To Cry; Or Friends And Brothers

Chapter 1

He sat, awaiting the call that would inevitably come. His family, he knew, wasn't even thinking of it, except maybe his oldest brother, who on occasion would leave the fray and check in on him. They were all at his parents' house, and everyone was getting ready for a big election party his father was putting on. There would be people and drinks and food, and of course the television—the flatscreen 42 inch which his father had finally gotten to congratulate himself on his latest tenure—would remain on until the winner of the presidential election was announced. As long as it's not like the last one, he thought, remembering the night four years ago when his father had gotten a little too into his cups.

Deep into his thoughts as he was, it took him a while to hear the faint buzzing sound, and feel the phone vibrating at his hip. He grabbed it, placing it next to his ear. “Bennet.” After a few seconds he flipped the chrome phone closed, replacing it on his hip. No matter when it came, he knew someplace inside him that it would be too soon, anytime was too soon. Strange sentiment, he knew, in his profession, but he was still human and humans still had their folly in logic and reason.

He stood, looking around the room he'd shared with his twin brother Jean, when they'd lived with their parents. He hadn't moved very far away, none of the brothers had, and it always felt good to know that whatever happened his parents would be there to take them in. It felt good to have family so near, especially with the news he was about to break to everyone when they were in such high spirits. He hated to be the one to put such a damper on the party. And it hadn't even started yet. Of course, his parents would continue and hold it for their neighborhood friends as planned. They were known for having one of the biggest election bashes on Capitol Hill. But that didn't mean the atmosphere would be the same. No, indeed, things would be different from last year.

Taking one last glance around the old room that he very well might not see again for some time, if at all, he took a deep, shuddering breath and walked towards the door, preparing to shatter the happiness of the entire group waiting on the other side and down the stairs.

*.*.*

Eli Bennet had been standing outside his brother's door for quite some time, worried that something might be wrong. Richard had been sitting in that room for over an hour now, and told no one the reason why. Of course, Eli had his assumptions, but no one could really know if it was a personal or professional matter. Richard, he knew, was not one to mope over anything trivial, like the loss of a girl or anything of that sort, but he was starting to feel he didn't know his brother anymore. He'd been so different, lately, so quiet. And there was nothing he felt he could do about it.

Pulling a few long strands of chestnut from in his eyes, Eli turned towards the door, staring at it, seeming to be willing it to open. Moments later it did, and Eli almost didn't recognize the person staring out of the door. He'd been used to the buzzed haircut for years, but the drawn look in his chocolate eyes, the hollowness of his jaw, the paleness of his skin, Richard hadn't seemed like this when he went in the room. Something must have happened while he was in there, though he'd heard nothing to be alarmed about. The eyes pled with him not to say anything, simply to remain quiet and follow him as he walked past.

Richard was a bit shorter than Eli's six foot three, but his carriage was much better, after his training, which made him appear taller than the elder man. Eli watched his brother's back, which for the first time in eight years appeared to be stooped, either in pain or despair. Even Eli, knowing his brother as he did, could not figure the problem. There hadn't been one when he'd gone into his old bedroom. Was he merely feeling nostalgic while in the room and thus wishing to return to his olden days? Or had something happened in there which he was unaware of, some type of self-realization or discovery? Something utterly and completely unconcerned with either? What was wrong with him?

*.*.*

Dr. E. James Bennet watched his family shuffling about the house while standing in the middle of it all. The front hall, which had been set up as a place for coats and other outerwear, was a great vantage point for watching his boys run at his wife's every beck and call. Even though he spent endless hours on campus doing nothing but people watching, it was an even better experience doing it within his own home. This is what always happened when all seven of them were in his house at once. Though he noticed that it appeared there were only five of them on the floor at present. Eli and Ritchie, as always. I wonder what happened to those two. Probably found some old stuff to mess around with. I suppose they'll find their way back down eventually. I just hope it's before the new president-elect is announced. He looked at his watch, realizing that it was almost time for his first guests to arrive, and did a round of the house to make sure everything was in the correct place. He went into the living room, saw that everything was in order, and moved back towards the dining room, divided from the other room by three feet of wall. He loved the open space of a row house. Continuing back, he headed towards the kitchen, where his wife was bustling about, “asking” the boys in a very commanding type of voice to do a last minute double-check of things.

“It's alright, my dear, everything's done. I just double checked. Let the boys rest for a while.” He massaged her shoulders, willing her to consent.

Eadyth Bennet turned and looked at her husband, thankful that she'd married this man. At well over fifty, he still only had silvered at the temples, giving him a distinguished look. All her sons took after him in height and build, if not in coloring. His black hair had only come through on her youngest, Geoffrey. The others had an array of lighter colored hair. There was Henry—Eadyth snapped out of her reverie on the hair colors of her wonderful family and moved to tell her sons to rest a bit.

At her word, Geoffrey, Henry and Jean all plopped down onto the nearest couch or chair.

It was Geoffrey who spoke first. “Thanks, Mom. You were running us ragged, you know.”

She smiled. “Well you for one deserve to be run ragged. I haven't heard anything from you about being running ragged at that school you're going to. And you're almost done, you should be worse for wear, like your brothers all were.” The smile in her eyes and which soon graced her lips belied the harshness of her words. “But it's alright, kid, I still love you most.” She pecked him on the forehead, ruffling his glossy black curls.

“And you wonder why the Plantagenets invented sibling rivalry,” Dr. Bennet muttered under his breath. Wasn't that how Eleanor of Aquitaine did it? Expressing her love for each of her sons and turning them against each other to fight for it? Those boys definitely did so in their younger years, if they were more reserved about doing such now in their adulthood.

He was about to say something to the present family members about such when he heard dragging footsteps on the first flight of stairs. It was wonderful, having a three story house, as one could know when someone was coming from the top level and be prepared for them when they finally reached the lower.

But those are not the footsteps of either of my other sons. Have they been possessed by some outer being? Both of those boys run down the steps, usually, or at least hop. Something is very wrong. Dr. Bennet had no problem calling his sons boys, even if they were all over the age of twenty. But right now it appeared there was a crisis he had to deal with. If his two oldest boys were in dour moods, something was most definitely wrong. They weren't exactly chipper, but they were often in good moods, telling stories of colleagues, friends, students, the like. Dr. Bennet had the vaguest inkling of what was going on, but he prayed God that that was not the case at all, that he was way off base.

When he caught the eyes of his second son, he wasn't so sure.

He moved his way toward the front hall, as the boys had gone into and back out of his eyesight when they passed by the living room entrance on the stairs.

He approached the two, who looked at him as though they'd both seen a ghost. His Ritchie's eyes looked hollow, and Dr. Bennet swore he was staring straight through them. Eli wasn't looking much better, but he at least held some hope in his eyes, holding probably the same expression the professor hoped he held. He walked up between them and put an arm around each set of wide shoulders, ushering them into the living room so the three of them could sit on the couch. Eli went willingly, but Richard appeared to not have even noticed he was moving. With this type of expression you'd think the wrong candidate had already been announced.

After seeing—and feeling, in Jean's case—Richard's expression, they all moved towards him, looking for all the world like a pack of wolves swarming towards their prey. Their expressions, however, were sympathetic.

Because Eli hadn't heard a word come from his younger brother's mouth since he came from his old bedroom, not even he was expecting the words that came from Richard's mouth.

“I have thirty days.”

*.*.*

After the initial shock had passed, the seven all sat down in available seats in the living room and began questioning their target.

“Why thirty days? I mean, I don't want you to go any sooner, but don't they usually tell you to pack up and be ready at dawn, or something like that?” Henry really had no type of tact that the rest of the family was aware of, but this was something every one of them had wondered, so no one spoke to him about speaking in that way.

Richard sighed, leaning forward and dropping his chin into one palm. “I don't know. I guess someone in the national government has a heart and decided to let us all be here for Thanksgiving. We deploy three days after that.”

“What right do they have, taking my Ritchie away from me right after Thanksgiving, less than a month before Christmas? Why do they do things in this way? They could at least have the decency to wait till after the New Year, I'm sure they aren't sending their own—“

“Mom, I gave them that right when I enrolled in the Naval Academy. I go where they tell me to go.”

“But—“

“Eadyth, dear, why don't we simply use this time to enjoy our children while they're here and bemoan the government when they elect the wrong person, hmm?”

“Yeah, Mom, you sit right here with Ritchie and I'll make you a whiskey sour, huh?”

Eadyth smiled. That was her Jean, always taking care of her. Her sons and husband loved her, but no one took care of her like Jean. He was there for her any time she needed him. And he lived just up the street, always available to help in any way. “Thank you, sweetie, I'd love that.”

Jean smiled. His mother was a little erratic at times, but he loved her dearly. He and Richard took after her the most in coloring, with slightly olive skin, curly dark brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. Her hair, while still curly and brown, was beginning to sprout silver tendrils in the front, all of which looked like they appeared over night, which might have been true, what with all the work she did with planning this party. At least she didn't make the invitations this year, having relied solely on e-vites and word of mouth from her sons and husband to neighbors and colleagues.

He brought her her drink and went back to sit next to his twin brother, whose back he pat sympathetically. The two shared a look which said many things which did not have to be spoken.

*.*.*

The family had calmed and were sitting around the coffee table sharing tales of the last few days when they were startled by the sound of the doorbell.

“Wow. I almost forgot we were having a party. Well, family, be prepared for the rabble.” With that Dr. Bennet got up and left the living room to answer the door.

Seconds later, he returned, with two familiar faces behind him. “Well, it looks like dear Charlotte and William are the first to arrive. They don't seem too happy about it.”

Charlotte and William Lucas lived two houses down across the street from the Bennets. Charlotte had grown up there and when her parents decided to be world travelers she'd moved back into the old house on Capitol Hill with her husband. It seemed to be a much better convenience to both of them, one of whom worked on the hill and being so close to the metro, the other's transportation of choice.

“Oh, what do you mean, Dr. Bennet, of course we're not happy about it, no one's ever happy about being the first to arrive, it means you can't make an entrance.”

The family assembled snickered with the couple, and the pair joined the group sitting around the television.

“Any news yet?”

“Nope. There're some preliminary ideas from Fox News but I won't listen until the real decisions.”

Charlotte laughed. “I guess that means they're suggesting the wrong candidate.”

Eli joined her. “Indeed.”

This sort of banter continued as guests began to fill the space in the living room. Eli wondered just how many people were present and how many more this house could hold. He could swear he heard the foundations creaking. He began to edge himself towards the front hall to get out into the cool November air when the doorbell rang again. Shouting that he'd get it, he strolled the yard and a half to the front door, which he opened to see two dark haired bundles that did not look familiar.

He could see nothing but their eyes. The one on the left had steel colored eyes, but instead of the hardness of metal that one might expect to come from that color, they expressed more than the usual amount of warmth. The one on the right had violet eyes, and appeared to be female. But he couldn't be completely certain. Whichever way, they didn't look happy.

The one on the left pulled down his scarf and began to speak with an indeterminate accent. “Sorry. Charlie Bingley and Felicity Darcy, we just moved in next door. Dr. Bennet invited us.” He looked around. “Frightfully cold night for the beginning of November, isn't it?”

Taking that as a cue to let them in, he moved aside. “Sorry about that. You can put your coats over there. I'll just tell my dad you're here.” At that Eli walked back into the fray. Something about those violet eyes had really disconcerted him. He could not figure it out for his life.

