug her. But it seemed that her only objective was a brief inspection of the skin at the base of his right hand. Whatever she saw (or didn't see) must have satisfied her, as she dropped the hand and moved over to the second prostrate man. Darcy watched her silently as she turned this wrist to reveal a strange tattoo - three intertwined six-pointed stars. The sight seemed to affect her strongly. She groaned in despair, and threw the limp hand back down on the pavement.

Darcy leaned closer, regarding the tattoo intently. He had seen it somewhere before, he was certain. But where?

He mused for a moment or two, then turned to give his attention back to the girl, wishing to verify his growing hunch that this was no ordinary mugging.

A cold wind whispered gently up the filthy alley, sending a shiver down Darcy's spine. Silent as a shadow in the darkness, the girl had vanished.

Chapter 2

Posted on Monday, 18 January 1999

The moment his attention was diverted, Judith ran. She moved as she had been taught, her soft rubber-soled shoes making no sound against the pavement. Slipping into the shadows, she crouched close to the wall where the darkness was denser, and continued to move away from the light.

She didn't know who had helped her, or why, and she was torn between gratitude and suspicion. When she was a child, she had owned a picture book which featured a tall, dark-haired prince as a dragon-slaying Sir Lancelot. Somewhere in the depths of her struggling desperation as she had watched the dark-haired stranger calmly dispatch of those thugs, that image had unexpectedly resurfaced.

The man who had helped her had certainly been handsome, and she knew with an icy certainty in her heart that if he hadn't intervened, she would probably be bleeding to death on the pavement right now. Or worse...

Nonetheless, she wasn't taking any chances with strange men hanging about in this part of town, no matter how handsome. Hadn't she learned that handsome men were never to be trusted? It was a lesson she had learned in the hardest possible way.

Still, she had been tempted to stay a moment longer with the handsome stranger who had come to her aid. It would have been a foolish risk, it would have made her vulnerable to identification and discovery, it could well have spelt her death. But if she had not discovered that doom-spelling tattoo, she would have stayed a minute longer and thanked him for his help. But that grotesquely familiar pattern of stars had reaffirmed her resolve to remain unidentified.

Because the thug had been one of them.

They were onto her, again.

She kept running.

Chapter 3

Back in his office at HQ, Darcy leaned back in his chair and took a long sip at his cooling coffee. The computer before him hummed softly in the dimness, the bright white glare of the screen providing the only light in the room.

Beside the keyboard lay a rough sketch of three intertwined stars which he had drawn from memory. On the screen before him, blurred by the pixel enlargement, was an almost identical pattern, embedded in skin with blue ink.

Darcy closed down the enlargement and read the original page from the top, despite already having memorised every word.

Name: Christopher James Wickham
A.K.A. : C. J.
Status: Escapee
Wanted for....

That list was extensive, but it was the final criminal offence that made Darcy's heart burn: ...rape, 6 charges. Poor little Gina, all her suffering reduced to a mere sixth of that cold statistical record.

CJ's gaze regarded him contemptuously from the mug shot that accompanied the record. On the portion of his wrist that was visible to the camera, a tiny marking could be seen. This was the tattooed diagram Darcy had enlarged. He now knew where he had seen it before. It was the trademark of CJ and his allies.

Flicking the screen off, Darcy sat in the dark and stewed in his own overwhelming frustration. For three years he had been on that b*stard's trail, and still the snake eluded him. His underworld contacts were spread like cancer through every facet of the city. How could it be that such a man should continue to walk free and prosper while Darcy's baby sister was still cowering in rehab, trapped by the fear which CJ's treatment had instilled in her.

And now he had his first lead in months - Judith. But he had let her slip through his fingers. The girl had known something, that he was sure of. The tattoo of the thug, identical to that of CJ's, had meant something to her. She was somehow connected with that gang, and he needed to know how. Yet how was he to find her again? All he knew was that she had red hair, greenish eyes and stood about 5'4.

He would have to track her down. Well, he would have to try, anyway. With that decided, his frustration was relieved a little. Any lead, however slim, was better than nothing. And if he was honest with himself, he would admit that he anticipated the chance of seeing the girl again. She had intrigued him with her strange contradictions, her mysteriousness, and that incredible hair.... Not that he had any intention of getting personally involved, he reminded himself sharply. That was the last thing he wanted. His work filled his life now, and there was no room for meaningful relationships. Emotions were distracting, tender feelings undermined the efficiency of the machine.

He thought of Judith as another stepping stone on his mission to hunt down CJ Wickham, and that was all. That was definitely all.

Chapter 4

Posted on Tuesday, 19 January 1999

Judith tossed restlessly in the unfamiliar bed. Her hair was spread across the pillow, and her face was damp with sweat as she fought the demons of her dreams. She was in a dark room, her hands were tied behind her back. She was crying, she was afraid. "Don't hurt me! Please, don't hurt me!"

Then suddenly she was running down an empty street, and all the houses were dark, deserted. Finally she saw a warm golden light shining from an open door, and it was her home. Just before she reached the house, however, the door slammed shut. She looked up to see her father framed in the window, shaking his head at her. "You can't come here any more." He told her, frowning down on her. "This is not your home, Judith."

"No Dad, don't call me that! That's not who I am! Please let me come back! Please!"

But her father was gone and the light in the window faded. Suddenly there was someone behind her, and she turned to see the stranger who had helped her. He approached her slowly, holding out his hand. "Trust me." He spoke gently, and she was instantly mesmerised by the low timbre of his voice. She reached out to him, but the moment their fingers touched he snatched her wrist and when she looked again she saw that his face had changed. The features of the handsome stranger were gone, and their place was the horrific leer and the loathe features of the man behind all her nightmares, including the nightmare of her reality.

"Time's up, Judith." He sneered.

"No!"

And then she was awake, her heart pounding, conscious of the way her last desperate cry was echoing in the tiny room.

She stared up at the stained, cracked ceiling of the dingy motel room, and lay still in the dark for a few moments, letting her heartbeat return to normal. Finally, she heaved a tormented sigh, and threw her legs over the side of the bed to enter the grimy bathroom. Switching on the flickering fluorescent lights sent cockroaches scuttling in all directions, and Judith felt sick with despair.

She twisted a squeaking tap and splashed her face with cold water, then raised her face to the rusting mirror. The reflection stared back at her, battered and dull-eyed. Her lip was beginning to heal, but her left eye was blackish-purple and swollen from the impact of the thug's backhand. It had been a close encounter, closer than usual. She had let down her guard when she had taken that walk. She had made too many assumptions, she had not paid enough attentions to the signs that she had been discovered. By all rights, she should be dead right now. By rights, she should have died a long time ago.

She touched the image gently with her fingers, wondering light-headedly which one of them was the reflection and which was the real girl. Somehow she felt that the image in the mirror had more substance, more certainty, than her own dubious existence. I am no one, after all. As far as the world is concerned am dead already. So why do I keep running? Why don't I let them catch me, and make it official?

But there was just enough of her old self left inside her to give her the strength to banish that defeatist thought. She squared her shoulders in determination, and looked the reflection right in the eye.

Judith. That is my name. I am Judith Walker. I am twenty four. I am a drifting, out-of-work actress. If anyone should ask, I am from LA, California, and I am out to see the world.

It was a threadbare story, but if anyone wanted to know anything more than that, she would be gone before they were any the wiser.

Chapter 5

Posted on Tuesday, 19 January 1999

Darcy stood calmly outside a prison cell, gazing coolly at the occupant, who returned the stare with naked bitterness and hatred. Perhaps his head was still aching from Darcy's well-placed blow the night before. Darcy could have assured him that the dislike was mutual.

"We can't keep him here long, you know," whispered the cop beside him, "If the woman he assaulted has disappeared and you don't know where she is, we can pretty much assume that she won't be pressing charges. So there's no way to keep him behind bars."

"That's fine," Darcy replied, not bothering to lower his voice. "I just have one or two questions to ask the gentleman, if he would be so kind?"

The thug narrowed his eyes. "The cops have already been through here, so who the hell are you? I got my rights, y'know. Don't think you'll be gettin' anything outa me. The cops didn't. I'm as silent as the grave."

"Yes, I imagine you'd know quite a bit about graves as a means of keeping witnesses silent." Darcy was bluffing, but the shifty flicker of the man's blunt features was encouraging.

"Who sent you?" He growled. "You don't act like a cop. Cops is stupid."

Darcy ignored the question, and got straight to the point. "The girl in the alley. How much were you paid to kill her?"

"We wasn't paid to kill her. Anyways, it's none of your business."

"What does your boss want done with her, then?"

The man guffawed, scornfully. "You don't know sh*t. You don't even know who my boss is, do yer? So why should I talk to you at all." He clamped his mouth tightly, just to illustrate his point.

Darcy took one more gamble. "You think I don't know CJ Wickham?" He asked casually.

The thug's jaw dropped, then snapped closed again. "I don't know who the girl is. But CJ wants her bad." He spoke quickly, then tightened his mouth once more. "And that's all I'm gonna say." His gaze dared Darcy to push the matter further. Darcy regarded him soberly, then nodded slowly, turned, and walked away.

It was better than nothing, and at least he had an idea of where to start his search for Judith.

Chapter 6

Judith knew it was time.

If her last brush with CJ's henchmen had been close, this latest one had been scraping the skin off her teeth. Her heart was still pounding as wound the duct tape around the ankles and wrists of the man at her feet. His tell-tale tattoo disappeared beneath the plastic tape. She would leave him on the floor of this awful motel, and be out of town well before he awoke.

If it hadn't been for the creaking floorboard she would never have known that someone was in her room. She would never have had a chance to duck the blow which came from behind, would never have had a chance at all. Thank God Tom had time to teach me all that he did before he... Anyway, I've been too lucky. One of these days my luck will run out. At least then I will have some peace... Unless of course I go to hell for what I've done.

She shook her head to be free of those thoughts. She had to live for the moment. There was no future and there was no past. All she had was Now, and Now absorbed all of her strength just to stay alive.

It was time for Judith to die. They obviously knew Judith now, so she had to drop the facade and become a nameless nothing once more, until she could assume a new identity. Nothing terrified her more than her periods between identities, but it was a process she had had plenty of opportunity to become accustomed to.

The first time she had undergone such a transformation, everything had been highly organised and efficient. After the Incident, she had begun her life again as Dawn, the small-town school teacher. She had found that a difficult transition - leaving all that she knew and loved behind to fit herself into a new life, already created for her by the Witness Protection Program. It amazed her that they could do that - erase one woman's life and slip the stripped-bare result into another niche altogether, with a house and a car and even a dog. All accessories of a normal life, all in support of Dawn's personal history - a history she had never experienced, but a life that was now hers to live. It made reality seem like an awfully uncertain phenomena.

She now realised that that transition had been incredibly easy, compared with what she had struggled through since. In spite of her heartbreak and regrets to be leaving her old life forever, the most difficult things had all been taken care of for her. She was lead to feel safe and protected from the nightmare she was supposedly leaving behind. She had Tom... dear old Tom... to help her start her new life, and to teach her what she needed to know. During the transfer period, he had taken her under his wing. Understanding her pain and upheaval and tearing regrets, he had taken her to his sister's home in the country and renewed a little of her interest in life by teaching her all the tricks of his trade. He built on her already extensive knowledge of self-defence and hand-to-hand combat, and instructed her in methods of camouflage, of identity concealment, of guns and even knives.

With Tom's support, she recovered some of her youthful optimism. She was only 24, after all, but sometimes she felt positively ancient. By then end of her therapeutic holiday, some parts of her were even glad to be Dawn - to have the opportunity to start all over again. And with Tom's intensive training under her belt, as well as his continued care, she was feeling a lot more confident than the broken shell of a girl who had agreed to relate the story of her own shame and shattered life as testimony against CJ. How could she have known what was to come?

She had not realised the full scope of CJ's power, nor had she understood just what lengths he was prepared to go to have her back in his clutches.

Both these things were made apparent to her when she came down to breakfast one morning in her new house with her new name and her new dog to find Tom dead at the bottom of the stairs.

In his hand he clasped a note, which she eased from his unresisting fingers, only to read, through her tears, one short phrase in a hand she had come to despise from her soul.

"Time's up, babe."

Dawn ran. She bolted back up the stairs and climbed through the attic skylight onto the roof. An unfamiliar dark car was parked across the road, but it was empty. They were obviously in the house already. Looking for her.

Backing up, she took the only option left to her. Gathering every ounce of strength in her body, she leapt for her neighbour's roof. To her own disbelief, her feet connected with the tiled surface, but at the last moment her ankle turned and she slipped. As she fell, she managed to catch hold of the metal guttering, which cut cruelly into her fingers and she was forced to let go. Dropping heavily onto the grass, she lay stunned for a moment or two, then dragged herself up and began the first leg of what was proving to be a never ending cat-and-mouse chase.

With the money she carried in her wallet, she managed to make it out of town and back to Tom's sister's house. She did not let her friend know that she had been there - she knew that would only put her in more danger. Instead, she located the suitcase full of cash which Tom had told her about. He said he didn't trust the banks, but that if anything happened to him, that he wanted her to have his life savings. They had become so close as they worked together. Tom always said she was the daughter he never had. Even now, as she thought of him, her eyes prickled with tears which would not be shed.

And so began her life on the run. Guarding the considerable accumulation of cash with her life, Dawn cut her hair and bought coloured contacts and a gun to become Danielle, the ski-instructress from Colorado. Danielle lived the life of recluse in Chicago, but two months into her new life, she noticed that she was being followed as she walked down the street. She was quick to skip town, go blonde, and took to wearing heavy make-up. Now she was Paula, the Marshall-arts teacher from New York. The gun and the suitcase were the only items she kept.

Each woman lasted a couple of months, sometimes more, sometimes less, before she began to grow nervous and pulled up to begin again. She usually dressed to hide her figure and down-play her natural good-looks. No one could be trusted, especially not men.

She longed from her soul to have a life again. Ideally, she wanted the life she had lived with her family, before she had ever met CJ, but any life with a semblance of normality and security would do. She wanted love, children, and a mortgage, but she could barely remember if that sort of life still existed in the real world.

If only she had not gone to that party. If only she had not had those drinks. If only she had refused the syringe. If only she had not fallen under CJ's spell. If only she had not been present in that awful room, if only she had not seen what she had seen. If only Tom were still alive. If only...

Furious with herself for wallowing so long in self-pity and regrets, she brought herself back to the present and marched over to the mirror. Judith Walker looked back at her.

She picked up a pair of scissors, and began to hack viciously at her hair. Soon, Judith would be no more.

Chapter 7

Posted on Wednesday, 20 January 1999

Louie Bourg read the email off his lap-top screen, and shook his head slowly. The damn kid was doing it again! Letting personal matters over ride his primary duties. Unable to express himself adequately by typing, he sent an electronic sound file.

"Listen Williams, CJ Wickham is one of the untouchables. I don't care what this bird may or may not know, you'll never get him. So get over it, and get on with the Greenwood case. That's more important right now than trailing some dead-end lead afta a man no one's been able to even get close to for ten years. To make it perfectly clear, I'm tellin' you you'll receive no more funding from this department if you don't get your ass back in line. Got it? So get back on task, because I wanna to know who is blackmailing Senator Greenwood and I wanna know why. Gimme an update by the end of this week."

Darcy listened to recording with a thoughtful expression, then deliberately deleted the attachment. The Greenwood case was a cinch, and he had just about covered that one in full already. Louie would have his update, and Darcy would keep his funding. He didn't care what he was risking. He was never going to rest until CJ was either dead or behind bars.

Preferably dead.

Chapter 8

A nameless woman stood before a rust-spotted mirror in a dingy motel bathroom, completely overwhelmed with despair.

The scissors lay dropped on the floor amongst fallen curls.

Oh God, what is the point? Judith will die and someone else will take her place, and then it will all begin again. Run, hide, discovered, run, hide, discovered, run, hide, discovered - and then one day I won't have to run again. That's how it's going to end, one of these days. As long as CJ holds that price over my head, it's the only possible conclusion.

She looked up and stared in at the woman in the mirror again, searching for an answer to her despair. She fingered the faded bruise around her eye, and noticed that her nails were chipped and broken. Like her. Broken.

For a moment she looked at her hands, feeling only numbness and apathy. And then suddenly, without warning, she jet of flame shot through her heart and she was angry. Furious. How dare they reduce her to this? How dare they take away her right to live? Why was she still running, after all this time? By assuming defeat and simply dodging the blows defensively, she wasn't giving herself a chance to win.

She returned her gaze to the mirror.

The cringing fear that had dominated the short, ghost-lives of Dawn, Danielle, Paula, Judith and the rest was definitely gone. So who was she now? The idea of simply adopting another pseudonym was repugnant to her. What strength did another made-up nobody have? From where would she draw the fervour she would need to see justice through? There was only one woman with the courage to fight someone as powerful as CJ. And that was the one who had all the motives. The one who had strength, spirit and determination.

The woman she had thought was long dead.

She picked up the scissors again, letting her new reckless courage guide the blades. Red curls dropped away.

She wasn't going to run any more. She wanted her old life back. And she was going to fight for it, to the death if need be.

Putting the scissors down, she slipped her green contacts out and threw them away. Wide brown eyes blinked back at her, bright with rediscovered energy and determination.

If CJ thought she was going to play mouse to his cat forever, he had another thing coming. He thought he had broken her spirit, and for a long time, he had been more or less correct. He thought the wild girl he had seduced all those years ago had been crushed, but he had underestimated her. Hell, she had underestimated herself. But she was damned if she was going to give him the satisfaction of running until she dropped. It was time to fight back.

Sorting swiftly through her hair dyes, she found a sachet labeled simply "Sable". It looked right. Artificially natural. How ironic. She leaned over the little sink, and began the process.

In her head, she was already making plans and considering her options. It wouldn't be easy, she knew that. The odds of her succeeding in her revenge were low, but she was not entirely without resources. Anyway, she knew she would have to try.

Putting her face under the tap, she rinsed away the remnants of Judith's heavy make-up, then dried her face and applied a little concealer to hide the fading bruise around her eye. This done, she rinsed out her hair and took up a blow drier, purposefully keeping her eyes averted from the mirror. Her hair, shortened to her shoulder-blades, curled into tight ringlets, the way it used to do.

Finally, she was finished. The young woman took several deep breaths, and gripped the edge of the basin for support, suddenly afraid of what she had done. Very slowly, she raised her eyes to meet the gaze of the reflection.

For a moment, she just stared. Blinked. Squinted.

And suddenly, she began to laugh. The sensation was unfamiliar and delightful. She hadn't laughed since... Well, she couldn't even remember. The woman in the mirror laughed with her, and two bright points in the depths of her fine dark eyes began to sparkle.

Elizabeth Bennet lives!

Chapter 9

Posted on Thursday, 21 January 1999

Darcy checked his ever-shortening list of motels and hostels in the local area, and began to lose hope. There were only three names left, and he had wasted an awful lot of time already. By his reasoning, Judith should have checked into one of them at least, unless she was spending her nights on the street, which didn't seem like such a good idea for a girl who had half of the city's criminal population after her.

Remembering the way she had dressed, he guessed that she was being frugal with whatever little money she had. Hence his assumption that she would be staying in tenth-rate accommodation. If she was using a false name, he was in trouble. He was also hoping that hadn't skipped town already, but even if she had, searching her room and questioning her lodgers would at least give him a couple more clues to work on. He didn't really like to consider the very real possibility that she had been killed by now. He crossed his fingers and hoped that the thug had not lied when he had said that CJ did not want the girl dead.

His eyes flicked from the piece of paper in his hand to the fizzling neon sign above his head, which announced in garish pink letters that he was standing outside "Denny's Motor Inn". He couldn't say that he was overwhelmed with positivity. Still, he had to try.

The woman behind the reception desk looked up from her tabloid newspaper as he entered, and regarded him suspiciously with beady dark eyes.

"What can I do for ya, Mister?" He could feel her eyes scuttling up and down his expensive dark suit, and fancied he could hear the gears in her brain grinding and scheming.

"I'm looking for someone called Judith," he said flatly, without much hope, "Red hair, green eyes, about 5'4. Seen her?"

The woman's eyes immediately glowed with recognition. "Maybe I seen her. Whad are ya gonna do t' make it worth my while?"

Bingo!!

Darcy produced a fifty dollar bill and laid it calmly on the counter. "I'll double it," he said steadily, "If you can tell me where she is." The woman snatched up the money as if she feared he was about to take it back again.

"Room 7, on yer left. If she's in. She's been kinda popular tonight." She stared at him expectantly. He duly produced the second note she snatched it from his fingers like a greedy child.

That was the trouble with his line of work, he mused, as he made his way down a grotty corridor toward room 7. He only ever saw the worst of human kind. No wonder he had a reputation for being the most withdrawn and caustic pessimist under 65 in his whole department.

Not that he was exactly unpopular. Whenever he deigned to make one of his infrequent social appearances, women flocked around him like moths to a flame, but usually dispersed fairly quickly as they caught the sting of his sarcasm. He didn't believe in love, and didn't want the complications of a relationship distracting him from his job. Criminal minds he understood, women he didn't. Simple as that.

He arrived at the door of number 7, and shifted his mind firmly back to the case at hand. He rapped loudly, then stepped back to wait, hoping fervently that this would not be yet another dead-end.

The seconds ticked by. He tried again. Still no answer. He cursed under his breath, then tried rattling the door handle. To his surprise, it turned easily and he was able to push the door open.

The room was as small and distasteful as he had expected, but aside from an unmade bed and the steady hollow drip of a leaking tap, it showed no signs of active habitation.

However, he had to confess that the unconscious man on the middle of the floor did give him some uneasiness. He drew his gun and moved forward with painstaking caution.

The next thing he knew he was flat on the ground with his arms pinned either side of his head and his gun spinning out of reach. He immediately tried to roll, and found to his relief that he had an advantage of strength over his attacker. He managed to reverse their positions but only for a moment. A knee jerked upwards with painful accuracy, right into his... stomach. He groaned and his opponent slipped from his lock in a swirl of thick brown curls. She scrambled for his gun, reached it and turned it on him only to find that he had drawn a second weapon. Their muzzles swung upwards with identical timing.

They were gridlocked. Elizabeth stared down the barrel of his gun, the adrenaline still pumping in her veins and her chest heaving with the exertion. Shock registered in her brain as she recognised the man who had helped her the other night. What was he doing here? Her surprise was drowned out by suspicion, and she kept her own weapon trained steadily at his head, waiting to see what he would do next.

Darcy, still on the floor, was closer to laughing than he had been in a long time. OK, so it was bitter sort of laugh that was welling in his throat, but a laugh none the less. He wondered what would happen if they both fired. Would the bullets collide and cancel each other out? And wasn't it perfect irony that the most stunning woman he had ever laid eyes on was holding a gun to his head, ready to kill him? Story of my life, he thought wryly.

Despite their apparent conflict, they were in fact thinking the exact same thing - What the hell happens now?

Chapter 10

Posted on Friday, 22 January 1999

Seconds accumulated in the motionless room, measured out by the steady drips of that irritatingly persistent tap. The only other sound to be heard was the heavy breathing of the two antagonists, who continued to regard each other with a cautious mixture of distrust and admiration.

It was Elizabeth who finally broke the impasse, demanding roughly, "Who are you?"

Ah, now we're getting somewhere, thought Darcy, relieved. "Darcy Williams," He replied shortly. "Who are you?"

He doesn't recognise me! Thank God I kept my face hidden that night! And I changed my appearance just in time.

"I don't have to tell you that."

"May I remind you that you are not the only one holding a gun." He said reasonably. "I'd say we constitute a fairly egalitarian society in this room, if we don't count your previous victim over there, who presumably won't be taking part in the conversation."

"What's your point?"

"My point is: answer the question, sweetheart. Who are you?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. He kind of enjoyed watching her get annoyed, (which is, by the way, a supremely stupid way to feel when someone is pointing a gun at your head.)

"I am not your sweetheart. My name is Elizabeth Bennet. My turn to ask the questions. What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for a woman called Judith. Do you know her?"

"Yes, I know her."

He regarded her intently. "You look familiar."

Damn! Her brain whirred. "Judith is my sister." She replied briskly, hoping that would account for any similarities he might notice between the two of them. "You're obviously confusing us. What do you want with her?"

Darcy paused before answering, considering the situation. "Look," he said at last, "I'm sorry to hinder this delightful interrogation, but it's kind of uncomfortable down here, and I'm having a bit of trouble concentrating with that gun in my face. I don't suppose we could come to slightly more comfortable arrangement?"

"Answer my question first, Williams. What did you want with Judith?"

"I'm putting my gun down, now," he continued calmly, ignoring the threat in her voice. Very slowly, he placed his gun on the floor and stood up, keeping his palms visible and holding his hands away from his body.

She followed every move with her eyes. When he straightened up, she became conscious of just how tall he was, and how his broad frame dominated the tiny room. She was now the only one holding a gun, and yet he was still making her feel like he was the one who had the advantage.

"I'm not dropping the gun 'til I get a decent explanation." She informed him obstinately, with more confidence than she was feeling.

"Fine." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But we're doing this by fair exchange. You get a question, I get a question. Deal?"

"Yes, whatever."

"So what did you want to know again?" He was being deliberately dense now.

"Why - are - you - here?" She ground out, infuriated with his stubbornness.

He grinned inwardly, while maintaining his poker-faced exterior. Now isn't that fascinating. I wonder if she knows how bright her eyes get when she's angry?

"That's a long story, sweetheart."

She let the irritating false-endearment pass. "I've got time." She growled.

"Are you sure you don't want to put the gun down? Your arms are going to get tired, you know."

"If you only knew how tempted I am to pull this damn trigger on you."

"You'd be surprised how many times I've heard that."

"Actually, I wouldn't. I'm only surprised that no one's carried out the threat yet. But I'm seriously considering being the first. Now talk."

"OK, all right. But out of sympathy for your triceps, I'll give you the abridged version. I've been looking for your sister because I suspect she may have connections with a powerful underworld gang, run by a man named Christopher James Wickham. CJ."

The gun in his face faltered perceptively, then steadied. Darcy raised his eye-brows questioningly. "A friend of yours too, then?"

"What do you know about CJ Wickham?" Elizabeth demanded, gripping the hand piece of the pistol even more tightly as her palms began to sweat.

"What a coincidence, I was just about to ask you the same question. After all, it is my turn. We had a deal, remember."

"Fine." How much do I tell him? How much can I tell him? "I barely know anything about him. Everything I know has come through my sister, and that's not much. She estranged herself from the family about three years ago, and... got caught up in a bad crowd."

"A bad crowd." He repeated, disbelievingly.

"OK, a really bad crowd. I came out here looking for her. I found her in a bad way, and I've sent her home. She left yesterday."

"Damn!" He cursed softly to himself, then turned his attention back to Elizabeth. "And where does CJ fit into all of that?"

"She mentioned him once or twice in her letters." That was a pitiful story, Liz. He'll never buy it.

"I buy that," Darcy commented coolly. "But what do you propose to do now?"

"It's my turn to interrogate, Williams. Why are you so interested in CJ Wickham that you come stealing into some strange girl's motel room with a gun in your hand, with the supposedly innocent intention of asking her a couple of questions?"

"I'm a cop." Kind of. "CJ is a criminal. It follows that I should have an interest him, and therefore in your sister. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Was that your next question?" She said sharply.

"Was that yours?" He returned, just as quickly.

She glared at him for a moment, then released a short sigh, and lowered her gun.

His eyes were mocking her again. Nice eyes, though....

Elizabeth shrugged the thought away and fixed him in a reproving stare. "Don't get any ideas, Williams. If you set one foot wrong, I still have every intention of rearranging your anatomy, and I assure you that I am quite capable in that respect. The gun isn't terribly necessary. But I always think that business deals should be sealed in an atmosphere of minimal hostility, and my pointing a gun at your head isn't really conducive to that state, is it?"

"Business deals?" Was he hearing things now? Darcy began to wonder if he was dreaming. It really should have occurred to him before. This girl was definitely beginning to push the limits of his reality-metre.

"Yes," she was saying, "I think we can help each other."

"What?"

"You heard. Don't make yourself appear any stupider than you already are, unless you think it will give you an advantage later. In this case, I can assure you that it won't. Look, you want CJ behind bars. I want CJ behind bars. So we have that in common. However, neither of us are advancing very far by ourselves. I've been doing some research of my own, and I have Judith's inside information. But I don't have the right technical skills. I don't have all the resources that a cop has."

"Why are you so eager to see CJ in jail?"

"If you saw my sister, you wouldn't ask that question."

Darcy thought back to the nervous, cringing girl who wouldn't let him touch her, or even catch a glimpse of her face. If it was CJ who had reduced her to such a state, then he - better than anyone - could comprehend her sister's anger, and understand her need to see the guilty party pay a heavy price for what they had done.

"So..." He said slowly, "You think we should join forces, so to speak."

"Precisely. You're not a dumb as you look, which is damned lucky by the way."

Darcy ignored her jibes (for the moment) and allowed himself to consider the possibilities of her suggestion. With Judith out of the picture, her sister was his next best source of information. If what she implied was true, she knew something about CJ's gang and Judith's connection with it. But this girl was dangerous, she was obnoxious, and she was entirely unpredictable. Not to mention distractingly attractive. He couldn't think of a more inappropriate partner.

"I'll do it," he said.

Chapter 11

Posted on Saturday, 23 January 1999

"Where should we start?"

They were interrupted by a low moan from somewhere at their feet. "What a good idea," said Elizabeth, addressing her semi-conscious would-be attacker. She turned to Darcy. "Williams, would you do the honours?"

"My pleasure." He heaved the man off the floor and dumped him unceremoniously into a rickety-looking wooden chair. The thug opened his eyes and blinked blearily, focusing slowly on the barrel of Elizabeth's gun. It took a moment for the sight to register.

"Argh!"

Elizabeth smiled sweetly down on him from behind the weapon. "Rise and shine, sugar-pie."

"Who the hell are you?" He slurred in alarm, jerking ineffectually at his the duct tape binding his limbs.

Darcy raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression the two of you had already met."

Liz swore silently. When this guy had attacked her, she had looked like Judith. He had probably seen her face. This could get complicated. "I guess I hit him a little harder than I thought. He doesn't remember me."

"Hang on, yeah I do! But you used t' have r - "

"Just shut up." She interrupted him, "You'll have your chance to talk, believe me. The gentleman and I have one or two questions for you. I suggest you co-operate."

Fear sprang into his eyes as he fully comprehended what was happening to him.

"Does he have the tattoo?" Darcy whispered to Elizabeth. She shivered involuntarily at the feel of his breath in her ear. Perhaps this partnership wasn't such a good idea. (Then again, perhaps it was the best idea she'd had in her life, depending on how you looked at it...)

She nodded slightly. Darcy took over. "What's your name, buddy?"

The man hesitated, then gave in. "Carter." He said sullenly.

"OK, Carter, we know that you're working for CJ Wickham, so don't bother denying that."

Carter was silent.

"All we want to know is where we might be able to find your charming employer."

Carter snorted disdainfully. "If I knew that and I spilled it to you two, my life wouldn't be worth livin' anyway. I'd be dead before the end of the week."

Elizabeth suspected he was right, and tried another tack. "Then we'll come back to that question later. How about explaining what was going on in your filthy little mind when you came into my room this morning? Before we had our little disagreement about your right to bash me from behind?"