After telling his father about their newest guests, he turned back to watch the room at large. He was stunned at the image of the pair standing in the living room's doorway. He—Charlie—was relatively short, with thick dark hair hanging over the eyes that he'd seen on the left side of the front stoop. He wore an ash gray pinstripe suit, Eli was guessing it the one he'd worn to work, and a white cotton shirt with the top button undone. He was already smiling. She—what was her name? Felicia?—She had her dark hair pulled back in some sort of chignon and wore a sleeveless black turtleneck sweater and gray slacks. Severe, this one. Her striking features added to the severity of her look, although no one could say she wasn't beautiful. She'd probably be a lot more beautiful if she cracked that little face of hers. For she was small. No taller than five foot five, she also had a petite build. But boy, is she curvy.

Chapter 2

“Bingley!”

“Bennet!”

Jean had thought he'd recognized one of the newcomers, but it wasn't until he'd gotten closer that he was certain. “What are you doing here?”

Charlie smiled. “I was invited by Dr. Bennet! I can only suppose he's your father?” He allowed Jean to lead him further into the room, leaving Felicity at the entranceway to the living room area, leaning against the jamb.

She was not particularly happy with her best friend right now. Charlie had insisted on bringing her to this madhouse when she'd adamantly pleaded not to go. It was no matter that it had been an invitation given by someone she hadn't even met three days after they'd moved into their row house. It was a party, probably given by a liberal, for liberals, rooting for the liberal candidate, she was sure. And while she was open for everyone having their beliefs, she wasn't too keen on being surrounded by people who all shared one thing—they were the complete opposites of her.

The smiling pair, however, were enjoying themselves and learning quite a bit in their conversation.

“I had no idea you were related to Dr. Bennet. I know it's the same name but how many Bennets could there be in the entire DC Metropolitan Area? There've got to be hundreds, and, wonder of wonders, I turn up on your doorstep! So he is your father, right? You're too young to be any other relation.”

Jean smiled that dazzling smile of his, turning to watch his father, in ardent conversation by the television. After a few seconds, he turned back to his present companion, and nodded. “Yep, that's my dad. My Mom's the adorable little woman running back and forth all over the place, going to everyone she knows is engaged in important conversation and asking if they need anything—“ just as he was completing the sentence, Eadyth herself walked up to the gentlemen and asked “you boys need anything?” to the amusement of Charlie—“I think you met my oldest brother, tall, well, taller than me anyway, long brown hair, tendency to disappear faster than you can say legislation? Yeah, I think he moved towards the food. My brother Ritchie, you'll never miss, he looks just like me, except that beautiful hair he had in childhood is no more and now he's got less than half an inch of stubble all over his head. His choice, been in the military for years now, but won't even grow it out to regulated length. Says he can't control it. Shame really. But of course, then you might not be able to tell us apart, and that could get somebody in trouble.” Charlie smiled. “My two younger brothers are around here somewhere, probably also hanging around the food, or escaped to healthier pastures.” Looking at Charlie's smiling eyes, Jean's widened as he realized how much he'd been talking. “Geez, I've been talking your ear off, haven't I? I guess you want to get back over to your date? She looks a bit bored.”

Charlie looked back at Felicity, who was still leaning against the jamb of the living room entrance. He hadn't even thought of her as a date, and hadn't assumed anyone else would, until Jean said something. “Felicity? Oh, I guess she would qualify as a date. But it's not like that, really. I mean, we live together—or better, we live in the same house, but we've been friends since high school. She was invited, but I don't think she really wanted to come. Not a big party person, that one.” Jean smiled. He was strangely happy to hear that Charlie and Felicity were not here as anything more than friends. “But me,” Charlie continued, giving Jean a lopsided grin, “I love to party. She just doesn't understand the thrill of it all!” With one last grin, he excused himself and went to see what was wrong with Felicity.

Felicity had watched the pair's discourse from the edge of the room and did not particularly like what she saw. Indeed, she did not like it at all.

*.*.*

“Fee! What are you doing over here, wallowing on the edge of the room? This is a party; you're supposed to be meeting your neighbors! The least you could do is speak to someone! You didn't even speak to that fine looking young gentleman who opened the door. He happens to be—“

“If it's that tall, unattractive Cro-Magnon Man that you are speaking of, I don't see why you even start! He looks coarse, his hair's too long and his caveman abilities to speak to guests are appalling. We even had to wait, outside, until you subtly requested to enter the house. Whatever it was that made you think I'd be willing to stand near that man, let alone speak to him is beyond me.”

Charlie, sensing trouble might be underfoot, began to usher his friend into the room. “I will not have you thinking this way about our hosts, my dear, and the least you could do is introduce yourself to our most esteemed host.”

He stopped speaking when, looking at Fee, he saw that she was staring at something above his head, jaw hanging in a very unladylike manner. She stayed there, silent, until she began to subconsciously clear her throat. It scared Charlie a bit, as the only person he'd seen her react to in this manner was her father. It was then that he heard the baritone voice speak in front of him.

“We've met.”

*.*.*

Eli was headed out for some air when he heard himself being spoken of by an unfamiliar voice. At least it sounded like it was him being spoken of, though no name was mentioned. But of course, neither party in the conversation knew what his name was. In the hallway somewhere between the entrance to the living room and the dining room, uncertain of whether to go out into the back yard or the front porch, he'd settled for the solitude allowed there. He hadn't heard the first part of the conversation, but he did hear the severe curvy lady—what was her name?—call him an unattractive Cro-Magnon man and say some other unsavory things about him in a haughty tone with a clipped English accent. His mother had taught him better than to eavesdrop, but if it was about him he had the right to hear it, right?

He slowly moved back towards the kitchen entrance, making sure that he wasn't caught in the sights of any of the other guests or the ones whose conversation he happened to overhear. Once outside he took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “His hair's too long…” What right did she have to decide whose hair was the right length? He liked his hair the length he grew it out to. He had no plans to cut it anytime soon, and planned on letting it grow until it would not grow anymore. Too long. It was barely six inches past his shoulders! “He looks coarse…” Coarse! Define coarse! He looked down at himself. So he wasn't dressed in one of those snazzy suits like Charlie was wearing, but he looked presentable. He was wearing a pair of gray slacks and a midnight blue cotton shirt, tieless and a button undone. How exactly was that coarse? So the sleeves were rolled up over his forearms, but he'd had a long day. Why am I even dwelling on it? He barely ever thought about his appearance when he wasn't running through his closet in the morning, hair dripping and towel around his waist, looking for something to wear to work. He hadn't seen time to date recently, so he'd never had to look anything besides presentable, sometimes nice.

He continued to dwell on Miss Darcy's—he refused to continue attempting to remember her first name—grievances with his person until he was interrupted by a “there you are” coming from the kitchen entrance. He turned to see his mother leaning against the back door, separated from him by the screen door that let in the autumn air while keeping the bugs out.

“I was wondering what happened to you,” she said, remaining in the warmth of the kitchen.

He stayed where he was, listening to the November sounds of Capitol Hill, insects, cars, sirens and all. He breathed in and held it for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly. “I'm sorry I didn't tell anyone that I was coming out here, but I needed some fresh air. The crowd in there is suffocating. I don't remember this many people being here last time we had an election party, and I don't remember this many people here anytime you two hosted a party. Why so different this year?”

His mother laughed. “I'm not sure, dear. I only invited a few of the people here, all the others are either neighbors, friends of your father's or friends of your brothers. I'm just glad you didn't invite anyone, I don't think the foundation could stand it.” The pair shared a smile and Eadyth turned to hear someone calling her name. “Well, should I tell anyone you're out here?”

He thought for a moment. “Only if it's Charlotte or the twins. I don't think I could handle anyone else right now.”

She nodded and turned to speak to the guest who had called her.

*.*.*

Charlie turned around to be staring into the clefted chin of Dr. E James Bennet. Slowly moving his face upwards in order to be looking into his eyes, he stuck his hand out in the space between the two men. “Dr. Bennet, it's good to see you again. This is my best friend from home, the one I told you about.” He moved so that he was not between the two. “Dr. Bennet, Felicity—“

“Darcy, yes I know.” He held out his hand to her, which she hesitantly took. She dearly hoped he hadn't heard her speech just now, for she was certain that tall brute had been his son. Now that she thought about it, the pair shared a similar height and build. No one liked to hear a relative stranger speak ill of their child in their home. Even if it is true, she thought.

“Dr. Bennet. It is always good to see you sir. I hadn't even an inkling that the Dr. Bennet of Georgetown and the Dr. Bennet Charlie had been speaking so highly of for the past few days were one in the same. Charlie,” she turned to speak directly to him. “Dr. Bennet is the head of the History Department at Georgetown. He was also my advisor when I went there.” She turned back to Dr. Bennet. “Thank you for inviting me, sir,” she said formally. “If you don't mind, I'd like to get myself a drink. Pardon me.” At this she turned towards the dining room, weaving her way through clumps of people having conversations in the Bennets' spacious living room. The table was surrounded by people, and Felicity was having a difficult time getting to the table. All she wanted was something to drink. Water would suffice, though she cared for something stronger.

“Need some help?”

She turned behind her towards the voice, to see the man Charlie had been speaking to earlier. She smiled gratefully as he cleared the way to the drinks section of the table. After ensuring that she got the drink that she came for, he helped her to make her way out of the throng that had once again enclosed the table.

Once they were secure on the edges of the throng, she stopped and turned to him. She looked up into his kind eyes and curved her lips in the slightest smile. “Thank you. I don't know if I'd have survived that crowd without you.” She held out her hand. “Felicity Darcy. I'm here with Charlie.”

He took her hand and smiled. “Yes, I know. Jean Bennet. I used to live here, but now I live a few blocks away.” Felicity nodded and looked around. “I believe Charlie is still talking to my father—no, wait, he's coming over here.” Jean smiled as Charlie approached them from the connecting room.

“Ah,” he said, once he'd passed through the last group of chatters before reaching them. “I see you've met. Fee, Jean works in the Canon building*, right down the hall from my new offices.”

“Oh. What do you do Jean?” For some reason she wished to learn about this man who Charlie apparently knew so much about.

He smiled again. He was a smiler, something you didn't see much on the hill, she thought to herself. Politicians were so serious. “I'm an aide for Congressman Gardiner, of Massachusetts. I just started a few months ago.”

“Well I'm glad we had the chance to meet, and I hope we will in the future.” There, I've done my duty as Charlie's best friend. It wasn't that she didn't like Jean. It was merely that she hated screening all of Charlie's possible boyfriends. If she approved, she gave some indication to Charlie. Usually it was saying something about seeing them again. If not, it was just a handshake or a nice to meet you. Sometimes both, but not often.

“Is there someplace I can go to get some air?”

Jean directed her to the kitchen door and returned to conversation with Charlie. It seemed that when he was able he wasn't far from Charlie's side. Or was it the other way around? Did Charlie maintain connection with Jean? How close were they? If they had been close enough the least that one would know was where the other one lived. So they weren't that close. Yet. But how long would it be before they were close? Sleeping together? Living together? Pushing her out and moving her into solitude while they lived in cozy companionship? Whoa there, Felicity, you're moving quite a bit ahead of yourself there. They've only just met.

So caught up in her thoughts was she that she didn't notice that there was someone else in the back yard until she nearly ran him down.

“Excuse me—“

“I'm sor—“

The pair turned, each to see the object they collided with. Looking up, Felicity swore she saw something she couldn't make out run through the eyes of the much taller man. Primitive indeed, she thought to herself. Whether friend or foe, she could not tell. He hadn't spoken since he'd started to apologize, merely stood there looking at her. Eli, on the other hand, hadn't heard an apology from this little woman, and noticed that she didn't mention watching where she was going next time. The pair shared eye contact until Felicity broke it, turning to sip her drink, which she'd brought with her.