Carter wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. He was sure that the girl he had brawled with had had green eyes. This woman's were brown, and her hair was a different colour, but she still looked an awful lot like the first. Weird. He was rudely drawn from his speculation by a sharp cuff to the side of his already aching head, which made the room spin briefly. "Answer the question." Snapped Darcy impatiently.

"Figure it out yourself!" He retorted whinily. "CJ wants her. So he put a price on her head. I'm just a mercenary, I never even met you... or that girl... or whoever it was..."

"Well why didn't you just shoot m - her, then?" It was a question that had plagued Elizabeth for a long time. If CJ was so determined to see her eliminated, why didn't he just send a hit-squad? There had been countless opportunities for a sniper to take a clean shot and wipe her out for good.

"Shoot her? CJ would shoot me. CJ wants her, y'see, but 'e don't want her dead. He don't even want her hurt. It's like his little obsession, see? He wants this girl, but he wants her alive. And believe me, she's a slippery little b*tch to take when she's conscious and kicking."

Elizabeth's world tilted. She felt sick.

Darcy frowned. "What exactly do you mean when you say 'his obsession'?"

"C'mon, mister, I don't have to spell it out for you, do I? They say she was his little protege a few years back, but she... well, she got away from him. Men like him always want what they can't get. So you get the fixation. You don't need t' be no shrink to figure it out."

Darcy looked to Elizabeth. To his surprise, he saw that the blood had drained from her face and her shoulders were shaking. Concerned, he eased the gun from her unresisting fingers, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He wanted to comfort her, to show her that he understood what he believed she was going through on behalf of her sister. Hadn't he felt the same way about Gina? But he couldn't know the real depth of her nauseating fear.

All this time, she had believed that CJ wanted her dead, because of what she had witnessed and because she had agreed to testify against him. She had thought that her life could not possibly be worse. Now, in a bitterly ironic twist, she had discovered that he didn't want to kill her at all, but her life was defying the laws of physics and continuing to sink long after she had hit rock-bottom.

She felt Darcy's hand on her shoulder and flinched. Her only human contact in three years had been at the hands of people who intended her harm. It was a hard habit to shake.

"I'm fine," she snapped, and paused a moment before turning back to face him. Her eyes were dry, he noted, but they were now as cold and hard as flint. "I think it's time we stopped playing nice and finished this up." She said coolly.

Before he could blink, she had whipped out a wicked looking flick-blade from somewhere on her person and held it against their captive's throat. "Where is CJ?" She asked calmly, as though he were a book she had misplaced.

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet several degrees with Elizabeth's sudden change of mood.

Carter's voice rose several octaves in sudden terror. "I don't know!" He squeaked.

The cold blade pressed harder against the skin of his throat, and began to sting.

"Where is he?" She repeated.

"OK! OK!" Beads of sweat were forming on Carter's forehead. "Boston! He's in Boston! Random House." The pressure of the blade relaxed a little, and he swallowed carefully in relief. A moment later the knife flickered and reappeared about a foot lower, point down.

"You're lying." Elizabeth said softly. Darcy, looking on, couldn't suppress a wince.

Carter shrieked and began to babble. "All right!! L.A.!! He's somewhere in LA!! I don't know any more than that, he doesn't tell us where is!! Please don't hurt me! Please don't...."

Elizabeth straightened up and flicked the knife closed. Carter deflated like a punctured balloon in his relief.

She turned to Darcy, but her gaze traveled right through him as she said in an expressionless monotone - "How soon can we get tickets?"

He didn't argue. "My car's outside. We can go straight to the airport from here."

She nodded mutely and picked up her single suitcase. "I'll be in the car, then."

"I'm right behind you."

Carter's whining voice trailed them out of the room. "Hang on guys, what about me? Wait! You can't just leave me here like this! Wait a minute...."

The door clicked shut behind them.

Chapter 12

Posted on Sunday, 24 January 1999

Elizabeth sat in the passenger seat of Darcy's car, her unseeing eyes fixed on the road. In the driver's seat, Darcy watched her from the corner of his eye, trying unsuccessfully to discern what she might be feeling beneath her unemotional facade.

"I'm ...really sorry.... about your sister." He ventured. And he was, too. He felt a great deal of empathy for what he thought she must be suffering. He wanted to share her burden, he wanted to help her.

"Yes. Thanks." Elizabeth, immersed in her own unpleasant thoughts, was not really listening.

"Do you think she'll be all right?" He pressed on, "You said you sent her home. CJ will still be after her you know. Will she be safe, do you think?"

"Judith is not in danger any more." Judith doesn't exist any more. And that's the only way for anyone to be safe from CJ.

"Don't you want to be with her?"

"Look, all I want now is CJ's head on a platter." She snapped, "Is that too much to ask?"

"No," he replied slowly, "Actually, I understand exactly how you feel."

"Right. Whatever." Elizabeth's tone was bitter. "What, are we sharing a psychic connection or something? How could you have any idea what I feel?"

"CJ raped my sister."

Elizabeth bit down hard on her lip and cursed herself silently. "I'm... sorry." She said awkwardly, after a short pause. "I didn't know that."

Darcy shrugged sharply. He didn't know why he was talking about it, but somehow his mouth kept moving and the sounds kept coming out. "She was fifteen. She didn't have a clue about the world. Our parents died in a car smash when she was just eleven. I was twenty one, so I thought I could take care of her, but I wasn't enough. She should have had a proper family. A mother. I should have listened to my relatives and let my aunt adopt her and bring her up with my cousins. But Gina said she wanted to stay with me, so I agreed to become her legal guardian. It was stupid of me." He stopped, and Elizabeth noticed his grip on the steering wheel was turning his knuckles white.

"How is she now?" She enquired softly.

"Still in therapy. It's been four years now. She's nineteen and afraid to leave the house alone. CJ's taken everything from her - from us. He's taken her smile, her confidence, her future - her whole damn life is in ruins."

He snatched a look at Elizabeth. "So now you see why I am the way I am. Why I would gladly bring you that head on a platter. A cop with a personal vendetta - it's a powerful cliché."

Elizabeth watched him as he spoke, sensing his need to reach out, grateful and humbled that he had confided in her. She still knew very little about him, but she felt that they already shared a fundamental understanding. She thought of his sister, and was sobered by the reminder that hers was not the only life tainted by CJ's poison. She was not the only one with terrible problems in her life.

"I would like to meet your sister," She commented, softly. Darcy nodded slightly.

"She doesn't trust strangers, but I think she would like you."

Elizabeth smiled wryly, thinking how long it had been since she had received any kind of compliment. And she got the impression that being liked by his sister would be a recommendation of the highest order in Darcy's eyes.

There was an pause in the conversation, then Darcy said, "By the way, where did you learn to fight?" His stomach still ached from the impact of her knee.

An image of Tom immediately rose in Elizabeth's mind, and her voice grew cool again as she turned her face to the window and said shortly - "A friend taught me."

"You sure don't give much away."

"OK, so how does an ordinary cop afford to drive a car like this, dress like you, and fly himself and a strange girl he picked up in a motel right across the country at a moment's notice?"

Darcy pursed his lips a little. His personal life was one thing, but in his job he was honour-bound to secrecy. "Department funding." That was true enough. He just wasn't saying which department.

" 'You sure don't give much away.' " Elizabeth mimicked.

Darcy couldn't check a smile, stretching seldom-used facial muscles. Despite herself, Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat. Woah, he should try that more often! He'd have to fight women back with a stick.

"Point taken," He said reasonably, "I'm just trying to sketch your character. But you give such contradictory impressions that I'm not getting on at all."

"Then don't try." She said, a littler more sharply that she'd intended to.

He nodded, accepting that she did not want to talk about herself.

Elizabeth was grateful to him for not pushing the issue, but as they drove on she began to wish that she could open up to him. After all, he had trusted her with the story of sister. But could she trust him? OK, he had saved her life. And OK, she was attracted to him. Who wouldn't be? He was sending hormones whose existence she had all but forgotten into overdrive just by sitting there.... But she had fed him too many lies already. He had taken a chance when he had placed his trust in her. It had been an unexpected and wonderful gift. If she turned around and changed her story now, she would be undermining that trust.

Then her more realistic reasoning kicked in. Damn it, girl, get a grip! What are you thinking? What do you think you could you say to him? This isn't like swapping high-school anecdotes. If he ever found out what you've done, he'd hate you, and he'd be right to hate you.

That thought was inordinately devastating.

The truth died on the tip of her tongue.

They pulled into the airport carpark in silence.

Chapter 13

Posted on Monday, 25 January 1999

The silence continued, almost unbroken, until they found themselves seated side by side about 4000 feet above the earth. Elizabeth's ears were buzzing painfully with the altitude.

"What are we going to do once we're in LA?" She said suddenly, and Darcy looked up from his note-taking in surprise.

"Book into a hotel, visit some hot spots and ask a few questions. That's the usual procedure."

"What? You'd be dead before you got five feet, if you just march into LA and start asking fishy questions about CJ Wickham."

Darcy shrugged. "It's what I do. Anyway, I've been trailing CJ for over a year now, and I'm still alive. Perhaps he finds my screw-ups amusing." His wry tone masked a much deeper well of emotions. He felt his unrelenting failure very keenly. Not only had he been incapable of protecting his sister, he couldn't even catch the man culpable. And he was supposed to be a competent agent! What a joke!

His self-depreciation surprised Elizabeth. He had always seemed so assured; almost arrogant in his confidence. She told him so, rather bluntly.

"Well, you aren't exactly Miss Congeniality yourself." He defended himself.

"What do you want from me? Smiles, jokes and a kiss good-night?"

"Sounds good." He mumbled, and looked away.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. So what exactly will you be doing in LA?"

"What do you mean? I'll be coming with you."

"I don't think that's such a good idea. Some of the places I intend to check out aren't really appropriate for... well, you know."

Elizabeth was outraged. "Aren't appropriate for whom? You think I can't take care of myself? Just cast you mind back to this afternoon, buddy - do I have to I remind you which one of us ended up with the gun?"

"Only because I put mine down."

"Yeah, well that's only further evidence of your stupidity. I could have shot you!"

"But you didn't." Darcy said simply. Elizabeth stopped to consider that.

"How did you know I wouldn't do it?" She asked quietly, after a pause.

The look he gave her was inscrutable. "I just knew."

She met his gaze, then looked away quickly. A girl could drown in eyes like his. Elizabeth hadn't expected to find it so difficult just to keep her head above water.

"Don't do that," she muttered under her breath.

"Don't do what?"

"That look!"

He pretended to be puzzled. "What look?"

"I don't know!" She gestured ineffectually. "It's just a look. Forget it."

I don't believe it! Darcy was thinking, The Queen of Cool is actually flustered!

"And stop laughing at me," Elizabeth added, sulkily.

"But I didn't make a sound!" He protested.

"Yes, but you're still laughing at me. Admit it."

He fixed his face into a reproving expression. "I never laugh." He said sternly. At least I didn't, before I met you...

"Liar. I can tell when you're laughing. It shows in your eyes. Why don't you laugh out loud?"

"With you, it seems I can save myself the bother of making any sound at all. You analyse my every facial expression and decide what I'm thinking before I know myself."

"That's not true. Most of the time, I haven't a clue what you're thinking."

"I could say the same about you."

"But we're not talking about me! We're talking about you!"

"True. What was the question again?"

Elizabeth stared up at him and said nothing for a few moments. Suddenly she made a choking noise in her throat, and averted her face.

For a minute, Darcy couldn't figure out what was the matter with her. Then it dawned on him. "You're laughing!" He said, incredulous.

Elizabeth shook her head and pressed her lips together, but her eyes were all but watering with repressed mirth.

"No... No I'm not..." She struggled to recover herself. Darcy was still looking doubtfully at her, which made her want to crack up all over again.

"I don't see what was so funny." He said in mock-indignation.

"Nor do I..." She gasped, catching her breath. She put a hand on her chest as if holding in another fit of giggles. "Oh, but it feels so good to laugh again."

Darcy grinned for the second time in one day -- surely a record breaking occurrence. Being with Elizabeth somehow felt so right. He didn't know how to explain it. She was so quirky, so tough, and yet so vulnerable. She made him want to laugh and cry and hold her close all at once. A sudden rush of uncharacteristic and inexplicable tenderness overwhelmed him as he watched her.

When Elizabeth turned her head to look at him again, she realised he was looking at her in 'That Way' again. This time she didn't look away, and her heart began to pound in her chest and her breath started coming quickly as she felt herself slipping into the warm honey trap of his melting gaze. For just one moment, they shared a bond of perfect intimacy and understanding, free from their painful pasts and respective destinies.

A stewardess with a trolley rattled noisily up the aisle beside them, and the moment shattered. Elizabeth jerked backward and blinked rapidly. She closed her mind against the fire Darcy had ignited in her veins, and snatched up a magazine with shaking hands. With guilty haste that equaled hers, he had grabbed his pen and started writing furiously at his notes.

Elizabeth had her eyes fixed on the page before her, but she saw nothing. Her mind was buzzing with chaotic thoughts and emotions. At a time like this, with her life in the state that it was, she knew very well that stupidest thing she could possibly do....

....was start falling in love.

Chapter 14

Posted on Tuesday, 26 January 1999

After touching down in Los Angeles, Darcy fell into his usual routine and checked into the customary luxury hotel. Elizabeth stepped into the extravagantly affluent foyer, and stopped dead as everything around her screamed Class! After living a rat's existence for so long, the sudden leap left her completely in the lurch. She looked down at her faded jeans and cheap blue coat, then across to Darcy in his fine dark suit. He was completely at home here. She was the out-of-place intruder.

Overwhelmed with insecurity, she tugged hurriedly at his sleeve. "Do we have to stay here?" She whispered, cringing inwardly as a walking fashion plate swept past her and raised her eyebrows in a terribly well-bred sort of way.

Darcy looked back at her in surprise. "What's the matter with it?"

"Well just look at me! I don't belong here."

He obligingly looked her up and down. "You're beautiful." He said seriously.

His words sent a delightful shiver over her skin, and to her own surprise and mortification, she actually began to blush. Elizabeth Bennet: unyielding cynic, hardened fugitive, and disillusioned woman - the girl who'd spent the past three years of her life calmly burying her knee in any man who got too close - was blushing like a school-girl because a man with a pair of chocolate-brown eyes told her she was beautiful.

He took her by the hand and led her onward toward to Reception desk.

In a daze, Elizabeth allowed herself to be led. You want to sleep with him! Accused a voice in her head. She denied that emphatically. This was a mild infatuation. That was all. It would pass.

How could you be so stupid? That voice was still berating her, apparently unconvinced. God, what does it take to teach you a lesson?

They were approaching the wide marble Reception desk. The clerk greeted them with a false smile that revealed a mouth packed with large white teeth. "Good evening, Sir and Madame. Welcome to the Bel Mondo Hotel. Have you made a reservation?"

"No," replied Darcy shortly, "The name is Williams. Darcy and Elizabeth Williams."

"Ah, wonderful. Then you will be wanting a couple's suite?"

Elizabeth glared at Darcy. If looks could kill, he would have dropped dead on the spot. He pretended not to notice, and opened his mouth to reply to the clerk's query, but Elizabeth interrupted him.

"No, thank you. We're not married. We're.... brother and sister." Darcy shot her an amused glance. Her eyes were flashing brilliantly again, so he was not at all disappointed by her reaction.

They received their keycard, and turned to make their way over to the lifts, and Elizabeth began to verbally abuse him under her breath.

"How dare you imply that we were married! He was about to give us a room with an emperor-sized bed or something! What did you think you were doing?"

"Cool it, sweetheart," Darcy replied shortly, while enjoying every moment, "I've got your best interests at heart. A boring married couple attract less attention, that's all."

"Call me 'sweetheart' one more time," Elizabeth fumed, "And I will see to it that you seriously disappoint your future bride!" An awful thought suddenly occurred to her. "If you're not married already, that is. Are you?"

He shot another of his inscrutable looks. "No. I'm not married."

"Good," she replied, a little too quickly, surprising both of them. "I mean, I wouldn't wish to inflict you on any woman." She covered her slip smoothly.

He absorbed the jibe calmly and asked, "What about you? Are you married?"

"Me? No."

He nodded. "Boyfriend, then." It was more of a statement than a question.

"No."

His brow creased, even though his primary emotion was relief. How could it be that this incredible woman was unattached? "Why not?"

Elizabeth shrugged awkwardly. She didn't like the turn the conversation had taken.

There was a pause, then Darcy said quietly, "I know nothing about you, apart from your name and the fact that you fight almost as well as you interrogate. Why won't you talk about yourself?"

They arrived at their floor and stepped into the hallway.

Elizabeth put out a hand to stop him, and he faced her expectantly. She had fixed her gaze at the wall behind his left shoulder, and spoke very softly - "Please don't try to understand me, Darcy. Only understand that my past is something that ought to remain buried. Don't ask me to relive it, please."

He nodded slowly. She was grateful for his sensitivity. Wanting to lighten the mood once more, she snatched the keycard from his fingers and they raced like children to the door.

The moment their backs had turned, the smile on the face of the receptionist evaporated. His sharp eyes took in every detail they could scavenge. As the pair stepped into the lift together, and he snatched up a phone and began to dial.

Chapter 15

Elizabeth stepped into the spacious white shower and twisted the taps, letting the hot water pummel her skin. Gradually, the stress and confusion of the past few hours seeped away, and she simply stood, eyes closed, letting the water wash over her body. Half of a luxuriant hour later, she reluctantly turned off the taps and wrapped herself in a huge soft white towel. The extravagant novelties of this place delighted her aesthetically-starved senses, but her enjoyment of them was tempered by the knowledge that she was here on false-pretenses. That if her companion ever discovered the truth about her past, the holiday would be over in an instant... and she would never see him again.

Just for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine that things had been different. That CJ had never existed, that she had met Darcy had met four years ago when she had been a bright-eyed innocent, happy and pretty and loved. What a charmed life she might have lived then....

Pulling on a plush white dressing gown, she wandered absently from her bathroom into the main bedroom, where she curled herself into one of the cushioned armchairs and rested her chin on her knees, looking out over the sprawling city-lights. Somewhere out there, in that fallen constellation of artificial stars, lurked the source of all her shame and misery. It was because of him that happiness was lost to her. It was because of him that no matter how many showers she took, she would never feel really clean.

She heard Darcy in the second bathroom, and her thoughts turned back to him. OK, she conceded to herself, so he's alternately annoying and arrogant, then he's gentle and kind. And sometimes, I hate him, and other times, I ....

Actually, now that she had admitted to herself that she didn't hate him, she was forced to acknowledge that her true feelings amounted to something very different. There was trust, for one thing. In just a couple of hours, he had won from her the one thing she thought she'd never give again. She sensed that he trusted her, too, and was overwhelmed with miserable guilt by the knowledge that she was not worthy of it. In fact, she reflected miserably, she was not worthy of him at all.

Darcy stepped out of the shower and roughly toweled down. The pressurised stream of hot water was both refreshing and invigorating, and surprisingly enough he was in the best mood he could remember being in for a long time. He had no desire to analyse the feeling, and permitted himself a rare evening of relaxation before he launched on the most important and most difficult case of his career. Momentarily forgetting that on this particular occasion he was not alone in his hotel rooms, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped from the bathroom into the main bedroom.

The sight that met his eyes stopped him dead in his tracks. He stopped breathing and let his senses overwhelm him. Elizabeth sat curled in an armchair by the open window, looking out on the sprawl of city lights. She was wearing a luxurious white hotel dressing gown, and her damp brown curls were moving gently in the breeze. Only her profile was visible as she stared vacantly into the distance, and he saw, not for the first time, that there was a deep sadness in her beautiful eyes.

More than anything, he wished to know what it was that shadowed her thoughts. He could see that she was hurting inside, but as dearly as he wanted to help her he simply didn't know how. If only he had never agreed to this ridiculous partnership. This girl was too... Hell, he didn't know, but somehow she had gotten under his skin and the feeling she gave him deep inside made him certain that he was never going to be the same again. It was a completely new sensation - it even frightened him in a lot of ways, but it could not be denied. It was foolish, it was unethical, it was uncharacteristic, and it was most definitely the dumbest thing he had ever done. But he had done it.

Because he wanted Elizabeth Bennet, and he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman in his life.

Apparently sensing his presence, the object of his thoughts turned in her chair to face him. For a moment he simply stared, unable to look away. She held his gaze without speaking. Then all at once he remembered what he was wearing, or rather, what he wasn't wearing, and he had to mumble an excuse and retreat to the bathroom to dress properly.

Behind him, Elizabeth continued to stare after him. Unbidden, a single tear slipped down her cheek and dropped into her lap. She brushed hurriedly at her eyes, and turned back to gaze out over the city.

Chapter 16

Posted on Thursday, 28 January 1999

The evening continued without much in the way of drama. Elizabeth and Darcy ate in their room, and argued passionately on just about every topic they discussed, although neither could deny that they each rather enjoyed the sparring. Even so, Darcy had to ball his fists tightly on a number of occasions to prevent himself from leaning over and stopping her mouth with his. Elizabeth sat opposite him, and though she smiled, her heart ached with unspeakable sorrow.

Darcy proposed his plan for locating CJ -- basically, he was opting for methodical research and investigation. Elizabeth thought it too slow and too conventional. She claimed that it would give CJ much time to learn that he was being tracked, and then react either by having them killed or by skipping town.

Darcy inquired, with infuriating politeness, whether she would mind explaining her own plan, since it was obvious that with her superior experience and knowledge, she had something better in mind. Elizabeth maintained that whatever they did, it ought to be done swiftly and recklessly. She was certain that it was the only way to catch a snake as slippery as CJ was to surprise him in his own environment.

In view of the sort of company they would be mixing with the next day, Darcy took a slim, dark briefcase from his larger bag and used his thumb-print on a small sensing pad to flip open the clasps. Elizabeth was immediately impressed, although she was careful not to show it. (Matter of principle.)

When she glimpsed what was resting inside, she had no longer had to concern herself with suppressing awe. The case contained nothing but a rather boring looking fountain pen, a book, a watch and a non-descript necklace. Darcy ignored her skeptical comments, and slipped the pen into his pocket. Then he picked up the book and handed it to Elizabeth.

"You can open it," he said blandly, "But don't read the last page."

She shot him a disbelieving look, and defiantly flipped straight to the back. To her shock, she found that the last third of all the pages had been hollowed out, and in their place lay a tiny reddish screen which immediately lit up and began counting backwards from 'five' in bold red digits. Darcy leaned over and snapped it closed once more.

"Three more seconds," he said conversationally, "And you'd have blown this whole floor to hell. Next time I give you instructions like that, I advise you to follow them."

Elizabeth nodded dumbly. For once, words had failed her.

Darcy barely concealed a grin, but began to show her how each of the other gadgets could be used to assist one in a tight spot. The pen could be used as a tracking device; the watch disrupted the workings all electrical equipment within a twenty metre radius; the necklace was capable of shooting tiny steel darts which could paralyse a man within thirty seconds. Elizabeth felt as if she had stepped onto a James Bond set. Which would make her, she reflected wryly, the token female side-kick. The comparison did not appeal to her.

When that lesson was over, they returned to their original argument - how to corner a gangster as powerful and wily as CJ. The battle raged until both were exhausted, and fell into their respective beds. Both lay still beneath the sheets for at least an hour, each meaning to give the other the impression that they were already asleep. At first their thoughts revolved around the daunting mission that lay ahead of them. As drowsiness set in, however, such reflections faded into insignificance.

Elizabeth contented herself with watching his covers rise and fall. It was oddly comforting to have him nearby, to know that he would be there beside her when she woke up. Darcy listened carefully in the dark to catch the sound of her gentle breathing. If I can just see this case closed, he promised himself sleepily, Then I'll tell her how I feel. I'll tell her truth about my job. I don't care that I know almost nothing about her. I just want her. She'll understand that. She has to understand.

Back in the hotel room the following evening, Darcy felt like punching the walls in his frustration. After a long day of investigation in some of the grimiest rat-holes he could imagine, he was no further advanced than he had been that morning. CJ had covered his tracks too well. No one seemed to know anything, and those who did certainly weren't talking.

Elizabeth had accompanied him, proving herself a competent and a close-mouthed assistant. Most of the time she simply blended herself into the background and let him do what he was trained to do, but more than once she surprised him with her sharp observations. And it seemed that whenever he was at a loss as to where to go or what to do next, she was able to supply him with some obscure detail about CJ's habits which gave him another lead. He asked her again and again how she knew such things, but every time she replied simply -- "Judith."

Judith, we was beginning to perceive, must have been far more closely associated with CJ than he had originally assumed. The possibility that Elizabeth was lying simply did not occur to him. Lying was something other people did. Not Elizabeth.

Nevertheless, it had ended a very frustrating and unpromising day. CJ was still firmly entrenched in the shadows of the city, and Darcy didn't know what he was going to do about it. It was the night of the week when he normally called Gina, but today he couldn't bear the thought of speaking to her. His failure to avenge her hurt was eating at him too cruelly.

Throwing off his shirt, he walked into the bedroom. Elizabeth was already in bed, fast asleep. He paused for a moment, watching her. Her dark lashes flickered slightly, and she shifted restlessly in her sleep.

He had noticed her becoming increasingly quiet and withdrawn as the day wore on. By the time they made it back to the hotel, she had appeared both emotionally and physically exhausted. Dropping into bed, she had fallen immediately into a deep sleep and had not woken since. After pacing and planning restlessly for an extra hour or so, Darcy decided to follow her example.

Slipping between the sheets, he sighed heavily and stared at the ceiling for a few moments. Then he rolled over and turned out the light.

Chapter 17

Elizabeth was back in the dark room -- the room that haunted all her dreams. This time she was unbound, as she had been in real life.

She tossed and whimpered softly in her sleep.

She was crouched in a corner, shivering and dry retching as withdrawal symptoms tortured her body and mind. Praying fervently that CJ would not find her, and knowing what consequences there would be if he did. It was the heroin which he supplied her with which kept her bound to him. Desperate to break free from the hellish web which her stupid inexperience had enmeshed her in that night at the party, she began to destroy the packets of white powder she was offered. She knew that her only escape would be through breaking her addiction and making a run for it.

At the party, it had all seemed so harmless. The gorgeous stranger that all her girlfriends were swooning over was paying so much attention to her! Bringing her drinks, offering to drive her on the next party, guarding her jealously from anyone who looked like competition for her attention. She allowed herself to be led, determined to let herself go for one night at least. One night turned into two, as she agreed to go out with him again.

By the time the heavy drugs started appearing on her social scene, she had drunk far more than was good for her and was barely aware of what she was getting herself into.

It wasn't too long before her worried family tried to interfere, but CJ had decided that he wanted to keep his pretty little minion by his side a little longer, and decided to lure her away from her home town and into the city where it was easier to hide. As yet unaware of the true extent of his criminal activities, placing all her trust in his suave 'I love you's, and already more of less stupefied by the narcotics, Elizabeth never really stood a chance. Blindly, she followed him deeper into the nightmare.

CJ didn't ask much of her. He left her alone by day, but usually expected her to share his bed at night. And in return, he provided her with the stuff of her addiction. She quickly fell into the habits of the other young people she was living amongst. The drugs took over her life. She lived like a zombie, never questioning, never objecting.

'Never' - that is, until the morning when she woke up to find that one of her 'friends' had overdosed in the bathroom. It was a young girl called Mary - barely sixteen... and now she was dead. Elizabeth stumbled back out of the room and felt the first unblurred emotion she had felt in more than two months seeping into her heart.

It was horror.

She tried to remember exactly what she had been doing these past weeks, and found she could hardly recall. What she did remember made her violently ill with sudden shame and disbelief.

And that was when she knew she had to get away.

Going 'cold turkey' was harder than she could ever have imagined. Curling up in a dark corner of a room she thought was never used, she went to hell and soon believed that she was never coming back.

She didn't know how long she had been there when she heard voices. Recoiling into the shadows, she struggled to still her shivering and watched silently as CJ entered along with three seedy young men whom Elizabeth recognised as his closest associates. They were arguing fiercely about something, but CJ was standing a little apart from them and not taking part. He shut the door very firmly behind them, and watched his companions bicker for a few moments.

Finally he spoke, drawling calmly in a voice which Elizabeth knew preceded violence - "The fact is, boys, that one of you screwed up. I'm afraid the deal has fallen through."

The men looked uneasily at each other. One of them began to defend himself, but CJ silenced him by raising his hand. "I don't want to hear excuses. I don't want justifications of any kind. I can assure you that I quite understand."

The relief that flooded the room was overwhelming.

"However," he continued, "While I do understand, I am unable to forgive. So..." His gun flipped coolly into his hand and spat out three muffled shots. "I am afraid you're fired."

His words were followed by three dull thuds. Elizabeth shut her eyes tightly and swallowed the scream that welled in her throat. If he discovered her there, she thought, then she too was as good as dead too.

When she dared to open them again, the room was empty except for corpses. Scrambling unsteadily to her feet, she ran to the door and found her way onto the street. She kept running and stumbling as she looked fearfully behind her, waiting to feel a bullet lodge in her back. The street behind her was empty and dark. Choking back desperate sobs, she ran on.

Darcy woke to the sound of a woman crying nearby. For one disorientated moment, he thought it was Gina, and sat up quickly. In the bed beside him, Elizabeth thrashed restlessly against her blankets, and tears streamed down her face. Every now and then she sobbed brokenly in her sleep, and mumbled a couple of indistinguishable words.

Alarmed, Darcy threw back his own covers and approached her bed. He shook her shoulders gently, but she did not wake up. He tried again, sitting on the edge of her bed and leaning close. Suddenly she screamed, and he pulled her roughly into a sitting position, trying to bring her out of her nightmare.

He began to comfort her the way he had comforted Gina, holding her in his arms and rocking her close to him. She clung tightly to him, her sobs slowly subsiding. Relieved, he started whispering soothingly to her, stroking her hair and instinctively placing gentle kisses amongst her curls.

Blindly, she raised her tear-streaked face to him and he pressed his lips softly against her forehead, then her cheeks, kissing away her tears. Almost inaudibly, he heard her murmur his name. Without thinking, he placed his lips over hers and let his hand slide over the side of her face. He felt her unconscious response and let the kiss deepen. As Elizabeth fell back against her pillow, she pulled Darcy with her, and surrendered herself thoughtlessly to the sensation of his skin against hers.

For a few hours at least, there was no past and no future.

There was only kisses. There was only warmth.

There was only love.

Chapter 18

Posted on Saturday, 30 January 1999

Darcy opened his eyes, only to squint against the bright morning sunlight that was streaming into the room. He was immediately conscious of a warm weight against his body, and looked down to see a tousled head of brown curls resting on his chest. He smiled - a wide and genuine smile. He knew that he really ought to be berating himself for breaking all the rules and becoming so personally involved in what was supposed to be a business arrangement, but he could not bring himself to feel anything but contentment.

And that was exactly how he felt, with Elizabeth asleep in his arms - content. Sure, CJ was still his worst enemy, but that obsession no longer dominated his every waking moment. Elizabeth - beautiful, precious Elizabeth - was all that he truly needed in life. In two short days, she had become his everything. And he couldn't wait for her to wake up so that he could tell her so.

As if sensing his thoughts, she sighed a little and stirred drowsily in her sleep. Her right hand slipped across his chest, and she lay still once more. Darcy's eye was caught by a wide silver bracelet which he had noticed on several occasions. In fact, she never seemed to take it off. Curious, he reached down and fingered the intricate design etched into the metal. He wouldn't mind a closer look at it.