Attempting to ignore her present company, Felicity turned to admire the small paradise the Bennets had made with their back yard. There wasn't much space to work with, but the plot had a few yards of fresh green grass, with plenty of colorful, late blooming flowers and even a small fountain. There was a shed way in the back She was standing on a patio of sorts, concrete and at the same ground level as the rest of the yard, but it was nicely decorated with a round wooden table and a few wicker chairs. She supposed there was a cellar entrance somewhere, but hidden well either by decoration or by the darkness.

Soon enough, one of the wicker chairs was occupied by her unwanted companion, and something pushed her to ask to sit down.

“Why would I mind? You're a guest.”

She nodded and took a seat on the other side, placing her drink on the table. She breathed in the night air, and only then realized how cold it was outside. She shivered.

“Cold?” Eli was smiling. It wasn't that cold out here, by any standards, but it was brisk.

“I'm used to the cold, but this is biting.”

“Perhaps you should have brought your jacket with you.”

She turned to look at him. “Perhaps I should have. But I didn't want to.”

Eli shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He began to whistle, what she didn't know. She didn't particularly care, it was just slightly annoying and worth bearing for the peacefulness after enduring the crowds in there. When he began to accompany his whistling with the drumming of his fingers on the table, Felicity couldn't take it anymore. Banging her fist on the table, she stood, glaring down at him.

“What is wrong with you? Can't you just leave me in peace?”

He'd stopped whistling when she banged her fist, annoyed, but was now more amused than annoyed. “Leave you in peace? If I remember correctly, Miss Darcy, I was out here first.”

Harumphing, she crossed her arms about her chest. “Well then, Mister Bennet, if we cannot enjoy the silence together, then I will leave you to your plebian habits.”

Turning to leave, she almost stumbled into the doorway when she heard him laughingly say “It's good to know I'm moving forward in your timeline, Miss Darcy. Maybe one day I'll make it to modern day homo-sapien.”

Rushing into the house, Felicity moved towards the comfort of a refilled drink and the company of Charlie, Jean and Dr. Bennet.

*.*.*

The night hadn't been so bad. Most of the guests had left before the new president-elect was announced because they had work in the morning and the decision was coming very late in the night, but there were a select few who remained till the end.

Charlie, who should have been meeting with his fellow congressmen from Vermont had been upstairs communicating with them by way of cell phone conference call. After submitting his opinion and vote, he returned downstairs to Jean's side. As the numbers slowly dwindled, the pair, who had found an uninhabited side of the room to get to know each other better, decided they both best be going to their respective homes, in order not to miss work the next morning, or more, later that morning, as the clock was preparing to strike one. Once Charlie declared his intention to leave, Jean immediately decided it was his quitting time as well. As Charlie's house was in the same direction as Jean's, he saw no problem in walking with the pair the twenty yards to their house and continuing to his own apartment not two blocks away.

After collecting Felicity, who had once again engaged in conversation with Dr. Bennet, they set off for home. Felicity, kind friend that she was, walked ahead, sure that she would have the door unlocked and opened and herself inside before Charlie and Jean even reached the front gate. Finding her assumption to prove correct, she took one last look at the pair and worked her way up to her rooms.

Kicking off her heels and working her way out of her clothing, Felicity went to her chest of drawers to pull out a pair of silk pajamas. The last thing she did before climbing into bed was sit at her vanity and pull the pins from her chignon, shaking her head a bit to allow her hair to fall down over her shoulders. Just as she did every night, she examined every aspect of her face, her hair, her neck, and seeing no issues with them—for now, anyway—she went to sleep.

*.*.*

“Jean, could I walk you home?”

The pair were standing just outside of Charlie's front gate, where the two had been speaking for a number of minutes.

“Charlie, I couldn't ask you to do that.” It was late and Jean had already taken up so much of Charlie's time—not that he was regretting one minute of it. But now that the pair had been inseparable for hours, with a few short exceptions, it felt terrible to break apart.

“You didn't ask me. So let's go. Where are we headed?”

The pair began walking with Jean's lead, talking about growing up and life at work, finding that the walk to Jean's apartment was much too short. It was a quaint apartment house, with a manicured lawn and a name over the door, and Charlie just loved it. He'd felt almost as though this had been a straight date, talking all night and walking your date to their door, shyly saying goodnight as the other was halfway inside and halfway out. He wanted to beg to come inside, but didn't want to do anything to harm a new relationship. Because Charlie knew that a new relationship is what had been formed here, now, not caring the gender of either person, only caring about attraction, connection, all those aspects that create the most lasting relationships that could ever exist.

While Jean was unlocking the door, Charlie was resisting the urge to do anything at all that would hurt his chances at long-term happiness, so he began to speak again.

“The Longbourn, huh? Well, I know I can't miss it.” Seeing that the door was open and Jean was turning to say his goodnights, Charlie asked another question. “What time do you have to be in in the morning?”

“Usually I get there around nine. Sometimes a little earlier and sometimes a little later.”

“Mmm.” Charlie began rubbing his chin, his hair falling over his left eye. “And you walk?”

Jean smiled. “Yeah. I might as well get some exercise each day.” Smiling, he headed into the building. Before closing the door, he turned back around “Goodnight, Charlie. I'll see you in the morning.”

*The Canon Building is the office building for congressmen who have less seniority (most of the time) in their positions. All creations from this point about congressional law and persons are completely fabricated unless noted otherwise.

Chapter 3

With all but the elder Bennets, the four remaining brothers and the Lucases left, Dr. Bennet decided it was time to close up shop. It was already well into the night and everyone present had someplace to be in the morning. He let the boys off easily, as they had done enough setting up for the party, so the occupants of the house would clean up. Surprisingly, with the large amount of people who had attended, they hadn't left a mess all over the house. And there was no food to put away because it had all been eaten. Ditto the drinks. Eadyth was glad that she had stored some of the drinks she had bought for the party in a cupboard in the kitchen, or else she wouldn't have been able to enjoy another whiskey sour before she went off to bed, having abstained from them all night with the exception of the one Jean had made for her after receiving the dreadful news.

Thinking about the reception of that news, she turned her eyes onto Richard, who was standing at the entrance to the living room, talking to Eli. Except for Jean, Eli was the closest to Richard of the brothers. Taking a deep swig of her whiskey, she contemplated how she was going to deal with her boy going off to war and how she was going to break the news to her friends.

*.*.*

“Bro, want a ride home? Or would you prefer to walk?”

Richard was headed out, and had come to the front hall to retrieve his jacket. Looking at his watch, his appreciation for Officers' Quarters down at the Marine Barracks was reinforced. He didn't know what he would have done if he'd had to stomp in the wee small hours of the morning through the quarters of a hundred men who had PT in less than five hours. Turning to Eli, he reluctantly took the ride. It was quite a walk.

“But it's in the opposite direction. You've already got quite a drive and you have school in the morning young man.” Richard always enjoyed imitating his father, something which brought enjoyment to the whole family when amusement was needed.

Eli smiled back. “Don't you `young man' me, young man. I've got a year and a half on you.”

The pair said their goodnights and went out to Eli's volkswagon.

“Eli, man, I don't know how this thing is still running. You've had this little beetle since you were sixteen.”

“I don't trust anyone to work on it but me, that's how. I've been fixing this car for over ten years. My baby's in great shape.” The two got in, Richard very awkwardly, as he hadn't pushed back his seat, and were soon off.

“So Ritchie, what do you think of your brother's new puppy?”

Taking a second to grasp who Eli was talking about, Richard took his time answering. “Bingley? I don't know really, I only met him for a moment. He wouldn't let Jean out of his sight and pretty much monopolized his company the whole night. I guess he did look like a puppy following him around. But who can help it? Jean is quite a good looking guy.”

Eli laughed. “And of course the fact that you're identical twins has nothing to do with that opinion.”

Shooting him a glare, Richard turned his eyes back forward. “His little friend, though, she was cute. Ah, forget cute, she was downright hot. She didn't look happy though. Jealous?”

Eli thought back on the remarks of Miss Darcy, whose first name he had never gotten. She hadn't seemed jealous. He said so much to Richard. “She's got a helluva mouth on her, though.”

“Oh, made out with her in the closet did you? My dear brother, I thought you left that behind with high school.”

Eli punched his brother on the shoulder before returning his hand to the gear shift. “That's not what I meant and you know it. She's a rude prissy bitch and I don't like her.”

Richard was surprised to hear such come from his brother's mouth, who, he had assumed, hadn't had much contact with the woman.

Well, bro, seems like you've been a busy bee. What do you know about this chick that I don't?

*.*.*

After dropping his brother off at the entrance to his quarters, Eli turned around and headed north to Dupont Circle, the best area he'd been able to find an apartment less than ten blocks from the high school where he taught Freshman Humanities. With the limited parking near his school, it was better if he left his car in the lot and walked to school every day.

Driving up towards the circle, which he lived just south of, it was no surprise to find lots of people still out and about, celebrating the election of the new president. He was more than certain that the election would be the primary subject of discussion in class in the morning, as unlike most teenagers, his students tended to have more than the usual interest in politics. He wouldn't have been surprised if he'd seen one or two of them in the crowd near the circle celebrating.

He left his car in the lot and headed to the stairs to his building, his mind wandering to the night's events. So, Jean had a congressman boyfriend, Ritchie was headed off to war, and his parents' new next door neighbor—the girl next door—was the biggest pain in the ass he'd ever met. Wonderful.

Could she have been jealous of Charlie? He saw no signs of admiration on her part or his. He knew one thing, he didn't care if she was female, if she did anything to hurt his little brother, he would have her hide.

*.*.*

Sitting at his desk in the corner of the medium sized office where he and a couple of his fellow aides worked, Jean couldn't help but smile as he typed up a report for his boss. The memories of this morning would not be forgotten very soon, and Jean swore he would relish them for as long as he could.

At about eight that morning Jean was gathering his things and preparing to head to work when his buzzer went off, announcing that someone was at the front door. Guessing it was just Judy from across the hall who forgot something every morning but didn't have the free hand to dig into her purse and retrieve her keys, he didn't bother to find out who it was, but pushed the button to unlock the door.

He continued to bustle around the apartment, making sure he had all of his papers and other necessary items, while basking in the memory of the man he'd gotten to know much better than he had in the copy/coffee room. He jumped when he heard the knock on his door. After the initial shock he moved towards the door, smiling when he saw who was on the other side through the peephole. Shaking his head as he unlocked the door, he opened it wide and stood in the doorway, smiling.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

Smiling in the same manner, Charlie held up a bag in one hand and a cupholder with two coffees in the other. “Ah, ask not what you can do for your congressman, my boy, but what your congressman can do for you.” He lowered what he'd raised. “Mind if I come in?”

Still smiling, Jean moved aside. “Please, be my guest.”

Charlie looked around as he entered. It was a nice place, with a spacious living room, a dining area to the side and an open kitchen. He made it a point not to glance too hard down the hallway, knowing it was too soon. This was a guy he wanted to keep.

He set the bag and cupholder on the dining room table, which was amazingly clean. Opening the bag, he pulled out five or six pastries. Smiling, he looked up at Jean. “I wasn't sure what you ate or what you were allergic to, so I just grabbed one of everything that looked enticing.” Seeing Jean's smile increase, he took the coffees out of their holders. “I thought I remembered seeing you take your coffee with the smallest bit of sugar and half and half, so I put some in there. Stupid coffee places and not packaging anything. I hope it's right, because I was thinking of just stuffing the sugar dispenser and the half and half container into the bag, but immediately saw the headlines, `Congressman Caches Condiments: New Vermont Congressman Caught “Borrowing” Condiment Dispensers at Local Starbucks.'”

Jean laughed, taking his coffee. “Do you think it would fit?” He grinned before taking a sip. “It's perfect. Thanks.”

Charlie smiled, proud that he'd done something right that would impress. “So what about these pastries? And don't say anything about watching your weight. That's what the gym is for. Though I must admit sometimes it's there for watching other things.” The guys shared a smile before Jean picked an apple strudel out of the pile.

“There, are you happy?”

The only thing Charlie could do was smile and pick out his own. He was happier than Jean could ever believe, but not because he'd taken a pastry. He was making a great start at courting this guy, something he'd never done before, and he wasn't going to hurt it now. It was no surprise that he was so enraptured with his companion's chocolate brown eyes that he picked up something that actually was chocolate, something that he had nearly died from an allergic reaction to more than ten years before. By some miracle, he managed to stop himself right before he bit down, else Jean would have needed to call an ambulance before work even started.

Immediately dropping the éclair for lemon pie, he informed Jean that it was time to go and the two set off to walk off those pastries.

That had been four hours ago, and he was still beaming, little though the attention was. It was slightly agonizing that they were right down the hall from each other, but could only acknowledge each other as acquaintances. Neither was closeted, not even in the workplace, but it was unethical for a congressman—any congressman—and an aide for another congressman from another state to have any kind of romantic relationship. And both parties involved were very serious about their jobs.

Thus it was surprising when, looking up to a quiet knock on the door to the aides' office, Jean saw Charlie standing a few feet behind him. Jean's desk was in the corner nearest the door, but he wasn't too far from his fellow aides.

In a voice loud enough for Jean to hear but quiet enough not to disturb anyone who was working, Charlie asked him if he'd had lunch.

“No, I haven't. I've been working on this report all morning.” He turned to smile up at him. “But I'm near done. Are you going now?”

Charlie shook his head. At Jean's confused look, he explained. “I'm going when you're done. Here,” Charlie walked over and wrote a number down on a scrap of paper on Jean's desk. “Call me when you're done and we'll go a few blocks east. There are a few restaurants on the strip that I'm eager to try.”

Jean's smile widened. “Surely not all of them today?”

Chuckling quietly, Charlie put his hand on Jean's shoulder. “No, not today. But I plan on dragging you around Capitol Hill until I have tried every one of them. And I won't take no for an answer.”

Still smiling, Jean nodded. “I can tell you which are the best, and I dare you to prove me wrong,” he added, raising an eyebrow.

Charlie headed out still chuckling. When he got to the door, he threw back over his shoulder, “You got yourself a dare, kiddo.”

And then he was gone.

*.*.*

It was just as he thought. He hadn't finished any of his plans today in class. The damned kids would not shut up about the election! For once he actually wished he'd decided to teach kids that didn't care. Then at least he could complete his lesson plan and wouldn't have to stop every three minutes due to incessant questions. And that was when he could actually get to his lesson plan in the first place.

Being free for the rest of the afternoon for a planning period, Eli decided to take an extended lunch and go see if his father was available. He knew he wasn't teaching any classes right now, but he wasn't certain if he had an appointment. Knowing he probably should call first, Eli disregarded the thought and set off for Georgetown. He picked up something on M street in the heart of Georgetown on the way over to the university, knowing that it would be much easier than trying to come back in that direction to get lunch if his father actually approved of the scheme.

He arrived at the History Department corridor with plenty of time to spare, only to be nearly knocked down by a blur running out the door. Something about her looked very familiar, but he couldn't place it at the moment. He continued down the corridor until he reached Dr. Bennet's office, where the door was ajar. Knocking, he was bidden enter, and Eli found himself cocooned in the familiar space of Dr. Bennet's sanctuary. No wall was visible. Every inch was covered in bookshelves and pictures. Even the window was covered—the sill with books and the panes with maps.

Sitting the food down in one of the leather seats facing the desk, Eli sat in the other. “I figured you were hungry.” He handed his father a container from Johnny Rockets. “I know, no burgers, but I got you a sandwich.” Remembering his near death experience in the hallway he asked, “Did you just get out of a conference with a student?”

Dr. Bennet shook his head no. “Why?”

“I almost got stomped into the dirt by someone leaving your office. I figured other professors would have the decency to excuse themselves.”

Dr. Bennet looked confused. “You actually didn't know who that was?”

Eli didn't like the look on his father's face. “Why? Was I supposed to? She didn't look familiar to me, though, she was just a blur. Who was it?”

“Felicity Darcy. She stopped in to ask me something and then realized she was late for her next class. I keep telling these people they're not students anymore, they shouldn't behave like them.”

Eli couldn't help but agree. He was also surprised that the cold, insulting woman he'd met the night before was a teacher. Maybe that unfeeling demeanor of hers was reserved for parties and the fun version came out when confronted with twenty teenagers with endless questions. Then again, maybe not.

After their lunch meeting and a subsequent discussion on Eli's lesson plans, Eli figured it was time to return to school to prepare for the next week's section. On the walk back he subconsciously added “rude” to the list he didn't know he was compiling in the back of his mind of despicable attributes he found in Felicity—Felicity! That's why I couldn't remember her name! It's a happy thought—Darcy.

Chapter Four

Meeting for dinner Thursday evening, the three eldest Bennets had much to share. Eli recounted his students' inability to discuss anything without bringing it back to the election and related the story of his “near death” experience in the History Corridor at Georgetown. Ritchie told stories of his newest squadron whose actions in mess and during PT left the other two choking with laughter. Stories of what the junior officers did at the retirement party of the most recent Commanding Officer of the squadron had them almost on the floor. Jean was simply beaming. He'd had lunch and dinner the day before with Charlie, and they'd gone to lunch again today. He couldn't stop smiling and a few times he almost squealed.

“Oh, come on guys, you have never known me to act like this.”

Ritchie smiled. “I know, bro. Pretty soon, I'm gonna have to call 911 because someone's gotta douse those flames a little—ow!” Ritchie grabbed his arm where his twin had punched him.

“And you call yourself a big strong marine. You can't even take a hit from your brother the fag.”

“Hey! That was a surprise attack!”

Eli was enjoying this little exchange immensely. The brothers were the closest people he'd ever seen, but that didn't mean they couldn't duke it out when necessary—or just eminent.

“You're a marine you're not supposed to be making excuses. Anyway,” he turned back to Eli. “You know me, I'm pretty much your average Joe, right? I don't dress very different—well, except maybe the fact that I have taste—from other guys my age; I'm not a drama queen, my hips don't sway when I walk. I don't speak nasally or with a lisp, and I don't gesticulate when I speak. I'm not your stereotypical flamboyant homosexual. So why the hell do I feel like jumping up and down and singing like the Village People?”

“Tell me something,” Eli leaned on the table and looked directly into Jean's eyes. “When was the last time you had a real relationship with someone?” Before he could answer, Eli continued. “I'm talking about a growing, no kissing—let alone sex—on the first date, go out on the town and call you in the morning relationship? One where you even thought of the possibility of trusting and loving each other enough to see each other day in and day out?”

Jean sat there staring at his brother, thinking hard about the question just posed. “Never.”

Eli leaned back in his chair, moving his head around a bit as his ponytail had been caught between himself and the back of his chair. He was glad that it appeared his brother was getting the gist of what he was saying. He'd never had such strong feelings about another guy before, as previous relationships had been either all for the sex or plenty of companionship but no chemistry. Some relationships ended with a mere lapse in contact and others became good friendships but nothing more. Thinking for a minute, Eli realized that when it came to Jean's relationships, “some” was a little too many. Ever since coming out, Jean had been a pretty personal person, but Eli had his ways of knowing how his brother's life was. He wasn't a party boy with endless sexual partners, but he also wasn't a eunuch. He was a twenty seven year old man with needs like everyone else and he found ways that were not quite as promiscuous as others to satisfy them.

“See, bro, that's why he's a teacher and you run around shooting at sacks.”

The dinner continued in the brothers' usual vein, touching on a number of subjects until food came, at which point it was eaten with much gusto and no talking. When dinner was done the brothers would argue about whose turn it was to take the bill and twenty minutes later they would end up splitting it in cash because Eli decided he was tired of arguing.

When the planning of the next dinner went awry, they decided on discussing it Sunday at their parents' house, the next time they were certain they would all be together. After that decision was made, the three went their own separate ways, all in their own cars.

*.*.*

The group had gathered for one of Eadyth's Sunday Afternoon Teas, a tradition she'd gotten from her mother long ago. The boys had all grown up with it. They looked forward to it now, where they had often attempted—but seldom succeeded—at getting out of it in their adolescence. Not only was it a time to enjoy each other as a family, but to get to know new friends and to keep up with old ones.

This Sunday was no different. The seven sat in the living room, sipping tea and chatting about recent occurrences, along with the Lucases and a pair they often found around, Charlie and Felicity. Felicity usually appeared at the door as though she'd come against her will, but eventually settled into the pace and even joined in the discussion on occasion—especially when history was being discussed.

While Felicity, Dr. Bennet and Eli were arguing over the slightest chance that Waterloo could have turned out differently, Geoffrey noticed that Richard appeared a bit preoccupied. The tenth time he looked at the time, Geoffrey couldn't take it anymore.

“Ritchie, why do you keep looking at your watch? We've barely been here twenty minutes! What's the matter, got a hot date?”

Everyone's attention was drawn to Richard after Geoffrey's outburst. They all knew that he would not have made a date—were he ever to get one—on a Sunday afternoon. Seeing that he couldn't just shrug it off, he told them what was on his mind.

“Oh, it's nothing. I just told my new CO that he could stop by if he had the chance. Since you were so well informed of my wellbeing by Colonel Forster, I figured you'd like to meet him.”

Eadyth tsked. “Why didn't you tell me you'd invited someone, I'd have held back tea till he got here! You know I always want to meet the people I'm supposed to let take care of you! Especially if you're going away! Really, he better get his ass over here before I go over there and tell him just exactly what I know how to do with a knife if he lets anything happen to you!”

“Mom!” Richard shook his head, watching his mother calm a bit after the escalation of her heart rate with that outburst. Not to mention Charlie and Felicity were looking a little more scared than usual, though Charlie appeared to brush it off as nothing and returned to conversing with Jean. “I wasn't certain that he would be able to make it. So I didn't bother. I—speak of the devil. Nobody but him knocks on a door like he's about to beat it down and then beat whoever is on the other side.”

Swallowing visibly, Dr. Bennet announced that he'd answer the door, being the closest person to the front hall. Once there he opened the door to see a good looking man, a bit younger than himself, dressed in BDUs and holding a USMC baseball cap. The man smiled, showing dimples, and held out his free hand. “Doctor Bennet, I presume?”

Dr. Bennet could help but laugh at the man's joke and took the outstretched hand. “Indeed I am. I assume you then are my Ritchie's new Commanding Officer?”

Still smiling, the man shook the Doctor's hand and spoke with a distinct southern drawl. “Colonel George Wickham of the Virginia Wickhams at your service.”

*.*.*

The Doctor wasn't too impressed with the way the Colonel had acknowledged his ancestry, but other than that there was nothing about the man that caused any doubt in the Doctor's mind. He stepped aside to allow the man entrance. He took his outer fatigue jacket and hat and placed them in the space made available for such things in the front hall, and walked in to announce their guest.

“Well, Ritchie, it looks like your new CO showed after all. Eadyth, I'd like you to meet Colonel—“

The Doctor was halted by a sudden crashing of china in the corner where he remembered leaving Felicity, and looked over to her to see what had happened. What he saw managed to frighten him to the core.

Felicity sat there, a look of sheer terror in her eyes, her hands in position as though she were still holding her cup and saucer, not noticing the broken china on the floor. She was trembling all over.