Slowly and carefully, so as not to disturb Elizabeth, he reached around her with his other arm and his fingers found the simple clasp. The bracelet broke easily into two halves and fell away into his hands. For a few moments he studied the skillful designs, and watched the sun reflect off the bright silver. He felt Elizabeth stir again, and knew that she was beginning to wake up. Smiling again, he reached for her hand to replace the bracelet. He brought her hand right up to his lips and gently kissed her fingers. Then he positioned the silver band once more and turned her wrist over to re-fasten the clasp.

That clasp never was refastened.

The bracelet slipped out of his hands and Elizabeth slipped out of his arms as he wrenched himself out of bed. Elizabeth gasped and woke up, blinking quickly in fright.

"What is it?" She mumbled, in sleepy alarm. She sat up in bed and looked into Darcy's face. What she saw there made her heart turn cold. Her hand flew guiltily to her wrist. As she had suspected, the bracelet was gone.

"How - why - who - " The words seemed to choke him.

"Darcy, please - " She tried, but he didn't want to listen. The anguished hurt in his eyes gave way to icy fury as he stared down at her.

"I don't think I want to hear it, Elizabeth - if that is you name! Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"Elizabeth! My name is Elizabeth Bennet! Please, just let me explain - "

"Explain? Explain what, exactly?" She bit her lip, and stayed silent. What could she say now? I was CJ's heroin-addicted mistress for a while, but now I only want to see him dead. It was a youthful indiscretion, and I really regret it now, honest! Forgive me for lying to you and betraying you and sleeping with the man who raped your sister? Oh God! How did this happen? Why did I sleep with him? How could I have done this?

"Come on Elizabeth, lie to me! Feed me more lies! I'm waiting!"

"I was young!" She managed to strangle out. The words were burning in her heart, and they spilled out with her tears. "I was only nineteen, and yes I should have known better but I didn't, I didn't! CJ - he turned up at a party. I was stupid, I let him flatter me. I let him bring me drinks. And one thing led to another and he - "

"Stop!" Darcy choked out the word. His face was so pale that he looked as if he might throw up. "No more! I can't hear any more!"

"NO, please listen to me! I know you hate me now - I know because I hate myself for what I've done! But you have to hear me out - "

He interrupted her tear-choked pleas, rasping harshly - "Why should I?"

Elizabeth was silent. She couldn't think of a single good reason why he should grant her an explanation. After all, why should he believe anything she might say?

"Because," she whispered softly, her eyes pleading desperately with him, "Because I love you."

For a moment he almost lost it. She nearly got to him with those eyes, those words... But then his terrible hurt flared again and he turned his back on her, saying coldly - "I'm leaving now. Make sure you're gone when I get back." With that, he snatched up some clothes and stormed out.

Elizabeth stared after him, her heart tearing down the middle. She glanced down at her wrist again, and as her tears began to flow they dropped pitifully onto the triple-star pattern embedded deep in her skin with blue ink. But no matter how many tears she cried, she knew that nothing would ever wash that mark away, no more than they could wash away the stain on her soul.

Chapter 19

Darcy stalked through the lobby and out onto the street.

The clerk at the reception desk watched him leave. The moment he was out of sight, he fished a tiny speaker out of his pocket and held down a button with his thumb, and spoke in low voice. "Now." Was all he said.

Oblivious to this, Darcy set off in a random direction, striding hard through the city, his thoughts and emotions all in turmoil. He had thought that he didn't care about her past. He had told himself that he could accept her for who she was now, and that he didn't need to know her history in order to love her. He must have been crazy. How can you love someone without a past? Their past is who they are, and who they are is who you love. Didn't that make sense?

Then how could he have fallen in love with Elizabeth?

He hadn't needed to know her name, or the name of her old high-school, or what her favourite flavour of ice-cream was. All that had been irrelevant to him. He had simply loved her, from the very first moment he saw her. So what had gone wrong?

CJ. That was what had gone wrong. He couldn't describe what had happened to his insides when his eyes had fallen on that tattoo. They sort of twisted tight and all of his thoughts burned up in his brain. He had wanted to love Elizabeth regardless of her past, but he had never really thought about what could be so bad that she would want to conceal it forever. CJ. No wonder she had concealed the truth.

And now that he knew... He wished he had never found out. The thought of Elizabeth and CJ ... No, he couldn't even bear to think of it. But to think that she had been lying to him all this time! That rubbed salt into the wound. He had trusted her so blindly, so stupidly, and she had -

Suddenly he stopped. What had she lied about? How could she have lied, when she didn't tell any facts? She hadn't actually deceived him, she had just... declined to reveal her story altogether.

No wait, there was Judith. Where did Judith fit in?

And then, in a blinding flash, it all fell into place. It was so obvious, and yet he had failed to piece it together. Judith and the thugs. Judith and the 'bad crowd'. Elizabeth and her reaction to Carter's information. Elizabeth's mysteriousness, her defensiveness, her reluctance to talk about her past. Elizabeth's detailed knowledge of CJ's gang and his habits. It all made sense. Elizabeth was Judith. How could he not have seen it??

And that meant... That it was not Judith whom CJ was obsessed with. It was Elizabeth. Horror gripped his heart - not only in abhorrence but in fear.

Stupid, stupid girl! What was she thinking? To come with him to LA when she was the object of such a man's fixation was like walking straight into the lion's den. Didn't she understand that?

Then again.... She thought that you would be with her. She thought that you'd be by her side - perhaps she believed you could offer her some measure of protection...What a joke that is!

And so far, he had been with her every moment. If CJ was aware of her presence in LA, as he very probably was, then he would certainly be watching her, waiting to make his move.

Darcy swore softly to himself. How long had he been gone? Ten minutes? Fifteen? More than enough time for...

Please God, he prayed fervently as he spun on his heal and broke into a run. Don't let it happen again. Don't let me lose them both to CJ. Please, let her be OK....

Chapter 20

Posted on Friday, 5 February 1999

Elizabeth wasn't quite sure how long she sat forlornly amongst the crumpled sheets, letting her tears wash down her cheeks and stifling wrenching sobs. The image of Darcy's hurt-filled eyes tormented her, and for the moment all her other troubles had faded into insignificance. Knowing that she had lost him forever, nothing else seemed to matter at all.

She wasn't sure how long it was she before became aware that someone else was in the room with her. There was no sound. There was just... a feeling. Suddenly she was conscious that the apartment had lost its empty, desolate feel, and instead she sensed something... something more sinister.

She swallowed hard on her tears and forced herself to listen.

The silence was so heavy that it hummed in her ears.

"Darcy?" She ventured, her voice trembling as her voice tentatively broke through the silence.

Her words were absorbed into stillness. There was no response.

Elizabeth stood up slowly and pulled her dressing gown about her, moving carefully so that she would hear any sound. Her heart was thumping hard against her ribs as she listened. She knew there was a gun on the desk six feet to her right. She would feel a lot better if she had that measure of protection at least. It was probably being paranoid, but what the hell, 'paranoid' had worked for her so far. Who was she to argue with her instincts?

She moved toward the desk, stepping carefully and feeling tension pull on every nerve. Quiet now, not a sound... Don't give yourself away now....

Five feet. Three feet. One foot - she reached out.

A tiny sound behind her and she knew immediately that she was too late.

There was a sharp 'pft', and a bullet lodged itself in the desk before her.

She shut her eyes tightly against the horrible reality, her blood throbbing in her veins and her whole body nauseous with fear.

"Elizabeth." The voice behind her echoed her nightmares.

"You won't shoot me," she asserted, with a numb terror that enabled her to speak with more control than she could otherwise have managed.

"We'll see about that. Turn around. Oh, and keep your hands where I can see them."

Raising her arms away from her body, Elizabeth tensed ever muscle, determined not to tremble and let him see how much she feared him. Turning slowly, she kept her eyes on the ground, and focused on a pair of steel-toed black boots.

"Look up."

Elizabeth ignored his command, until she saw the cruel-looking boots approach and felt the cold metal of his gun beneath her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his.

The reality of CJ was even more terrifying than the nightmares he spawned. He was more haggard than she remembered, though the thick black hair and sharp chin were just the same. His eyes were an unusual pale blue, and they were just as sharp and ruthless as they had always been, though now they were ... crazier.

Her terror re-doubled, though she struggled to keep her face expressionless.

When he spoke again, his voice was wheedling but dangerously soft. "You've been avoiding me." It was such an insane thing to say. In any other circumstance she might have laughed. Even now, she was feeling slightly hysterical.

He tried to touch her face but Elizabeth shuddered and jerked her head away.

"Why did you run away from me, Liz?" He whispered, "We used to get along so well...."

Elizabeth tried to back away, but he caught her by the wrist and held her in a vice-like grip.

"Don't you touch me!" She hissed. He raised the gun in his other hand a little higher.

"Watch your mouth, babe." He said, a little more sharply.

"What do you want from me, CJ?"

"Not a lot, Liz honey, not a lot. I want you back with me. That's where you belong, babe, and you know it."

In spite of her fear, Elizabeth could not disguise her disgust for him. "Never."

For a moment, CJ pulled back, apparently surprised by her reaction. Then something in his face seemed to twitch and his pretense of calm was lifted.

It seemed to Elizabeth that too much of the whites of his eyes were visible as he snarled. "I see I'm going to have to teach you some manners." He raised the butt of his gun swiftly and made as if to strike her with it. She cringed, waiting for the blow.

"Actually," came a conversational voice from somewhere behind CJ's left shoulder, "I rather like her manners as they are."

Elizabeth's heart soared with surprise and hope for a moment, then crashed back to earth as CJ's fist closed in her unbound hair and she was spun around to face Darcy, whose cold mask of fury frightened even her.

Darcy held a gun trained on CJ, who held his own weapon against Elizabeth's head. "Darcy Williams," CJ drawled, suddenly cool again, though he was breathing just a little too hard, "I must say I'm a little surprised to see you here. I never would have pinned you as the type who likes to pick his women from the gutters. Sleeping with the girlfriend of the criminal you're assigned to? How very Bond-ish. Or perhaps..." He paused, and then began to speak very slowly, wonderingly, "Perhaps she never told you about us. Perhaps she didn't tell you that she's nothing but a junkie and a whore - that she works for me."

"No!" Elizabeth cried, "That's not - " CJ slapped a rough hand across her mouth and pressed the gun point harder against her temple.

"She's a good little actress, isn't she, Williams? I bet she had you fooled. Were you in love with her too? Don't take it too hard, my friend. We've both been betrayed by the little whore in one way or another. In fact, the only difference of any significance in our respective situations is that I will live to take her and you will die today."

Darcy felt sick to the core. But he couldn't let his pain or his hatred cloud his senses. He couldn't give his fury any leash yet. "The only person who'll be dying around here, CJ," Darcy spat coldly, "Is you." He lifted his gun a little higher.

CJ shook his head with an infuriatingly confident smile, showing off sharp white teeth. "You're half right, Williams, but only half. One person will die here today, but..." As he spoke, two more black-clad men slipped into the room, both training weapons on Darcy. CJ flipped his own into his pocket, and released his grip on Elizabeth's hair, surveying the situation with smug satisfaction. "...But that is going to be you." He finished.

Darcy could do nothing as one of the accomplices removed his weapon and swiftly searched him, while the other oversaw the whole operation with a gun. Darcy recognised the clerk from the reception desk, and realised the full extent of the error he had made. If he didn't do something quickly, he was going to be dead and Elizabeth would be... No, better not to think about that now.

The larger of the two armed men gripped Darcy roughly by the arms and held them pinned behind him. The second man kept his gun drawn.

"Well, well, well," CJ gloated irritatingly, turning to Elizabeth, "I suppose this has tidied up our disagreement rather nicely, hasn't it?"

Elizabeth glared silently, not understanding straight away. He reached out and caressed her cheek, and she pulled her face away once again. He released a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, and let his hand drop.

"You've been so unco-operative, Liz. I really am running out of patience. After three years, I think I'm entitled to sacrifice a few social niceties to help you see the light." He paused, then said - "All right then, let me make it perfectly simple. You agree to come back to Chicago with me, or..." He paused again, letting the drama build before adding casually, "...or your boyfriend there dies."

"No!"

"Your call, babe." CJ inspected his fingernails.

"He's going to kill me anyway, Elizabeth!" Darcy warned quietly.

"Why Williams, do you take me for a common criminal? I assure you, my word is my bond."

"Elizabeth!" Darcy called her name softly, without any idea of what he could say to her. CJ's words had burned a hole somewhere near his heart. He didn't want to believe CJ, but Elizabeth had never given him her own version of her story, so he had no idea of what was truth and what was fallacy. His emotions boiled, but he could say nothing.

Elizabeth tried to step towards him but CJ blocked her path. "Uh uh," he warned her teasingly, although his eyes were cold and furious with jealousy at what he saw in her face when she looked at Darcy Williams. "You make your choice."

She stepped back again, and Darcy could see that her eyes were desperate with indecision. Subconsciously, her fingers went to her throat and she began to fiddle nervously with her necklace. Darcy's heart did a double beat when he suddenly recognised the chain.

The locket!! He willed her silently, trying to communicate with his eyes what he could not say aloud. The catch behind the locket! Aim the tip at CJ and flip the catch! She was wearing the necklace he had placed around her neck the night before. It was going to be their only chance now, but in the heat of the moment she seemed to have forgotten all about the extraordinary capabilities of the 'ornament' dangling at her throat.

"Well?" CJ was growing impatient.

In spite of her fear, the gaze that Elizabeth fixed him with was filled with hate. "Why do you even bother with this whole black-mail kick, CJ? We all know that it doesn't matter what I choose now. If I say yes, I can look forward to a life of living hell, and you'll have Darcy killed anyway. If I say no, we both die. Am I right?"

CJ grinned tightly. "Basically, yes, that's right. But I like think of myself as a benevolent dictator - after all, you do have a choice - life with me, or death with him. You're a clever girl - I don't see that it's such a tough decision to make, really."

Elizabeth did not hesitate. "I would rather die with him that spend a single hour in your company." She spoke with low passion, but her words were clear. He could not misunderstand.

For the first time, the meaning of her words seemed to reach him. His grin dissolved and for a moment his face seemed to crumple. He stepped backward and blinked rapidly. A dangerous tic distorted his features as his deranged thought processes struggled to absorb her words.

Oh God, she thought feverishly, He really is crazy. I didn't realise... It's terrifying.

Her hand flew back to her throat, and she clutched compulsively at the necklace again.

He partially recollected himself and advanced on her once more. "You don't mean that." He was almost begging her, though his eyes were flashing dangerously. "You still love me, don't you? That's all I want, Liz, I just want us to be happy. We can be happy together, can't we Liz?"

She swallowed her nausea and was silent, afraid to provoke him unnecessarily. But her silence seemed answer enough. His mood swung again, and now it was pure rage that took over his personality.

He hissed a curse and raised his arm as if to strike her down, but as he lifted his hand above his head, something small and silver seemed to fly from no where and embedded itself in his neck. He released a roar of pain and surprise, and clutched with both hands at his throat.

It took Elizabeth a moment to realise what had happened. Suddenly she was conscious of the locket she was holding between her fingertips, and remembered what Darcy had told her as he had placed it about her neck the night before. This catch will fire a tiny steel dart. It will paralyze a man within thirty seconds. Be careful how you use it.

And suddenly things were happening very fast. CJ was all ready beginning to stagger slightly, as he clawed at his throat. "Kill the agent!" He slurred viciously, addressing his black-clad accomplices, "But leave her alive!"

The two men looked at him in alarmed uncertainty, not understanding what had happened to their boss. Taking advantage of their moment's distraction, Darcy wrenched hard in the large man's grip and managed to flip the man off-guard. Suddenly things were happening very fast. The clerk with the gun jerked back to face Darcy, and was met with a sharp chop to his lower arm, forcing him to drop the weapon, and a split second later a powerful fist connected with his face. Staggering backwards, the clerk managed to duck the next punch, and swung a clumsy but forceful blow to Darcy's stomach. Darcy doubled over as the air was forced from his lungs, but as his opponent advanced for the kill he managed to jerk his head up once more, and felt a horrifying crunch as his skull connected with someone's face. He looked up to see the other man swaying unsteadily, with blood running from his nose. It didn't take much to see him laid out beside his friend.

Darcy's attention immediately snapped toward Elizabeth, but he didn't have a chance to locate her with his gaze. Even as his eyes were registering what he saw, CJ was fumbling clumsily with the safety catch of his own revolver. All in an instant, Elizabeth realised exactly what was about to happen with a ghastly premonition. She saw that Darcy had no time to arm himself, that CJ would fire, that she was about lose the man she loved more than her life to a bullet fired by the man she hated.

If things had seemed to happen quickly a moment before, time now adjusted itself by slowing down. Everything happened in slow-motion.

Elizabeth screamed and ran forward. Darcy stood helplessly as he saw the back-lash of the firing gun send a shudder through CJ's body, but Elizabeth was flying towards him, and her body jerked, puppet-like, as she fell into his arms.

CJ dropped to his knees, and the gun slipped out of his hand. His limbs no longer obeyed his commands - he could do nothing but watch as Williams held Elizabeth's unmoving body against him. It seemed that his rival could not accept what CJ had known from the moment he fired: Elizabeth would not be returning his embrace.

As his vision blurred, CJ's lips managed to form her name, before he hit the carpet with a thud.

Darcy did not notice. Elizabeth... could not.

Chapter 21

Posted on Sunday, 7 February 1999

Three Months Later

Darcy sat hunched on the hard bench, elbows resting on knees and head hanging low. He took a long draw on the cigarette which he held loosely between thumb and forefinger, then let his hand drop again and tapped away the ash. It was caught by the light breeze and wafted gently toward the murky waters of the harbour.

The day had been heavily overcast, and yet there was no rain. Now, as evening approached, the activity on the harbour was beginning to thin along with the light. A few lonely trawlers were just setting out for the night, and a long, mournful horn note signaled their departure. Darcy had been sitting by the harbourside, watching it all without really seeing any of it.

His face, usually so cool and impassive, had grown drawn and haggard over the past few weeks - a result of too much alcohol and too little sleep. During the early weeks he had drunk heavily, ready to try anything that would help him escape from his guilt, his anger, his regret. For who cared what he did now? What did he really have to live for?

He wished he could say - Elizabeth. I live for Elizabeth.

But Elizabeth was gone.

Somehow, however, his natural instinct for self-preservation had saved him from succumbing entirely to alcoholism as a means of solving the problems in his life. He took another draw on his cigarette, exhaled slowly, then dropped the butt and ground it hard into the pavement with his foot. He had given up smoking many years ago, but somewhere in the painful fog of the past months, he had apparently started again.

Sitting alone beside the harbour on a cool grey evening, his clothing crumpled and his head hanging low, Darcy Williams was the very picture of despair.

Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, reminding him sharply of the ambulance, the shouting paramedics, the dash to the hospital. Only the adrenaline had kept him coherent then. Now that the adrenaline was all gone, it seemed that nothing could keep him moving forward. Life slowed down, turned grey, became void and pointless.

Although he felt he could sink no lower, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter, determined punish himself once again.

Darcy,

He read, his eyes following the same lines they had read a thousand times already. Elizabeth had had the letter delivered through an obliging nurse at the hospital, but Darcy had been denied from seeing Elizabeth himself, at the patient's request.

He kept reading.

Please do not throw this letter down. It contains no analysis of any past sentiments - which I know are best forgotten entirely, if you have not already left them behind you. Nor is it a plea for your forgiveness - what you choose to think of me now is irrelevant. In fact, once you have heard what I have to say, I hope you will think of me as little as possible. I do not know exactly what your feelings are on this subject, but whatever you are thinking now, I believe that what I am going to do is the right thing by both of us.

I am sorry if my refusal to see you as I recovered in hospital gave you pain. I am aware that I owe you a great debt in many ways, and I know that my actions there were weak. But please understand. I could not bear to see you again, knowing how much I had hurt you, knowing that I had ruined everything....

I know what I have done. You do not deserve to be burdened with me. Believe me, you would live a better life without me. My past is a cross that should be mine alone. It would be unfair of me to ask another to bear it with me, and you, more than anyone, deserve better.

I do not mean this letter to be a justification of what I have done. Merely an explanation.

Having resolved that you should be released from me and the pain which I have caused you, my original intention was to disappear without any contact at all. I felt that that would be the cleanest, easiest way to remove myself from your life. I intended to let you think the very worst of me, and thus you would have no regrets at leaving me behind. But when the crucial moment came, my resolve deserted me, and I succumbed to my own selfishness. I could not leave you behind without truth or explanation. Hence this letter. Whether you chose to read this or not is up to you. At least my own conscience is slightly soothed by the knowledge that if you should wish it, then you have the explanation you desire at hand.

Elizabeth went on to describe everything that had passed, in a language detached and unvarnished. She wrote of her childhood, of growing up, of her whole involvement with CJ Wickham. She described her years on the run, her decision to turn the tables at long last, and finished her narrative with the simple phrase - "and then I met you." She did not mention anything of the short days they spent together, nor did she speak of the scene that ended their drama. In the final paragraph, she spoke briefly of her plans for the future -

...I am thinking of looking for my family again. I had parents and sisters who loved me once. Since estranging myself from them three years ago, they have not seen or heard from me. Perhaps I do not deserve their hospitality, perhaps they will not welcome me back with open arms, but I know that I owe them an apology at least, and a reassurance that I am alive.

With CJ in jail for life, part of me feels liberated. Other parts of me are still crying. But I am hopeful. My life is my own, now. Perhaps, some day, I will even find a measure of happiness.

I will pray every night, from my heart, that you may find the same.

Elizabeth.

Slowly and carefully, Darcy folded the letter in half, then in half again. He pushed it back into his pocket, and stood up, stretching stiff muscles. He had been sitting for a long time.

It was almost dark. Darcy turned to the deepening shadows, and began the long, lonely walk home to an empty house.

Chapter 22

Posted on Friday, 12 February 1999

Author's Note: This one is for my ever-affectionate friend, Suzanne, who has threatened me with 'certain death' involving a small plastic spoon unless I post again this weekend. I suppose every writer likes encouragement... ;)

Darcy stood on Gina's doorstep and pressed her electronic doorbell.

"Yes?" Came the slightly static response through the intercom.

Darcy pushed a button and spoke into the receiver. "It's me."

"Darcy! Just hang on a moment!"

There was a tinkle of keys on the other side of the door, and a moment later it swung wide, and Gina greeted her brother with a bright smile.

Darcy was quite taken aback. He had spoken to his sister many times, but he had not actually seen her for many months. The young woman in the doorway was not at all what he had come to expect when he visited. Gina had put on weight, and gained colour. Her fine blonde hair was loose, and she wore a bright summer dress that complimented her china-blue eyes. And most incredible of all - she was smiling.

"Gina, you look...." He stared, groping for the right word.

"Happy?" She filled in for him, her smile widening still further, "And so I should be. It's about time, wouldn't you say? Come inside, Darcy. We've got a lot to catch up on."

"So it appears." He still could not get over the change in his pale, reclusive little sister, but she insisted that he wait until they were settled on the sofa and fortified with steaming coffee before they talked.

"Well?" Darcy asked at last, placing his half-empty mug on the coffee table.

Gina grinned again, and blushed a little as she spoke the words that caused her brother to visibly start. "I'm getting married."

"You're what?" He said incredulously.

"I'm getting married," she repeated patiently, still smiling shyly, "His name is Samuel, he's a social worker. He's the kindest, gentlest, funniest - oh, Darcy you should hear him. He makes me laugh like no one else can. Haven't you ever met anyone who just feels right by you side? I didn't know that feelings like this existed before I met Samuel!"

Darcy winced slightly. Gina's words described a happiness which was to him no more than a painful echo of what might have been.

It was very soon apparent that Gina could wax lyrical on the many fine points of Samuel's character, and once he recovered from his initial shock, Darcy was able to congratulate his sister from his heart. He was a little suspicious of any man in her life apart from himself, but he would have to be blind to miss the light in Gina's eyes as she spoke of this 'Samuel'. Besides, he was more than ready to approve of any man who could make his melancholy sister smile again.

Still, he could not let the whole affair pass without satisfying himself on one or two matters. As much as he hated to bring it up, he felt that he had to say something. "Gina," he spoke earnestly, "I am very happy for you. But I just need to reassure myself that you really are going to be all right. I mean, are you sure you are ready for such a committed relationship? Certain things... in your past... Does Samuel know? Those kinds of secrets can... hurt people, Gina.""

Gina looked directly at her brother. "You mean CJ, don't you?"

Darcy nodded. Gina sighed, and said, "CJ is in the past, Darcy. He hurt me. He was a dangerous man, he hurt a lot of people who never deserved to be hurt. But those people have a right to a future, don't you think? I know that there are more girls out there, girls like me, who made mistakes and paid a terrible price for them at the hands of CJ Wickham. But I pray for them. I pray that they will find someone, someone like Samuel, who is strong enough and who has enough love in their heart to listen to the story of their pasts, and accept them."

Darcy fought a wave of guilt. Gina could not know how much pain she was giving him by describing her relationship with Samuel. It was everything that he and Elizabeth could have shared if only she hadn't done what she had done, if only she hadn't lied, if only been able to forgive her... God, if only there weren't so many "if only's"!! They tormented him night and day.

"Then Samuel knows?" He frowned, trying to absorb all that Gina was telling him. "What did he... How did he react?"

Gina looked down at her hands, then back at her brother. "When I first met Sam," she replied softly, "I couldn't tell him the truth about me. You can't know what it's like to have such a horrible burden shadowing your whole existence, all the time, no escape. You can't understand just how much you want to pretend - pretend to be someone else, pretend to be a normal, happy girl, someone worth loving. You see, you want so much to be loved but you are so sure that no one could ever love you after what you've done... So you lie. I began to lie to Sam, but in the end I knew I had to tell him. And he listened, Darcy, he just sat opposite me and let me talk without saying a word. And then when I finished, he didn't turn away like I was so sure he would, but he put his arms around me and just held me close, and let me cry. And then he told me, he said the most beautiful words I've ever heard. He said - "It doesn't matter, Gina. I love you." And suddenly the shadow was gone. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. I knew it was all going to be OK now, because he still loved me."

Darcy struggled to hold back the unbidden tears that stung his eyes. What have I done?

"Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" Gina was still talking, "No one can forgive themselves for their own mistakes, unless those around them, the people they love, can look them in the eye and say 'I know what you did, and I love you anyway.' If the people around them turn away...."

Darcy was looking pale, and he mumbled something indistinctly under his breath.

"Pardon?" Asked Gina, suddenly coming down from the clouds and noticing her brother's state.

"I said, 'Elizabeth never knew.' Because I never told her." He rubbed a restless hand over his drawn face and tried to calm his churning emotions.

Gina folded her hands calmly in her lap and waited silently for him to continue. She had not felt able to question him, but she had been hoping for some kind of insight into his deep and seemingly inexplicable depression. CJ was in jail, the case which had obsessed him for years was finally closed, and yet his despondency had only deepened. Why? Gina felt it was time to find out.

After a few moments of silence, the words which had been burning circles in Darcy's brain for months now started spilling out. He began to tell his sister about meeting Elizabeth Bennet, about falling in love with her, and he described the circumstances of their estrangement.

He spoke of the conflicting, self-destructive emotions which he had dwelled amongst since then. The betrayal, the anger, the pain. The love, the longing, the bitter tears. The guilt, the regrets, the recriminations. He would blame her, he would blame CJ, he would blame himself. He would determine to seek her out, perceiving that his life without her was a void. Then his pride would rush back, and he would push the idea away, as the old pain of her betrayal and then her disappearance made the thought of pursing her seem foolish and pathetic.

He talked until his voice grew hoarse and at last he felt empty of words. He finally fell silent. Gina allowed a few moments of silence, before she softly said -

"But you still love her." It was more of a statement than a question.

Darcy sighed heavily. "Yes." He replied dully. "Yes I do love her."

"But she doesn't know that?"

"No. No, I never had a chance to tell her."

Gina frowned slightly. "I don't need to ask whether she loved you. She stepped in front of that bullet to save your life - I don't think any greater love exists. And you say to me now that you love her.... But you won't seek her out." She paused again. "Explain to me one more time why that is?"

Darcy's mouth moved to form another excuse, another feeble justification of pride and hurt feelings, of betrayal and desertion. But the words no longer seemed to explain anything. Under Gina's gentle, forgiving gaze, all his reasons were obsolete.

He gave up on excuses, and just spoke the words that came to him. "Gina, I can't! I don't know why!" He stood up abruptly and began to pace, running a restless hand through his dark hair. "God, I sit alone, night after night, miserable and lonely because Elizabeth is not with me! I go to bed at night afraid to sleep because I know that I will dream of her, and wake up to find myself in an empty bed. And I get up every morning only to start the whole awful cycle over again! I don't know why I can't bring myself to face her, Gina! There's so much love and hate and longing and repulsion and tenderness and guilt all mixed up in what I feel that I just don't know what to do."

Gina watched him stalk about the room, his face drawn with emotion. She shook her head slowly, and smiled ever so slightly as she said, "Darcy Williams! Sit down, or at least stop that pacing. You know, when I was a little, I used to think you were infallible, and afraid of nothing. You were my hero, but I suppose even a hero is still just a man deep down. And now it is my turn to save you - I just didn't think I'd be saving you from yourself.

"Didn't you listen to anything I told you before? Elizabeth is no better or worse than me. She made a mistake, William. Yes, she should have told you, but considering the situation she found herself in, can you blame her for trying to conceal her past? I can't, because I know what she felt and I have done just the same. You say you felt doubly betrayed because she deserted you once she got the chance. Can you really be surprised? I wanted to run from Samuel once he knew the truth, and he was sitting right in front of me. It is such a natural reaction! She was in love, she was scared, she had no hope of acceptance. Did you expect her to stay to have you rip her heart to shreds with your anger, or your indifference? What reason did you give her to stay?"

Gina's forehead began to furrow and her voice grew louder as her frustration with her brother grew.

"You were foolish, William. What is your pride? It is stupid vanity, and childish hurt, and self-centredness. That's all. You've only thought about yourself, how you are hurting, what you've been through. Have you thought of her feelings at all? I strongly suggest you start. Because you don't have many choices now. You can just get over it - which seems like an unlikely outcome the way you've been behaving these last three months. Or you can get out on the streets and find this girl. And when you do, you better beg her on your hands on knees to forgive you for your all the stupid things you've done and all the precious time you've wasted in coming to your senses. Meanwhile, start praying that she hasn't found someone smarter and more forgiving than you while you've been wallowing in regrets and self-pity and letting her wander the county with a broken heart." Her spiel accelerated and grew louder as she spoke, until at last she had to stop and gasp for air.

"Excuse me, Gina?" Darcy was finally able to get a word in edgewise.

"Yes?"

"Good-bye."

"Where are you going?" She demanded, feeling that there were still a lot of home-truths he had yet to hear.

"Where do you think? Thank you for the coffee, Gina. I would really love to stay and talk, but I - "

"Darcy," Gina grinned, stood up and pointed to the door, "Shut up and get out."

She saw him to the door, but as she closed it behind him, her smile faded a little. "And good luck...." She whispered softly after him.

She had a feeling he was going to need it.