What he saw, though, had lasted all of a few seconds and she suddenly regained her senses and immediately began apologizing profusely to Eadyth and reaching down to pick up her mess. Charlie immediately began to assist her and held his hand over hers when she cut her palm on a jagged piece of a saucer. Eadyth, who had run to get a dish towel to clean up the spilt tea now gave the towel to Charlie to hold over her cut, and sent Jean into the kitchen to get some first aid supplies.

“No, Mrs. Bennet, I'll be all right. Perhaps we should be going home now.”

The words were more than calm, they were so quiet that Eadyth had barely heard them. What was wrong with her?

“Miss Darcy, Congressman Bingley, always a pleasure.”

Felicity paid no attention to anything but her hand, while Charlie gave him a curt nod as they headed to the hallway to grab their coats and head next door to their own home. Charlie swore to Eadyth that he would make sure everything was alright and that he'd call them if Felicity'd needed to go to the hospital to receive stitches. Eadyth wasn't particularly fond of the girl, but if someone was going to cut themselves in her house, the least she could do was to make sure they weren't too damaged from it.

*.*.*

Returning to the living room, she listened to the conversation between the Colonel and the Bennets.

“You know Pinky and the Brain?”

”Henry! How many times do I have to tell you not to call people names?”

“Yes, Felicity and I go back a long time. Her father and I were in school together.”

“So what was with the display? Girls always drop things in your presence or is she special?”

“Henry!” This time is wasn't just his mother but his mother, three of his brothers and his father. He sat back pouting and held his hands up for the remainder of his family to question the CO.

Eli was very surprised to find that the two who had just left were well acquainted considering the greeting the CO had received. Seeing his friendly manner, and knowing Felicity's attitude, he was sure that whatever the problem was had been her fault and this man, all smiles and cordiality, had forgiven whatever transgression she had made. Now it was time to find out what the problem was.

“Colonel, I hope you don't mind my asking, but I was just wondering why, if you and her father were such good friends, she would greet you in that way.”

The Colonel smiled. The girl had given him a wonderful way to bring more people to his side and against Felicity, the little bitch. “The details,” he drawled, “aren't such that I'd like to spread the particulars around in decent company, but let's just say she nearly got me discharged from the service when she was a teenager. But it's alright, her father managed to get me out of that mess.” He smiled. “She was just a kid, I'm sure she didn't know what she was doing.”

Eli was very surprised at this confession. What could she have done that couldn't be discussed in decent company? She was such a prude. What did she do, accidentally let the man see her ankle and run screaming to daddy? That must have been pretty shitty for the Colonel. It was also amazing that he'd nearly lost his career because of a scrawny kid and was decent enough not to judge her for it. He'd forgiven her. So why hadn't she forgiven him? She's a vindictive bitch, that's why. What the hell is her problem?

The Bennets, the Lucases and the Colonel enjoyed the rest of the evening without mention of Felicity Darcy. Charlie was sometimes brought into the discussion, as Jean often made a subject return to him. The family took it like professionals and the Lucases were gradually getting used to it, but the Colonel was beginning to tire of the boy's infatuation with the new Congressman. He knew the kid, he'd be just like the rest of his kind and hurt him. Life was just fucked up like that. And if anyone knew, he did. He wasn't a Marine for nothing.

Around seven the group parted. The Colonel was driving Richard back to the Barracks since he'd walked again, while Eli was dropping Henry and Geoffrey at the Metro station, where Geoffrey could take the train over to Alexandria where he lived and worked and Henry could ride out to Vienna, where he'd parked his car. Eli approved of Henry's knowledge of the transportation around here. It would have been a serious bitch to get all the way out to Vienna in traffic, plus however many more miles he would have had to drive to get to his apartment that was near school.

After dropping them off downtown, he headed towards his own home, where he had to grade a few more tests before class in the morning.

*.*.*

“Felicity, are you alright in there?”

She had heard Charlie coming upstairs to her floor, but she hadn't bothered to get up to let him into her room. For now she just wanted to be alone. Her bed was comforting to her now, where nothing and no one could harm her in any way. It was too early to go to sleep, but if she left her bed now there was no telling just how safe she was, even in her own house.

The incessant knocking on her door was beginning to grow louder, giving her a headache. She was getting really annoyed with this whole “roommate deal.” She hadn't even had to share a room with anyone in school—well, she'd had to share bathrooms and stuff, but she always got her personal space and most people knew not to intrude on it. All actually, except for one person—Charlie. She knew he was just trying to help, but did he really have to be like this now? She didn't want care, she wanted solitude.

“Leave me alone, Charlie!”

The knocking stopped immediately. Afraid that she'd hurt his feelings, Felicity almost got up and opened the door to make sure he was alright, but she needed her solitude, her fear. She needed to be swallowed up into the darkness. Reaching over to her nightstand, she opened a drawer and grabbed a large bottle of sleeping pills. Tossing a couple down her throat, she leaned back and drew the covers totally around her, allowing herself to enter the land of Morpheus.

Chapter Five

Charlie couldn't believe how much had changed in the last month. He had a house, lived with his best friend in the entire world, and lived down the street and next door from some of the most wonderful people he'd ever known. Of course, the most important in the group was one he saw for at least a minute every day, in some way or another.

Tonight, the pair was having the time of their lives. They'd laughed at dinner, held hands strolling through Capitol Hill in the crisp November air, discussed serious issues over dessert at a local coffee shop and delicatessen. The evening had pretty much been perfect.

The only thing that would make it even more so to Charlie would be if Jean were to declare his undying love right at this moment, on the sidewalk, in front of Charlie's house. But he knew that wouldn't happen. Jean wasn't too big on PDA. It had taken Charlie long enough to just get his hand, and when Jean had relinquished it, Charlie felt he'd won some wonderful prize, along with a great deal of Jean's affection.

There was no one at work or in the neighborhood who couldn't say the two were completely enamored with each other. They came in with coffee every morning and had lunch every day. They walked home together, Charlie dropping him at his apartment door and continuing to his own home. They usually made impromptu dinner plans, making it so Jean grew weary of buying food for his apartment as no one would really be using it, unless the two decided to stay in one evening. But that didn't matter to him. He was falling tragically, terribly, madly in love.

*.*.*

Felicity didn't understand why Charlie was behaving like a teenager. It was bad enough that he had a happy disposition anyway, but now he was almost bouncing—a regular Tigger, that one. And now he was having a house party. A House Party!! It would be on a night when the Bennets would be out, so they would not be disturbing them, but what about the rest of their neighbors? He'd invited them, of course. So here she was, making herself look worthy of Charlie's hetero- and homosexual friends. She just hoped none of the latter hit on her. But of course, that was a given. Someone always hit on her at one of these things, and it was all Felicity could do not to slap someone, or at least tell them to go fuck themselves. But she'd been raised better than that.

As she gazed into the mirror, looking at her black outfit and chignon, she considered changing. She even got as far as pulling her hair down and opening the bottom drawer before slamming it shut and violently pulling her hair back into a severely tight chignon. Stupid, stupid girl, she chided herself, checking herself in the vanity. You don't want to look like a tramp, do you?

Checking herself and making sure her black pants were straight, her shirt fell the correct way and none of her hair was falling, she made her way down the stairs to Charlie's floor, which would be one of the two floors used for Charlie's party. Charlie had made something so the stairs would be blocked off to her rooms, but she wasn't sure how well it would hold drunk folk looking for a room. Charlie's room was in the back of this floor, but most of the space was open, with hardwood floors that Felicity feared for. What would they look like by the end of the night? Felicity could only wonder.

She worked her way further down, to the first floor. This was probably where she would spend most of her time. This was the area for sitting and eating, chatting if able. The music would be upstairs, though of course it would be heard all over the house and probably the neighborhood. But at least she could say there was an area made available for those like herself, who were not inclined to dance.

She flinched as William Lucas, who Charlie had reined in to be the DJ, began the evening's selections. The bass ran through the house, and she had to run up and sign to tell him that the speakers would fall through the floor if some of the vibes didn't go down a bit. After yelling a few times, he finally managed to get the volume to the right level. Unfortunately for her and anyone else with eardrums, Charlie decided just as she got herself settled back on the couch that it wasn't loud enough and the bass had to be turned up a notch so people could actually dance.

As guests began to arrive she didn't particularly care much anymore, as the volume of conversation on the first floor became so loud that she could barely hear the music upstairs. So many people had shown up for this. His gossipy secretary, Caralene, came with her boyfriend; his aides all came with significant others. Junior professors at Georgetown who Charlie'd befriended before she even knew they existed also showed up to Felicity's surprise. Numerous clerks and aides from Capitol Hill as well as many neighbors and, of course, the Bennet sons, were all there as well.

The moment she saw Eli Bennet walk into her house, Felicity's heart stopped beating for a moment. After weeks of taking in his dry humor and sly wit, his impeccable knowledge of so many different subjects, including her favorite, European War history, she had begun to develop an unwanted attraction to the man. He was not so bad looking, she had to admit. His hair could still be a little shorter, but it somehow went with the man: civilized with the slightest hint of wildness in him that a girl couldn't resist.

The woman she saw trailing behind him was obviously his “date,” and Felicity didn't even bother feeling jealous. She just felt sorry for the poor man.

*.*.*

Eli could curse the day he ever let his mother set him up on a date. One of these days, he would remember that his mother had wonderful judgment—on anything but women she deemed eligible for her eldest son.

At the moment, he couldn't believe his bad luck. Here he was, at a party with a relatively attractive woman, and he was alternating between bored to tears and dying of fright. Ms. Wilhelmina “Mina like in Dracula” Collins was very nice to look at—curly strawberry blonde hair, long legs, very ample bosom—and an excellent teacher, which is what drew him to her in the first place after his mother's description; but after that she was completely wrong for him. She and his mother had met by chance in a store, and discovered that Ms. Collins was the daughter of one of Mrs. Bennet's high school classmates whom she hadn't seen for years. That same night Eadyth Bennet had called her son and told her about this wonderful Classics teacher that he would love. Having just been invited by Charlie to the party and not having a date as of yet, he decided to go for it. At the worst it was just one date right? Well, at that time he had no clue Mina would be the date from Hell and he'd have to not only deal with her, but with Countess Dracula herself.

Always ready to dance, Eli did not hesitate to ask Mina to dance, figuring he wouldn't have to listen to her drone on and on about the headmistress of her former school on the dance floor. He'd almost caused an accident in the car on the way over, anything just to get her to shut up about “Headmistress deBurgh,” who had “the most perfect regulations for a healthy and upright lifestyle.” The woman had even written a book of the same title, which Mina quoted incessantly. The woman practically worshipped her. It was nauseating, simply nauseating. On the dance floor, Mina swung her waist-length hair and shook her ass with the best of them, but continued to talk about the HM, as she called her. Luckily for Eli he could only catch snatches of her monologue at a time, thanks to Charlie's amazingly heavy bass that he was sure would fall through the floor. William Lucas wasn't too bad with his selection of music, though. It was a wonder that Charlie knew about William's turntable abilities having known him for a month while Eli had known nothing about it until he walked up the stairs of Charlie's house. But Charlie was like that when it came to learning the ins and outs of his neighbors. He was the best kind of politician. And I hope he can tell the difference between my brother and a political pawn to be played with.

Looking around the room, Eli couldn't help but smile. Charlie and Jean were all over each other; Ritchie was dancing with a relatively attractive woman whom Eli had never seen before; he guessed he was one of Charlie's friends. His youngest brothers were also on the floor, dancing like crazy—sometimes with girls, sometimes with guys, sometimes with each other. For just a second, he caught the eye of Felicity Darcy, who was standing on the edge of the floor, appearing to be watching him. She did not bother to avert her eyes when he caught her gaze, in fact it became stronger, deeper. He couldn't figure out what he saw in that gaze, but he didn't like it. It was too intense for him by half.

*.*.*

When William stopped to take a break, allowing some of the persistent dancers a rest, Eli and Mina returned downstairs to take a seat on one of the couches that had been set up against the walls, with food and drink. Most of those who had been dancing were doing the same, so Eli and Mina had to rush to attain seats before the crowd made its way downstairs. He was slightly annoyed at the stop of the music, because now he actually had to appear attentive to Mina's raptures about her HM's rules about life and love. Some of the things she was discussing were not only boring, but positively appalling, especially in this day in age. How old was this woman that she had ideas like that? Did she grow up under the reign of Victoria? She must have. Only such an upbringing would store such ideas in her head. Of course that would make her over a hundred years old, but it was known to happen.

In-between raptures about HM deBurgh, Mina had been dropping relatively subtle hints about wanting to be alone. The man appeared to not be interested. What was this? She was a perfect specimen of marriageable material in a town full of bullheaded, modern minded women and she was being ignored! Eventually tired of his not getting the hint, she dropped a less subtle hint in the middle of a sentence.

“Say, how about we drop this place and go back to mine. Maybe we can get to know each other…a little better.”

Eli didn't like this. He didn't like this at all. She'd inched her way over their portion of the couch until he was cornered. Over the course of her sentence, she'd worked her hand down his back and to his backside. Now he had a desperate looking woman, in a crowded room, groping him. How embarrassing.

“We can get to know each other better right here, sitting on the couch.” He attempted, but failed miserably, at moving away from her groping hands.

“Not the way I want to get to know you.”

He gulped. Her right hand was slowly making circles on his ass and her left was gradually making its way up his leg. “And just how much better do you want to get to know me, if you don't mind my asking?”

She smiled seductively, making him gulp harder and try his best to move away before she climbed on top of him. Slowly moving her face closer to his and placing her hand over his groin, she said in almost a whisper, lest more people than she'd like heard her, “All the way better.”

Eli jumped. This was not how he wanted it at all. With the incentive of that last whispered phrase and the groping of his most personal place, he managed to climb over the arm of the couch and lean against the refreshments table, causing everyone around them to focus their attention on them. Smiling weakly, he backed his way around the table while she unabashedly crawled over the side of the couch and after him. She had almost reached him again when by some great miracle the music decided to come on again. William must have been done with his break. Out of nowhere, Richard came and grabbed Mina, introducing himself as Eli's brother and taking her up to dance, nodding his head absentmindedly as she began speaking again about HM deBurgh.

Sighing in relief, he missed the laughter in Felicity's eyes as she approached him, only seeing the mask she'd schooled back into her face once he'd caught her gaze. Reaching past him to get a drink, she made sure she didn't make the same mistake as her predecessor and stood at least a foot away from him—close enough that they could speak intimately but far enough that he couldn't accuse her of invading his personal space.

Staring into his eyes, she was going to make some sly remark about the incident when she heard something come out of her mouth that she wasn't planning on.

“Would you like to dance?”

Stunned beyond even what Mina could do, Eli would later wonder why he could do nothing but nod. She was looking amazing tonight, even in her severity. Her dark hair was pulled back into yet another intricate chignon and her outfit was striking yet tasteful. Her black top covered her entire upper body, but it clung to her every curve, a lacy pattern running down her arms and the sides of her torso. Her black pants clung at the hips and had a bit of the flare at the bottom. If only there was the same kind of beauty underneath as on the outside, he thought caustically. The pair went up the stairs to the dance floor, where William had started playing one of Felicity's favorite sad songs.

Of course, he would play the one song that reminds me just what I'm doing up here, dancing my first of the night—but hopefully not my last.

Notice me, take my hand
Why are we strangers when
Our love is strong
Why can't it react without me?

Every time I try to fly I fall
Without my wings I feel so small
I guess I need you baby
And every time I see you in my dreams
I see your face, it's haunting me
I guess I need you baby

She knew it was strange, a person of her standing and intelligence liking a song sung by teenyboppers around the globe, but the moment she'd heard it—a few days ago—she'd taken to it immediately, feeling the lyrics and the pain—even if the singer herself didn't. She didn't know. She didn't sing, so she wasn't going to attempt to know what singers did with lyrics.

I make believe that you are here
It's the only way I see clear
What have I done?
You seem to move on easy

Every time I try to fly I fall
Without my wings I feel so small
I guess I need you baby
And every time I see you in my dreams
I see your face, you're haunting me
I guess I need you baby

Realizing she'd gotten herself distracted by the lyrics of the song, she looked up to focus on the object of her affection. Why did he have to be attractive to her? She barely liked him, especially his attitude. And he was the son of her mentor. Never good. He was intelligent, but he was wasting his time teaching high school when she knew he had the smarts and the connections to teach at a higher level. Looking up into his slightly confused eyes, she gave him a hint of a smile, which caused him to appear even more confused. He began to speak but she put her fingers over his lips and shushed him. She wanted to absorb the feel of his arms around her as well as the lyrics of the song itself.

I may have made it lame
(please forgive me)
My weakness caused you pain
(and this song's possibly)

Eli was very confused. She was concentrating very hard on the lyrics to this song—or maybe trying to remember if she put the trash out—and was staring at his face in the process. Her focus appeared to be on his eyes, but far away at the same time. There was something in those eyes that he couldn't explain. Every time he saw her and looked into her eyes, he saw something different there. The problem was, he didn't know what each difference meant. And he didn't like it.

They also hadn't insulted each other tonight. They hadn't shared a good clash in a couple weeks, actually, and it was kind of scary.

At night I pray that soon your face will fade away

Maybe this dance would calm her feelings and tonight his face would not appear to her. Although it was much better than the alternative.

Every time I try to fly I fall
Without my wings I feel so small
I guess I need you baby
And every time I see you in my dreams
I see your face, you're haunting me
I guess I need you baby*

The remainder of the song was instrumental, and Eli took the opportunity to speak without her hushing him again. Though her fingers on my lips did cause a strange sensation.

“So why did you ask me to dance if we weren't going to speak to each other?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I'm not allowed to enjoy dancing with an attractive man to a touching song?”

Eli didn't know how to respond, so he changed the subject to one that had been bugging him for quite some time. “So what's with you and Colonel Wickham?”

She paled visibly even in the dark lighting of the room and tried to speak multiple times. Finally gaining her voice back, she said “That's really none of your business. I would rather you left it alone.”

Holding his hands up in a defensive position, he shied away. “Okay, okay, I won't bring it up again. But you're one tough cookie to figure out Miss Darcy.”

*Everytime, sung by Britney Spears.

Chapter Six

Now that it was over, Felicity could breathe. Well, she could between each cleanup point. Charlie had left her to go over to Jean's apartment, so she was left alone to clean up the common floor and Charlie's floor. Thankfully no one made it up to my floor. I think I'd have died.

Unfortunately, that dance had been her only dance of the night, thought it might not have been, had his “date” not accosted him, even more clingy—almost wild. It was possible that during their dance she'd gotten away from Richard and downed a few drinks. She almost grabbed the girl by the hair and slung her over the banister and down the stairs, but figured that might be a little too hasty—and maybe a bit too bloody for her taste. She just let the woman hang onto her Eli and watched them as he took her home. Well, she thought, at least somebody managed to get some tonight. Little did she know that it wasn't that particular Bennet who'd be doing the getting when it came to Mina Collins.

*.*.*

As the party had begun to wind down and less and less people were sticking around, Jean and Charlie were stuck in their own world, only having eyes for each other. They danced, they sat, talked of anything that they could think of. It was by this time that each man knew that the person whose eyes they were staring into was that one. The one the straight people were always dreaming and making movies about. The one who you wouldn't mind spending day in and day out with, doing things mundane or spectacular, awake or asleep, well fed or hungry. For better or for worse, till death do us part. Is this the way they feel? Right? Charlie wondered what he could do to convince Jean that the two belonged together. He didn't realize that his awaiting partner felt the same way.

It was in the middle of the simplest conversation about the best way to serve drinks at a large function that Jean's light bulb burst with realization. He was in love with this man. The lust had long ago drifted into being something much more substantial. That frightened him to an extent, but he was altogether perfectly fine with the idea. I could use a good man to love. And here that man was, sitting right in front of him, smiling in his friendly way with a lock of dark hair hanging over laughing steel eyes—with something else behind the laughter. But what? What is that glimmer looming just over those laughing twinkles? Could it be the same that shines in mine? If only…

As Jean prepared to leave, Charlie offered to walk him home. It came as no surprise, even if this was Charlie's party. Charlie was always a gentleman, and he often felt it was right to walk Charlie home, even if Jean protested. Tonight was no different.

“Charlie, you know, I'm a big boy, I can find my way home.”

He smiled. “That's not the point, and you know it. I like walking you home. It extends the amount of time I get to see you.” His smile widened. “You aren't trying to get rid of me, are you?”

Jean had to laugh and shake his head. “Of course not. I just don't want you to have to leave your nice warm house just to walk me the couple blocks home. I don't think it would be nice to leave Felicity with all these people.”

“Hah. She'll be fine for the few minutes it takes me to get you safely home and back around again. I'll just tell her we're going.”

Charlie disappeared for the shortest time and came back with their jackets. Jean said his goodbyes to the remainder of the people present and allowed Charlie to lead him out. Their usual tradition during the walk was to discuss the occurrences of the night. This night the pair was unusually silent.

As they approached The Longbourn, Charlie had finally come to a decision. This was the night he would declare himself to Jean. He was beginning to mean more to Charlie than he could explain, and although frightening, he was certain that this was right. Though their relationship so far had been relatively short, Charlie knew he wouldn't be young forever. Jean just might find some other man somewhere else, and leave him alone in his misery. Now, he had to do it now, before he lost his nerve.

They had gotten to the door and Charlie still didn't know what it was that he was going to do. You didn't just walk up to a man and tell him that you adored him, did you? It simply wasn't done, right? Sure, you propositioned a man and told him you liked his ass if all you were up for was a one night stand, but this was definitely very different. This was life, here. His life. Their life. Yes. Our life. This one's a keeper.

Before he knew it, Charlie found himself holding the door as Jean said goodnight and asking to go up. It didn't really seem that much different than weekday mornings when Charlie brought coffee and pastries for the walk to work, but they were both finding that it was in a completely different ballpark. Nervously, Jean consented, and the pair headed up the stairs in the building to Jean's second floor apartment.

*.*.*

He was more confused than ever about Felicity Darcy. The look in her eyes as they danced was one he hadn't seen before. He couldn't decipher it, could get nowhere near its meaning. The fact that she hadn't been insulting towards him at all during the party was even more confusing. He had every intention of debating with her about anything every opportunity he managed and she had foiled his plans time and again. This time it had nearly been worse because he felt like granting her some tiny victory by getting a dance with him. If he remembered correctly, he was the only man she'd danced with the entire night that he was aware of. Of course, she could have danced before he'd arrived late with Mina, but afterwards she was either sitting in a discourse with someone downstairs or at the corner of the dance floor, watching the dancers. Or was she watching me? Every time I turned in her direction she managed to catch my glance. What is it with this woman?

Since he hadn't drunken enough to get anywhere near befuddling his senses, Eli had decided to drive home. It wouldn't be so bad, considering the night had only just begun for some people and not many people would be on the roads. He was just glad to have Mina out of his hair—literally. After his dance with Felicity, she'd been on him even more than she'd been before, and this time her hands would not leave his hair. The woman was worse than clingy, she had claws! He had to be sure to remember to check his scalp for welts when he got home. If there was any tenderness anywhere, Miss Collins would not be very happy the next time they met, if indeed that time ever occurred.