Chapter 23

Posted on Saturday, 20 February 1999

Elizabeth did not cry as she closed the envelope which sealed her future. Nor did she shed tears as she packed her meagre belongings into a small bag, and yanked the zip closed. She left her letter with the nurse at the main Reception desk with careful instructions as to who it was to be passed on to, then slipped out of the hospital and into the night. She hailed a taxi, and gave the driver directions.

A few hours later she found herself rattling south-bound down the highway on a nearly-empty bus, while the eastern horizon was beginning to glow. She clutched her bag on her lap, and stared blindly at the scenery rushing past the window. Still she did not cry.

She had expected tears. She had anticipated tearing regrets, overwhelming guilt, unbearable heart-break. But there was none of that. There was nothing but a terrible hollow ache in her chest - a nightmarish void that frightened her.

She began to imagine Darcy when he received her letter, and longed to know what his reaction would be. Not that it makes any difference to me now! She tried to direct her mind onto other things, but images were crowding her brain. She began to imagine wild, impossible scenarios. What if he came looking for her? He never would, of course, but what if he did? What would she do? What if she had died from CJ's bullet? Would he have mourned her at all? What if she was making a terrible mistake by running from him? What if...

She was finally startled from her torturous reverie as the bus changed gears with a noisy wheeze and began to slow down. Peering out of the window, she saw that the endless miles of farmland and smattered civilisation had given way to a pretty township - and she realised with a shock that she knew where she was!

Down that street to the left is the old school... There's old Mr. Sanderson's fruit market.... And just behind that service station is a short-cut through the park.... I'm almost home!

Elizabeth stood at the gate and stared at the comfortable little house. The roses in the neatly-tended front garden were blooming, as they always did at this time of year, but the sag in the second porch step had still not been repaired. Nothing had changed - and yet it looked so different. Her stomach felt tight with nervous apprehension as her hopes and fears assailed her.

What if they don't live here any more? What if they slam the door in my face? What will I do then? What if someone has died? What if they hate me now?

Suddenly her resolve shattered, and she began to hurry away from the gate, away from what may or may not be awaiting her inside that house that was once her home. What could she have been thinking to come here in the first place??

She turned the street-corner hurriedly, accidentally colliding with someone coming in the opposite direction and sending a bag of groceries rolling over the pavement.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" The other woman gasped apologetically, even though it could hardly be considered her fault. Elizabeth immediately returned the apology and went down on her hands and knees to pick up with goods that had been dropped. The other woman made as if to help, but found it awkward, being very heavily pregnant. Besides, Elizabeth did not need any assistance. Within a few moments everything was back in the shopping bag, and Elizabeth handed it back to the thankful lady. As she did so, she looked up into her face for the first time.

The blinding recognition was like a slap to the face.

"Jane!" The name burst involuntarily from her lips. Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and pushed the hair out of her face.

The blonde woman started visibly to hear this stranger cry out her name. For just a moment, she stared blankly at the young brunette who stood before her.

Elizabeth's heart sank. "You don't recognise me?" She asked sadly.

Jane's eyes widened. "Lizzy?" She whispered disbelievingly.

Elizabeth tried to answer her but found she could not speak.

"Lizzy!!" And the groceries went crashing down once more as Jane dropped the bag and threw her arms around her sister's neck. "I don't believe it! Where have you been? Oh, Lizzy we've been so worried!! Why didn't you call? Are you all right? Just wait until you see Dad!! He'll be so happy! And Ma, and Lydie and Kitty and Mary!!! We've missed you so much!"

Lizzy held her sister tightly and tried not to cry, but the tears came anyway, streaming down her cheeks. When she pulled back a little she saw that Jane was crying too, but they were both smiling through their tears, and both talking at once.

"....I can't believe you're back!..." "....A baby? You got married?..." "...Really missed you...." "....I'm so sorry about..." ".... I can't believe it...." "...You look so great!..." "...Didn't know what to do...." "...So happy to see you..."

A few moments later they were in back front of the house, and Jane's shouts brought the rest of the family spilling out the door to see what was wrong. Suddenly Lizzy was surrounded by screams of delight and concern, and tears and smiles and hugs.

She began to cry in earnest, laughing though her sobs as she hugged her father and looked up at the sky. It had never seemed so blue.

Thank you, God, She thought. I'm finally home!

Chapter 24

Posted on Tuesday, 23 February 1999

Another 6 Months Later.

September 14th, 1999

Gina's wedding day dawned - to use the old cliché - bright and beautiful. The church was decorated with white roses and the bride appeared positively angelic as she glided down the aisle, beaming with joy and holding her brother's arm.

Darcy was able to smile - but only for his sister's sake. Gina and Samuel seemed barely aware that there was anyone else in the church as they exchanged their vows. Darcy was almost glad of this. He did not want his sister's happiness marred by the observation that his smiles never quite reached his eyes.

He danced with three girls at the Reception, but later remembered nothing of them except that one was called Sarah and she had dark hair that was almost the same colour as Elizabeth's. He joined the crowd to wave Gina and Sam good-bye as they set off on their honeymoon, then left the party early.

It was ten months exactly since Darcy Williams had first laid eyes on Elizabeth Bennet.

The Darcy who climbed slowly into the driver's seat of the black Mercedes [What can I say? It's tradition!] was outwardly not so very different from the man who had dispassionately intervened in a common street-fight all those months ago. He still resembled the reserved and handsome fairy-tale knight that a frightened young woman had once associated him with.

No, nothing much had changed in his appearance. The changes had all been wrought inside.

Three months of agony, and then months of fruitless searching had worn him down. He didn't know what to do. Could he accept that Elizabeth was lost to him forever? She had surely found someone else by now. Or someone else had found her. (An attractive young woman in search of a new, stable existence must surely be in want of a husband.)

For six months, there had been no sign of Elizabeth. Darcy took life one day at a time, but he would never - could never - give up until he had seen her again.

Louie D. Bourg disapproved of Darcy's obsession with the woman, believing - quite rightly - that it distracted him from his work. In an effort to discourage him, he denied funding to his search for Elizabeth and inundated him with other cases to distract him and keep him occupied, expecting the man to forget his infatuation. He might have regretted the harshness of his impositions had he known just how close Darcy came to quitting in order to continue his search unhindered. But he knew that he could not. He was bound by contract - he was bound by honour.

And yet he would not abandon his fruitless search for Elizabeth. His resources had been limited, but he persevered and refused to consider submitting to the apparent hopelessness of his mission.

He knew, better than anyone, that it was extremely difficult to locate someone who didn't want to be found. If that person was experienced in covering their tracks, it was even harder. If you were allowed only a civilian's tools to help you in locating them, the task became just about impossible. And on top of everything, he had delayed so long in beginning his search that the 'scent' had long-since cooled. It seemed a truly hopeless business.

And yet, he pressed on. He still loved her. He loved her to the point of pain, and she had to know that. He didn't care how long it took him. She just had to know.

"No, I'm sorry, I can't. Not this Saturday. No, not next Saturday either. No. I hope we can still be friends. Thank very much. Good-bye."

Elizabeth placed the phone back on the hook and met Jane's pointed stare.

"I thought you liked Mark?"

Elizabeth sighed, "I do like him, but..."

"But what?"

She shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know." She gazed out of the window at the dark garden, then added quietly - "I think I'll go for a walk, Jane."

She made her way the toward door.

"When will you be back, Lizzy?" Was Jane's calm inquiry. Lizzy's comment had not surprised her. Ever since she was a teenager, Lizzy had disappeared into the night to 'walk'. No one actually knew where she went or what she did, but whenever she was troubled, she dealt with it in solitude.

"I don't know," Lizzy called over back her shoulder, "Don't wait up for me." The door banged shut behind her. Jane released a tiny sigh, then returned to her task.

Enveloped in darkness, Elizabeth let her feet follow the paths they had trod through many years of troubles. She thought of the phone call she had just received. Another relationship cut off before it could begin.

Why was she pushing these men away? Her traumatic past had left her with only one dream for her future - she wanted a house to create into a home, a child to love, a man to kiss good-bye every morning and hold at night. Had Darcy taken that dream from her? Would she never be able to let another man into her heart?

If Mark calls again, She resolved with herself, I'll go out with him. I like Mark. Mark seems to like me. I have to give myself a chance.

Elizabeth stopped walking and lifted her gaze to the stars, but all she could see was Darcy's face, Darcy's eyes gazing back at her. Her heart ached within her chest.

An incredible loneliness overwhelmed her as she traced his features in the night sky. She couldn't endure this forever.

How much longer will I be alone?

The stars had no answers for her. She whispered his name to the night, and rubbed at her chest as if that might soothe the pain that burned there.

Lizzy forced herself to picture her life as it might one day be. She pictured herself in a park, resting in the sunlight with a baby in her arms. She pictured a man beside her, who would be calm and gentle and supportive. She would learn to love him. She did not allow herself to think of Darcy Williams. He would to become another ghost of her past. He represented nothing now, but regrets.

It was time to forget.

Chapter 25

Posted on Friday, 26 February 1999

19th November

Darcy's eyes followed the letters as they appeared on the screen, spilling across the lines as he read:

Operation: Red Coat

Location: Vancouver

Mission description: .....

It was a fairly routine affair - well, as routine as such missions could be, anyway. He read the message twice, then deleted it, and snapped his lap-top closed. In his mind he was already making calculations. Vancouver - it wasn't too far. He would drive.

After a couple of hours on the road, a soft beep alerted him to a low fuel tank. He swore softly, and began to look out for a gas station. His reprieve came in the form of a large blue sign that announced in bold yellow lettering: "Welcome to Meryton".

The little township was very All-American-quaint, from the flag outside the Town Hall down to the children riding their bikes in the street. Darcy paid the idyllic scenes little attention. He caught sight of his object - a small gas station on a corner - and pulled in.

As he got out the car, he was approached by a young woman with a plain face but an open smile. She emerged from one of the garages, wiping her oily hands on a piece of grubby cloth. The badge pinned to her stained blue overalls read simply "Mary" in large block letters.

"Hi," she greeted him cheerfully. He nodded coolly in acknowledgment, but she didn't even seem to notice - her attention had already turned to his vehicle.

"That is some car!" She enthused, inspecting the gleaming black Merc from every angle. "How much did it set you back?"

"Too much," he replied shortly, unwilling to engage in any detailed conversation.

She looked up when she caught the tone of his voice, then stood up quickly with a small smile. "Sorry," she said, "I'll just fix you up and let you be on your way."

She stepped back from the car and waited for him to begin his business, but he did not move. "Sir?" He was looking at her very strangely. What had she done to offend him?

Suddenly he seemed to shake himself out of his trance. "I'm sorry," He apologised briefly, "For a moment there you... reminded me of someone else. That's all."

He filled the tank of the Merc without any further explanations. The girl busied herself with some task nearby, so that she could continue to admire the beautiful car. The handsome owner was of little real interest to her - cars were her real passion.

Darcy took out his wallet and approached her with the cost of his petrol. He handed over the notes with a slight frown, as if he would like to say something more. The girl accepted the money with polite thanks, and returned a moment later with his receipt. He turned and began to make his way back to his car. With one last wistful look at the Merc, the girl turned back to the garage.

Darcy reached his car and put his hand on the door handle. He stopped. He turned back.

"Miss!" He shouted after the girl's retreating back. She turned to face him, bemused as to what he could possibly want now. He approached her once more. "What did you say your name was?"

She glanced down at her chest. The name tag was still pinned there on broad display. "It's Mary," she replied, her face reflecting her doubts at this strange man's behaviour.

"Mary? Mary who?"

"Bennet..." She replied guardedly.

Darcy tried to calm his pulse rate. He couldn't believe how his heart was pounding.

He swallowed hard, and managed, "I don't suppose... that's any relation... to Elizabeth.... Bennet?"

Mary was a little suspicious. "How do you know Lizzy?"

"I.... We met.... It's hard to explain...." His head was spinning. He couldn't think straight. "Please, please, you have to help me now. You do know her? Medium height, dark brown curls, brown eyes...? You know where she is?"

Mary stared at him with more than a little reserve. "I don't know if I should tell you.... I don't even know who you are."

"My name is Darcy Williams!"

"I've never heard her mention you."

"She wouldn't have mentioned me to anyone."

"Then why should I tell you where she is?"

Darcy tried to check his excited impatience, but a strange mixture of euphoria and desperation was clouding his brain. "Look, I've never begged for anything in my life, but I'm begging you now - please tell me where she is! You don't understand. I've been searching for so long... Here!" He fished his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her, "Take the Merc for a joy-ride! Have the damn thing! I don't care, just tell me how I can find Elizabeth!"

Mary caught the keys with surprise. She looked to the Merc, then back to the earnest desperation of Darcy Williams. "Lizzy... Well, I guess she's at home... No, wait! She went to see Jane and Charles at their place.... But it's eleven o'clock now..." Mary's face was creased with concentration, but her then features brightened as she recalled - "That's right, I remember now. She'll be with Jeff. Probably in the park. You go down this street and turn left, then take the second right - you can't miss it...."

He was gone before she had a chance to explain anything more. She watched him disappear, then looked to the keys in her hand and smiled. She tossed them up and caught them lightly.

Kitty and Lydia have got to find themselves some boyfriends like that!

Chapter 26

Left.... First right.... Second right... Park!

Darcy slowed to a walk and began to catch his breath. It didn't take too long - he had an intensive fitness program to thank for that.

It was a large park which loomed into view - there were trees and shrubbery, an open field for ball games and set of basket-ball courts on the far side. There were bench seats, there was a children's playground - and there was Elizabeth.

His eyes were drawn to her almost immediately. A slight figure sitting alone on a park bench, watching a group of young children at play. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and though he was too far away to judge her expression, he thought she seemed pensive and sad. For a moment he held back and allowed himself a chance to recover from the shock of joy at simply laying eyes on her once more, after so many anguished and lonely months....

He took a few eager steps forward before realising that someone else had the same idea. A tall young man with sandy brown hair appeared, apparently from nowhere. As he approached the seat where Lizzy rested, Darcy heard him call her name and her head jerked up. When she saw the man, her face lit up with a welcoming smile and she stood up to greet him. Darcy realised with a sudden jolt that she had not simply been crossing her arms as she sat, and nor had she been exactly alone. For cradled in her arms he could now see a tiny baby, wrapped in blankets.

The young man greeted Elizabeth with a tender kiss and a huge smile. A cruel knife of realisation began to slide into Darcy's abdomen as he watched them.

The other man said something to Lizzy in a low voice which made her laugh. He then turned his attention to the child she held in her arms, and they shared the intimate giggles and whispers of new parents with their creation.

He could feel his heart harden and contract within him as he watched the idyllic scene unfold. One desperate thought occurred to him - Could it be my child?

But they were such a perfect couple - such joyful smiles, such a sweet baby, such a beautiful life.... And as he watched, he realised that even if the baby was his, he could never demand anything on that score. He was too late. Elizabeth had her dream now. She had the happy, stable life she had longed for. It was a life that he might have been part of, but he had thrown his chance away.

He remembered Mary's words to him as he left the gas station - She'll be with Jeff... He looked to the man who stood with Elizabeth in the sunlight and inwardly, he gave a defeated salute. Make her happy, 'Jeff'... Happier than I ever did.

His gaze turned to Elizabeth. She was smiling blissfully down and the infant in her arms, glancing up now and then to grin at the man who was sharing her delight. Darcy concentrated, memorising her features to imprint them upon his memory forever. This was the last time he would ever see her face. This was his first and only love. This was the sacrifice he would make for her happiness.

He whispered his last words to her in his mind.

"I love you, Elizabeth. Be happy."

And slowly, brokenly, he turned and walked away. He did not look back.

Chapter 27

Posted on Saturday, 27 February 1999

It had started out as a warm morning for a day so late in Autumn, but now, as Elizabeth stood in the gently sunlit park, she felt cold breeze rush over her skin. She shivered involuntarily, and wondered at the goose-bumps which suddenly rose on her forearms. She lifted her head and looked around, but the park was almost deserted, excepting the children shrieking and laughing in the playground and a solitary figure in the distance who was moving slowly away from them.