But for now, he would go to bed, as he had to spend the next day grading papers.

*.*.*

He crept up the stairs as slowly as he could, knowing that Felicity would probably hear him, but still trying to be considerate. He hadn't meant to stay out quite so late, but really, who could blame him? One minute he'd been calmly sitting on the couch, content with staring into Jean's heavenly dark eyes, and the next his back was on the floor, unable to see those eyes, the lids closed as Jean's mouth had devoured his own. Things had moved from there, and the pair had somehow made it down the hall into Jean's average sized bedroom, clean but not pristine—not that he'd noticed it then, but when he'd awakened hours later, he'd been clear and conscious enough to take in his surroundings. His focus, though, was watching Jean as he slept. His deep and even breathing captured Charlie for quite a while, and he took the time to examine and memorize every inch of his face and the parts of his form that were not covered by the bedding, which was tangled to say the least. He was saddened that he'd had to leave when he did, but there were so many things that he had to do—and it was at that moment it hit him.

Sunday he was returning home for Thanksgiving. He would be gone for an entire week. And it would torture him, mercilessly. Phone calls could never live up to seeing his dear Jean's fabulous face, but it would be better than not seeing or hearing from him at all. Creeping out of the full sized bed, he guiltily felt like a playboy leaving his one night stand. Padding into the kitchen and finding a note pad on the refrigerator, he scribbled a note expressing his undying love and devotion and telling him he'd call him later—if he wasn't too caught up in preparing to go home for Thanksgiving. He also began to profusely apologize for forgetting that little tidbit in his plans, but ran out of space on the back. Once he was satisfied with his work, he left it first on his pillow, and then worried that it might get lost in the coming hours, put it on the bedside table next to Jean's reading glasses.

Collecting all of his strewn articles of clothing from around, he quickly dressed and, after standing in the doorway of Jean's bedroom and contemplating his sleeping form one last time, left the apartment, saddened that he would be unable to wake in the morning to the warmth of Jean's body and his love.

As he reached the second level of his house, he looked up to the next level—seeing what he knew he would. Felicity was staring down at him in silence. She was hanging over the banister outside her room, one long braid hanging over her shoulder. If she'd had on a flowing white nightgown she would have been something out of a Victorian drama. The look she gave him, disapproving, questioning and satisfied all at once, was enough to make him draw safely into his own room, where he unhesitatingly plopped back onto his bed, instantaneously falling asleep, welcoming dreams of his beloved Jean.

*.*.*

Jean awoke tenderly stroking the bed where someone else was supposed to be. But all he felt was the jersey knit of his sheets. He sat up, hazily looking around, sleep filled eyes making out nothing but shapes in the dark room. He knew that Charlie would be gone when he woke up, but he couldn't help grasping to the slightest hope…or perhaps it was merely a dream. It could have been. But no—Jean could still smell Charlie on the sheets. He could still feel him with his entire body. That couldn't have been a dream.

He lay in his bed for a few minutes, contemplating all the changes that would come of this. They weren't just acquaintances anymore—no, they hadn't been for weeks now. They were lovers. Lovers. I never thought I'd be able to use that term for myself, but indeed, I do love him. Turning over to turn on his bedside lamp, he caught a glimpse of something white and glowing on his dark paneled nightstand.

Grabbing for his glasses, he lifted the note and, inhaling the scent of it, read it front and back over and over, until he had it committed to memory. So it wasn't a dream after all. Saddened though he was to learn that his beloved was leaving town so soon, his entire being was uplifted by the idea of his dear Charlie thinking of him during his travels. They say that absence makes the heart grows fonder—let's hope this time it rings true.

*.*.*

Although irritated, Felicity could not remain angry with Charlie for very long. She wasn't sure if it was her love for him that gave her patience or those pleading gray eyes that wouldn't allow you to do anything but forgive them anything. But after getting a few more hours of sleep, she came down in the morning and all was forgotten. She couldn't really blame the man for waking her up, really, the stairs squeaked. But he could have come back earlier. I don't want to know what was going on around the corner that kept him away for so long.

And she hadn't bothered to ask. The rest of the day was spent packing and preparing for the trip up to Vermont. She would only be there for a week as she had to be back for class but Charlie would have to catch up on some work at the local office, as well—he must have realized that would take more than a week. This time might also give him time to realize that he needed to focus more on his career than his new boytoy.

*.*.*

“So, Fee, what do you think of Jean?” Charlie was leaning in her doorjamb while she continued to walk back and forth in the room from a wardrobe or dresser to her suitcase on the bed. They had arrived in Vermont safe and sound, and were now residing in the house Charlie had inherited from his late father. Felicity could have gone to stay with her aunt, who lived not so far away, but Felicity had preferred to stay with him and leave off visiting with her relations until Thanksgiving Day. He thought it odd that after five years of not being here for that holiday she would choose not to be around them, but after meeting her aunt he wasn't surprised. Realizing his mind had wandered, he turned his attention back to what Felicity was saying.

“Well, Charles, considering he's the first man to my knowledge that you haven't brought home from a club or bar, he's promising to an extent.” The look he gave her forced her to continue. “Oh do be serious, Charles! You're a congressman, he's an aide, do I have to spell it out for you? What would this do for you? What would this do for your district? For your career? How do you expect to bring change about if you get into a Gay Clinton scandal? Clinton got in trouble, but at least he had a wife, and since she forgave him everyone else had to. That won't happen to you, Charles. He'll work his way over you till you're kissing his arse to gain entrance to the House of Representatives. I'm not trying to discourage you, babe, I just want you to be careful.”

Her entire speech threw his mind into an uproar. Careful! Careful indeed! She never calls me Charles. But I love Jean. I do. And he loves me—right? Felicity just wants what is best for me. That's all she wanted since I went into politics. And she's right. I can't make the changes I've been looking to if this hurts my career. But must I give up what I want to do what is right? Spiderman still got the love of his life while he was battling evil, but I guess he wasn't dealing in politics, was he? I have to stop this. I have to stop thinking this way. Why would I give him up? Isn't Love supposed to overcome all obstacles? But of course, this is America, and I'm a United States Representative. That's what Fee's always saying, right? It's what I get for having a conservative as my best friend.

Chapter Seven

“You're going on a date with whom?”

Richard laughed at his elder brother, sitting there with his fork still halfway to his mouth, just staring at him. He had a feeling his reaction would be like this, but hoped he'd been wrong. He knew his big brother was a bit of a…well, he couldn't really define it, but he had known Eli would think him a bit crazy for liking a woman he himself could but disdain.

“Mina Collins. We got to know each other pretty well Saturday at Bingley's party.”

There was a particular grouping of words that was ringing desperately through Eli's head and he had to clear his mind of the notion. “It's been three days, define that term, what was it, 'got to know each other'? Not as much as she wanted to know me earlier that night, was it?”

Richard shook his head. “Now why would I tell you if we did? That wouldn't be very gentlemanlike.”

Jean laughed. “Gentlemanlike, you? I guess I could see it, somehow. Don't really know how, but maybe.”

The group continued with dinner, discussing Richard's Friday night date, not likely to be the impetus of any more as he would be deploying two days later. But only time would tell. Maybe the pair would last from a distance.

*.*.*

The next morning Jean was sitting at his desk going over some papers when he got a “personalized” note from Charlie, which was obviously written by his secretary Caralene. Jean could tell, she'd written his name “John,” and he determined she must have received the message by phone. It was the typical hello, how are you note, along with a message saying he might end up staying in Vermont a little longer than he'd meant to. There was also an “extra” message from Caralene saying it was more than likely that with the way things were going up in Vermont, Charlie wouldn't return until after the next congress commenced and for Jean to not hold his breath for his return. Jean wondered if this was really what Caralene thought or if someone had placed those ideas into her head. No, of course not. That would not be right. She really must believe things can keep him up there for quite some time and there's nothing I can do to bring him back. It's not like I can say “Hey, Charlie, I'm your boyfriend, you got me pregnant!” or some shit like that. No, I have to be the nice cute gay single one and deal with men who are always running off on me! I can't handle it anymore!

Folding the memo paper and placing it in his jacket pocket on his chair behind him, Jean returned to his work, constantly turning behind him and reaching for the note, only to stop his hand just as it reached his pocket. It was only eleven, and he had an agonizingly long day ahead…all this week the lunch hour had passed over Jean sitting in his chair, continuing to do work while nibbling on something from the snack machine down the hall. He'd actually gone grocery shopping Sunday night, realizing that this week's dinner with his brothers would be the only time he would be eating out…well, that and Thanksgiving. Tomorrow. I have to deal with the entire family tomorrow and I don't know what to tell them. How can I call Charlie my boyfriend when we haven't spoken since the first night we made love? What am I going to say when people start asking questions? How do I get Great Aunt Mae out of my hair this time when she asks me why I'm not married yet? It's going to be a long couple of days.

He continued with his work, and by noon had made enough progress to simply go home. Since it was the day before Thanksgiving and the Aides were the only ones still in the office, Jean knew he wouldn't be needed any time soon due to an emergency or anything of the sort. He was glad, since all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and not face the world.

He made a stop at a Chinese place on the strip before going to his own apartment. Once he arrived at his apartment in The Longbourn he set a pair of white boxes and a pair of chopsticks on his breakfast table before heading down his hallway to toss his coat and tie on his bed, unbuttoning the top button of his blue shirt as he walked back towards the delicious smelling food calling his name. As his nose took in the aroma, he couldn't help but remember the first time he and Charlie had eaten lunch at that same restaurant—but it had been Charlie who'd tried that particular dish, extending his own pair of chopsticks to Jean loaded with the spicy contents. Ever since that day it was all Jean would eat from that particular place, and here he was, getting it again, unintentionally reminding himself of Charlie in the process.

But what had he done? Why hadn't Charlie called, faxed, emailed, written, anything besides that silly memorandum coming from his office? As much as he didn't want to admit it, there was only one rational conclusion that Jean could come up with—a very painful one. He'd been played, terribly played. His deepest instinct was immediate payback—and would probably be the initial sentiment of his brothers—but he immediately chided himself. There was no way he could even say a harsh word to Charlie—he loved him too damned much. Way too much.

*.*.*

Eli was awakened at six in the morning by the sudden blaring of R.E.M. inside his skull. After a few seconds of groaning, he realized that it wasn't in his head, but on his bedside table that the culprit lay. Swinging an apelike arm across the space between himself and his bane, he ended his torment, only to look at the time and jump up. He began running around, attempting to get all his things together before getting in the shower—until he realized that it was Thursday. Thursday. The worst Thursday in all existence. Why couldn't we just have school today like any other Thursday? The day would go by so much quicker. And a lot of murders would be kept from occurring.

Thanksgiving Day was the day for family from across the nation to gather at one particular person's house and sit around catching up on gossip and watching football for an entire afternoon—which seemed to some interminable. The younger family members ended up with laryngitis because the oldest members of the family had forgotten their hearing aids—or didn't believe they needed one. Inevitably someone would end up the designated “wave something under the smoke detector” person each time someone else checked to see if the twenty-five pound turkey was done yet. Arguments and secrets would be flung across the dinner table and no one would speak to anyone else between the time they left the house that night until the day they expected their Christmas and Hanukkah gifts in the mail.

Eli arrived at his parents' house in time to help his mother pull the turkey out of the oven. His father and brothers were nowhere to be found. More than likely they were hiding in some room or another making sure they didn't have to help.

His thought was proven correct when he went upstairs to get something Eadyth had asked for. They were all huddled in Richard and Jean's room, yet their discussion stopped immediately when his face was seen. Eli could only guess what was being discussed, and didn't bother to ask.