How odd.

The man beside her looked up as well, and followed her gaze to the man on the other side of the park.

"Do you know him?" He asked curiously.

Elizabeth shook herself from her reflections, and smiled at her companion. "I doubt it. He's too far away for me to be sure. Why?"

The man shrugged lightly, "It's just that I noticed he was staring at us earlier... Then he turned around and just started walking in the other direction."

Elizabeth looked back to man who was walking away. He was almost out of sight. She returned her gaze to the man beside her. "So?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know. Maybe it's just me, but I could swear I've seen him somewhere before."

He frowned as he watched the man disappear out of sight. Lizzy looked at him questioningly.

"You know, if I don't figure this out it's going to drive me crazy. Just wait here. I want to know who that guy was. There was something so damned familiar about him!"

"Well, I'm afraid I can't help you," Lizzy smiled, "You obviously got to see his face - I didn't. But if you really want to catch him, you'd better run. I'll stay here with the baby."

"Cool. Thanks, Liz."

And he set off at jog.

"Excuse me!"

Darcy, deeply immersed in his own dark, heavy thoughts, did not even hear the man. He kept walking.

The second call could not be ignored. "Excuse me!"

He stopped walking and glanced behind him. To his surprise and consternation, he was approached by the light-haired young man from the park, slightly out of breath with his exertion. Darcy could not prevent himself from casting a brief, hopeful glance behind the man, but Elizabeth was no where in sight.

"I'm sorry... To accost you... like this..." The man panted as he slowed to a walk and extended his hand in greeting, "But I noticed you back in the park. I'm absolutely certain we've met before, and I'm just trying to .... Ah ha! I've got it!" Suddenly his face lit up with a broad grin of realisation.

Darcy was still completely at a loss. He wanted nothing to do with this man, and no idea of how to deal with this situation when he did not feel capable any kind of social interaction at all. Ever again.

"You're Darcy Williams, right?" The fairer man grasped his hand shook it warmly, "Charlie Bingley!! We went to College together!"

Darcy looked dispassionately at the man's eager features, and felt a vague memory stir.

"This is great!" Charles was meanwhile enthusing, "You know, you've barely changed at all! What an incredible break us meeting like this, huh? After all these years! Are you married? You must come and meet my wife, she'd love to meet you! And guess what? I'm a new dad! You never would have guessed it, right? Me? A father? I can hardly credit it myself!"

"Congratulations," Darcy murmured quietly, "I wish you every happiness, Jef - I mean, Charles." Hold on, if this is Charles, who is Jeff?

"Thank you! Tell me, how long will you be in the neighbourhood? We could go for a drink, reminisce on old times. You must at least meet my family."

"I'm sorry, Charles, I'm afraid I won't be able to - " Darcy was spared the necessity of finishing his sentence by the sudden appearance of third party to their conversation.

"Charles!" Called a tall blonde woman, hurrying toward the men. Darcy's confusion re-doubled as Charlie caught this new addition around the waist and kissed her lovingly on the cheek.

The woman blushed and smiled, then turned to Darcy. "Please excuse me for interrupting you!" She apologised, "But this husband of mine really is impossible! He tells me he's going out for five minutes just to see Elizabeth and the baby, and ten minutes later I step onto the street to find him chatting amicably with someone else, though he knows that we were supposed to be at the Lucas's by twelve!"

Bingley pretended to look ashamed, but his wide grin spoiled the whole effect. "Darcy Williams, this is my wife - Jane Bennet-Bingley."

Darcy's head was spinning, as the pieces of his world rearranged like fragments colour in a kaleidoscope. "I'm... very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bingley." He mumbled through a haze of shock.

Jane smiled and returned the nicety. "I sincerely hope we will have an opportunity to become better acquainted, Mr. Williams, but right now I'm afraid I must kidnap my husband and fly, or else we shall be late for our lunch appointment."

"It won't matter if we're a little late, will it Jane?" Charles pleaded, "Don't we have time to spend a few more minutes with little Jeff?"

Jane laughed. "You mean, 'Can't I have a few more minutes to show off my progeny to my friend?'! And the answer is 'No', dear. If Mr. Williams is so very eager to become acquainted with our child, then he may go and see Lizzy. Right now, we are running late!"

Bingley smiled apologetically at Darcy. "It seems I've been given my orders. I dare not disobey. Do feel free to go and talk to my sister-in-law, though. Just explain who you are, and she'll be happy for the company, I'm sure!"

"Your sister-in-law...?" Those syllables spelt his reprieve. He hardly dared to believe that they might be true. "That would be the young woman I saw you with in the park a few minutes earlier?" This time, he would be absolutely sure.

"Yes, that's her! She's baby-sitting for us while we - "

"Charles!"

"Yes, I'm coming dear... And I hope we shall meet again soon, Darcy!"

And with that, the happy couple was gone, and Darcy was left alone to wonder at his unexpected and glorious reprieve. Since when did the world look so bright? How was it that the pressure of the pavement had disappeared from beneath his feet? Why was it suddenly so much easier to breathe?

It the truth is to be told, however, he did not spend long upon reflective and thankful prayers. It was not that he was ungrateful. It's just that it's hard to engage in any kind of serious contemplation when your heart is on a kite and your body is just being taken along for the ride.

Darcy turned back for the park.

He had his second chance!

Chapter 27

Elizabeth sat back down on the park seat, and rocked her tiny nephew tenderly in her arms. His sweet new-born face was scrunched up and adorable. Though it was really impossible to tell, she fancied that the boy had inherited his mother's oval face, and his father's patrician nose.

Smiling, she began to whisper to the infant as though he could understand her. It was a pastime she often employed when baby-sitting for her sister. She loved little Jeff with all of her heart, but there was sometimes a tinge of jealousy in what she felt. She was ashamed to admit to that feeling, but she couldn't help envying her sister's happiness just a little when she so wanted a little baby of her own...

"What do you think, sweetie? Will I ever have a little bundle all of my own? Would he be as handsome as you, hmm?" She let him grasp her little finger in his tiny hand, and her smile broadened, then grew sad. "I might have had one like you, you know. For a little while I thought I would. But.... Well, never mind." She was silent for a few moments as she looked down at the infant. Her eyes blurred briefly, but she blinked her grief away and smiled again. "I'm such a fool, honey, your Auntie's such a fool. Only think, if I had been pregnant, what would I have called him? Or her... I know what I would call a boy, but what about a little girl? A little girl with dark eyes like mine, perhaps. And black curls like him. What sort of name would suit her?"

"I've always rather liked the name 'Elizabeth'." Came a soft, serious voice from behind her.

Elizabeth froze.

Her mouth went dry, and she dared not turn around. She clutched the baby so tightly that he gurgled slightly in protest and she had to relax.

Darcy walked around the seat to kneel in front of her.

"Elizabeth?" He questioned softly, looking up into her eyes. She gazed back at him, her dark eyes wide and uncertain, overflowing with doubts and disbelief and shock. She could not speak.

He reached up as though he might touch her face, but stopped himself just in time and let his hand drop once more. "Elizabeth, there is something I need to tell you." He did not look away. He held her gaze steadily, trying to communicate his soul to her when words could not.

"Perhaps... Perhaps I have... no right to say this now after some of the things I've done... What I said... But will you hear me out, Elizabeth?"

There was a pause as Lizzy tried to reply, but no words would come. She nodded slightly, and closed her eyes tight.

"Elizabeth. Please, you have to look at me."

She opened her eyes again, and tears spilled over her cheeks. Darcy reached up and gently brushed them away. He knew exactly what he wanted to say to her. The words he had spoken to her so many times in dreams now formed on his lips as he gazed deep into her eyes.

"Elizabeth, I love you. I don't care who you are or what you've done. I love you."

Please believe me. Please understand. I love you.

"Elizabeth?"

She seemed yet incapable of speech. "I - " she struggled, but the words caught in her throat, "Darcy, I - " And suddenly she began to cry in earnest, sobs racking her whole body as months of repressed emotion and heart-ache overwhelmed her. Without a word, Darcy rose to his feet and gathered her into his arms, holding her as close as he could without crushing the baby she still clutched against her.

He felt a wave of joy envelop him as he held her in his embrace at last. It was the way they were meant to be, he knew. With Elizabeth in his arms, he was completed. He was content. Everything that was wrong became all right again. His fingers stroked her hair as he whispered to her. She pressed her face against his shoulder and cried on.

At last her sobs seemed to subside a little, and she lifted her tear-stained face away from his shirt, wanting to finish what she had been trying to say. His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb wiped gently at her tears.

"Darcy. Darcy, I - " And yet again, the words would not come. She let herself be hypnotised by those loving brown eyes, and every coherent thought fled as he leaned forward, very slowly, and let his lips brush hers in the lightest, tenderest of kisses.

She gasped as the thrill swept over her skin and sent a shiver through her soul. His mouth left hers for a moment, and as she exhaled he heard her whisper the three words that made him hers forevermore.

"I love you..."

He kissed her again.

Chapter 28

Posted on Friday, 5 March 1999

"Darling, I have some bad news. Please sit down. This won't be easy for you to hear... I've been meaning to tell you for some weeks now. I just didn't know how... But the fact is, I've got cancer."

"NO ! "

He nodded slowly. Her eyes were filling with tears of pain and shock. "How - how long - "

"Six months. At best."

She choked back a sob. "And at worst?"

"Three months. Maybe four."

She jumped up with a start and walked away from him, hiding her face in her hands. She looked as if she might say something more - but then the screen blinked and her image was replaced by a detergent commercial.

"Hey, I was watching that," Elizabeth complained, slapping her husband gently on the leg. He smiled unrepentantly and flicked again.

"Men and remotes! I don't know!" She sighed, and lifted his arm from around her shoulder to stand up and stretch her stiffening muscles. She released a tiny squeal when he caught her from behind and pulled her down once more, this time into his lap.

When Elizabeth surfaced again about ten minutes later, she was breathing heavily and her hair was slightly disheveled. She giggled softly and rested her forehead against his, while he caressed the nape of her neck with one hand.

Her smile faded a little as his touch sent a delicious shudder all the way down her spine. "Don't leave tomorrow..." She mumbled, slightly incoherent.

He kissed her nose. "You know I don't have a choice. Besides, it's only six days - a short assignment."

"Only six days? And anyway, that's what you said last time, and then you were gone for a week and half. Can't I come with you?"

He laughed softly. "Lizzy... You know it's too dangerous."

Elizabeth did not laugh. "I know that it's dangerous! That's my whole point. You don't know what it's like being the one left behind! You don't know what it's like to lie awake in an empty bed wondering if your love is being shot at, or if they're bleeding death in some alley as you speak, or if - "

"Elizabeth!" He chided her gently, inter-lacing his fingers with hers, "I'm sure we've been over this before. You knew from the start that it wouldn't be easy being married to someone like me. And I can appreciate how difficult things are for you, being 'left behind' as you put it. But I'm afraid there is no solution - it is just what I do." He paused, and looked deeply into her eyes. He spoke very seriously. "Elizabeth, if my occupation is truly making you miserable, then I will resign. I will do that for you. You know that."

She held his gaze, and her heart swelled with love for him that he should be willing to make such a sacrifice for her... But it was not what she wanted. She knew that his job was important to him, that he would never be happy doing anything else. So she shook her head, and thanked him for his noble offer with another soft kiss.

"I would not ask you to resign..."

"But?" He always knew when there was something else she wanted to say.

"But I do think there is a solution."

"And what's that?"

Elizabeth climbed out of his lap, and he reluctantly let her go.

"Stand up," She demanded, flicking off the television and standing before him in the middle of the living room. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, but he complied.

"Now," she continued, "I want you to hit me."

"What?"

"You heard me. No - no wait, I've got a better idea. Come at me from behind. Don't look at me like that, just do it."

Darcy shrugged, and made to pin her arms to her sides. Moments later, after a brief scuffle and a heavy thud, he found himself laid flat on the rug with her knee resting on his chest and her hands securing each of his wrists against the floor. She grinned down into his face, and he saw a look of meaningful triumph in her eyes. Suddenly, it dawned upon him what that look meant.

"Oh no, Elizabeth! No way! Never!"

She let him up. "Why not?"

"Because..." He struggled, trying to remember all the reasons.

"Because?" She encouraged, pointedly.

"For a start, Louie would never agree!"

"He might when he knows that I can beat you in a fight! In fact, he might give me your job! I could put you out of work." She grinned, but he was serious.

"It's much too dangerous. What if you were hurt again?"

"Ahem. Are you forgetting that I have to live with that worry every time you step out that door? If it's not too dangerous for you, then how is it too dangerous for me? Don't use a double-standard."

"We're married! How can we be partners if we're married?"

"I suggest you think over that sentence again, if you want to turn it into a feasible argument."

"I thought you wanted to live a settled life now? I thought... I thought we wanted a baby?"

"Yes, we do. But at the same time, I don't want to raise him or her on my own as a young widow. I've thought about all of this, Darcy. There will be plenty of time for children later. I'm starting to get restless. I think I've lived on the edge for too long - I seem to be going through adrenaline-withdrawal." She tried to smile, but the effect was contradicted by her troubled frown. Her voice softened. "Look, I thought I knew what I wanted, but I think that I may have been wrong. Right now, I only want to be with you. I'm know that I'm capable - and I want to help you. I don't want to be sitting alone is this empty house when you go away on assignments, just waiting to get a knock on the door and find some stranger telling me that my husband has been killed in the line of duty. Those are the kind of nightmares that haunt me when you go... So let me come with you. Give me a chance to prove myself."

Darcy's brow was deeply furrowed as he regarded her with uncertainty. He said nothing, and for a few minutes silence descended. Elizabeth silently crossed her fingers and waited for his verdict.

Finally, he spoke - "OK, come with me tomorrow."

The breath she had been holding exploded from her lungs and she yelled out in delight.

"But only this once! This is just a trial!" He reminded her, raising his voice over her happy exclamations.

Elizabeth agreed readily. A trial would satisfy her. If she decided that this was the course she wanted to pursue, then her determination would ensure that nothing got in her way. If things didn't work out, well, it was not a wasted experiment - she would know her limits and she would have to turn her restless attentions elsewhere.

"You won't regret it!" She smiled up at him, and slipped into his embrace. He held her tightly, as if her were afraid for her already.

She pushed herself onto tip-toes and whispered in his ear - "Now, do I have to go back to my TV show, or can you think of some more interesting way of finishing the evening?" He gave a half-smile and pushed her back to look into her beloved face.

"I love you - you know that, don't you?"

She nodded, and he kissed her deeply.

She soon had the answer to her question - the television became an obsolete means of entertainment.

Epilogue

The last echoes of gunfire faded away into the silence of the empty warehouse.

Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy slipped her gun away, resisting a crazy urge to blow on the tip. She was a little pale with nervous excitement, but her hands were steady as she turned to Darcy and grinned. They were crouched behind an old steel container by the entrance of the disused warehouse. He motioned for her to stay down, then stood up very slowly. A few moments later, he offered his hand and she got to her feet to join him.

"That was the last of them." She informed him shortly.

"I think you're right - but how are you so sure?"

"I counted them. There were five in the car, one jumped and made a run for the river but you caught him. I hit two outside, and the other two went down in here."

"Good. That's it then. We'll report back to Louie tonight."

He started to walk away. Elizabeth didn't move. He stopped and turned back to face her.

"Well?" She demanded, cryptically.

"Well what?"

"Well does this make us partners now?"

He grinned, then drawled dryly - "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

She narrowed her eyes and approached him with mock-menace. "Don't you ever call me sweetheart!" She made as if to hit him but he caught her hand and held it in his.

"So answer my question: are we partners?"

"Yes, Elizabeth," he smiled lovingly, and kissed her, "We always were."

The End

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