It turned out he didn't have to. Henry, ever tactful, suddenly declared that Jean had lost a boyfriend and Richard had gained one. “A girlfriend, that is.”

“Henry! Jean hasn't `lost' a boyfriend. He's just gone back to Vermont. Congressmen have to go home sometimes. And it's Thanksgiving.” Richard ran a hand through his hair, turning to his despondent twin. “I wouldn't take what that silly little secretary has to say for a grain of salt. She hasn't got much going for her up there—“ he tapped his temple—“I remember meeting her at the party. And, I told you,” he said, returning his attention to Henry, “I don't have a girlfriend. I just said Mom and I invited Mina to dinner because she was alone in the city. Even if this could be considered a date, which it cannot, two dates do not make girlfriends. Besides,” he said, his voice dropping a few decibels, “it wouldn't be fair to her, considering I'm leaving Sunday.”

The room was silent for a few moments, and Eli, needing to remove the gray mood from the air, changed the subject. “Alright, boys, time to help mom in the kitchen.” Channeling his father as he often did, he assumed a menacing air. “And I will not brook opposition.” His booming voice so resembled his father's that all four of them fled to do his bidding. Eli smiled. He could hear Geoffrey offering to take something from Eadyth, while the others clanked this or that around the kitchen. I didn't know I could do that…I've got something to use against my little brothers, he thought with a smile.

Continuing to smile, he moved to follow. And then, his smile falling, he remembered what his brother had said. Oh no…not an entire evening with her!

Chapter Seven, Part 2

After dinner, which was not as bad as it could have been, the family gathered for a few hours, enjoying that age old tradition of watching football and attempting to eat more food—junk food. As usual, it did not work, and the younger ones left feeling sick, while the older ones left with bags full of food to place in their own refrigerators. Henry hadn't escaped Great Aunt Mae's pinching his cheek and handing him a five dollar bill—telling him not to spend it all in one place—and Jean, unable to stutter a reply to her age-old question of when he was settling down, simply hid behind his twin and let him introduce her to Mina.

Aunt Mae, on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on and was glad her nephews thought she was senile enough to give them less money, allowing her to spend more on chocolate truffles for herself every week. The good ones were so expensive. She also loved to watch Jean squirm. He probably felt her heart wouldn't be able to handle his being gay. The poor, confused dear. Maybe she could find a nice nurse or retail worker for him. Or maybe an executive…there were plenty of those in the gay market. Why the man in the apartment across from her…

Oblivious to his great aunt's scheming, Jean wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

Richard, feeling his brothers suffering, could do nothing to help. Either way, he was having good time getting to know Mina. Sure, she was quite exuberant about whatever it was she was speaking of, no matter what the subject, and she had some type of physical fixation where she had to be touching him as she spoke, but he couldn't understand why Eli felt such derision towards her. He looked at his older brother, who covered his face each time Mina began to speak. His loss. And mine too.

If he weren't leaving this weekend, Richard would be more than willing to get to know Mina Collins better than he already did. They had already agreed to keep in touch as best they could while he was away and would definitely get together when he got back if she hadn't already moved on—as she more than likely would if he were on tour for a long period of time. He couldn't bring himself to say “if” he got back. Not on Thanksgiving.

Chapter Eight

It had been three weeks since he'd spoken to Jean. The longest it had been since the two had met between their speaking in some form. He was finding he could not handle it. But wouldn't Jean have called him? As they worked in the same building in DC and Charlie's aides were still there, there would have been many ways for Jean to find ways to reach him. He hadn't emailed him. Nothing had been sent, not a phone call, not a message, not a letter. Nothing since a few days before Thanksgiving when he'd had Caralene tell him that he would be in Vermont for a little longer than he thought and might be back by the New Year. Nothing. It's time, he decided. He would call Jean at home, now. It didn't matter that it was a Wednesday and two o'clock in the morning. He had to hear his voice, even if it was just to hear Jean tell him to go fuck himself. He could handle it. I think…

Gathering his strength, he took a deep breath and pressed a couple buttons on his cell. Waiting through five or six rings, Charlie was about to hang up when the ringing stopped and a click signaled someone's having picked it up on the other end.

He was about to speak when he heard a distinctly feminine voice mutter, obviously still asleep “Hello?”

Stunned, he sat there in silence, staring at the phone in his hand. After a few moments, while the voice continuously asked if anyone was there in various languages, he muttered something about the wrong number and hung up. Checking his phone, he made sure that the correct number was under the right speed dial number. Every digit was analyzed, until Charlie was certain that the right number had been called. Why was there a woman in Jean's apartment, in the middle of the night? Why was she answering his phone? Did he still live there? There couldn't possibly be any way Jean could have moved out of his apartment in so short a time. Was Jean letting some woman sleep on his side of the bed?

His mind racing, Charlie's thoughts led him back to a night that now seemed long ago, a few evenings after he'd introduced Jean and Felicity.

He'd been sitting at his desk in the small room adjacent to his bedroom, reading the most recent opinions on the online news sites. Felicity had knocked on the door, entering the room without waiting for permission.

“Charlie, might I speak with you for a minute?”

Closing the laptop, he turned towards the entrance. “Sure, Fee, what can I do for you?”

Felicity had hesitated at the door for a while, not quite sure how to continue. After opening and shutting her mouth a few times, she set upon her course. “Charlie…do you think all the Bennet boys like me?”

He couldn't help but laughing. “Why, of course they like you, what's not to like?”

Again, she hesitated. “Well, I mean, like me…”

“Well, Fee, maybe four of them might like you in that way, but I'm pretty sure that there's one who doesn't like girls, not even one as alluring as you.” He finished his sentence off with a little chuckle.

“Well, it's just that he was so nice to me—“

“Felicity, just because he was raised to have good manners—“

“And sometimes I got the feeling he was flirting with some of the ladies at the party—“

“Flirting!? He was being nice to them, too—“

Felicity huffed a deep breath and walked out. These were her impressions of the man, and he would just have to figure it out on his own.

Later in the week, Charlie had watched Jean's interactions with the female clerks and aides at the copy/coffee room, or the `watering hole' as many on the floor had dubbed it, as it was a place people gathered not only to work but to gossip. It did seem like he was flirting with them, but Charlie hadn't thought too much of it, as things were progressing quite nicely between the two of them outside the office.

Now he wasn't so sure.

*.*.*

Jean was exhausted. Not certain where he was going, he had been roaming around Boston for the better half of the day. He wished he could come up for more of a vacation, but with the exception of the occasional visit to his Great Aunt Mae over in Cambridge, work in Boston was strictly business.

Gardiner's office had been an utter and total mess when he'd arrived. It seemed like no one had been there for ages, even though there was a permanent aide in the Congressman's home office. It didn't matter to Jean, as it was something for him to focus his attention on. Even Gardiner had noticed in DC that something was wrong, and offered to take Jean with him to the home office, where there was actually work to be done. Taking any offer of distraction from his despair, Jean had willingly come along to Massachusetts while Capitol Hill was quiet for the holidays.

Today, he'd been tracking down documents that needed to be updated in the office. One would think that they could all be found downtown around City Hall or the State Capitol, but no, they had to be spread across the whole damned city. He knew one thing for certain, he had the T down. Since Boston was a nightmare to drive in, Gardiner had told him to always take the T. And for that he would be forever grateful—after watching traffic form just from people trying to park in certain areas, many of them not too far from Gardiner's office.

Now, in the apartment Gardiner had set him up in, which was thankfully not too far from the office, Jean was relaxing with a box of Chinese food and a movie. He'd tried to read a book, a classic that he'd found dusty in one of the drawers of Gardiner's office, but the characters and their situations reminded him too much of his own plight. Admittedly, the jilted character was a woman—and indeed, who would stand for a man jilting a man in the years of King George!—but she reminded him so much of himself that it was frightening. He'd tucked the book back into the drawer in which he'd found it and stuck to movies instead.

Tonight it was a horror drama—classy, not like those slasher flicks where you know who did it before the first person gets decapitated by a fishing hook. Oh, that I were less like Louis and more like Lestat, the ultimate bad boy. It doesn't matter, for try as I might, I just couldn't. I am doomed to be Louis. Alone. Empty.

Realizing he had tears in his eyes, Jean reached for the remote and shut off the movie. It was almost over anyway. Reaching for one of the annual reports he'd found in Gardiner's office, he immersed himself in it, until he was interrupted by his cell buzzing. Answering it, he wasn't surprised at whom he found on the other end of the line.

“Jean? I wish you would come over and keep an old lady company. Little Ed was here earlier, but I think you'd be much more entertaining.”

He couldn't help but smile at the way his great aunt called his boss “Little Ed,” like she'd known him forever, when in fact the two hadn't met until Jean introduced them a week or so ago. They'd become fast friends, as Gardiner now lived where Mae had in her youth. Informing her that he'd be over as soon as possible, he went down to the garage where the car he kept specifically for late trips over to Cambridge was parked. The old lady—not that she would allow anyone other than herself to call her that—adored his company, and he relied more and more on hers.

As it was nearly ten at night, Jean was vaguely surprised to find a few familiar cars outside of his aunt's house. Skeptically pulling into her driveway and walking towards the front door, Jean was surprised to see the door swing open and his entire family converge on him—well, with the exception of his twin. Eli was the first to grab his younger brother in a great bear hug, having missed the man in the few weeks he'd been gone. Next his mother, and his father, and two younger brothers. Mae hung back, as she had seen the boy much more often than the remainder of the people here. Smiling, she knew the look on his face would remain with her till the day she died. She hadn't seen him so delighted in a long time, and his happiness was something she missed—until now she hadn't seen it since before Thanksgiving. She hadn't asked what had caused him to be so unhappy, but then again, with Eadyth, Henry and Geoffrey around, she didn't have to.

While waiting for Jean to arrive, the trio had discussed nothing but Jean and this fellow Bingley, even while Eli and his father looked on in disbelief. The pair, he could see, was not happy about the way they spoke of him, and probably would have stopped them had not Eadyth suddenly jumped up screaming that Jean had arrived.

With all the work he'd been doing, Jean had barely noticed the arrival of the Christmas season. Asking what the occasion was, that the entire family had come up to visit, he was surprised to find that it was the 22nd of December. The eve of the eve of Christmas Eve. Everyone was off work or out of school, so why not come visit? They knew from Mae that Gardiner wanted him as long as possible, with Christmas and New Years off, but not at home, unfortunately, and had all conspired to take a long overdue trip to Mae's house.

And here they were. His family. I may still be empty, but at least I'm not alone.

*.*.*

Well into the night, the Bennets played catch up. Nothing really interesting had happened at home, Eli's and Dr. Bennet's students were acting as crazy as always, no matter how brilliant they were; Henry's new job was treating him nicely, and Geoffrey's school was finally wearing him down. Dr. Bennet informed them that Felicity Darcy had taken a semester's leave of absence, and would be returning in the fall. Conversation stopped for a moment, only to be picked up again by Jean to ask if they'd heard from Richard.

“We got a letter about a week ago, actually. He'd written to the whole family to say that he was settled with a battalion of marines and soldiers under him, and that he would only be able to write for a while, as they would be far away from any non-military communicative devices, whatever that means. The letter wasn't very long but he said he'd write as often as possible.”

Jean smiled. If there was a way to get letters home from the front lines, Richard would be able to do it. Slightly saddened that he hadn't been home to see it, he was nonetheless happy to hear that all was well.

*.*.*

The Bennets spent five days in Cambridge with Jean and Great Aunt Mae, even receiving a visit from Congressman Gardiner, who was very appreciative of the family for giving up their dear Jean so his office could be put back into order.

“And who better than Jean to put it that way? I didn't think I'd become so dependent on the boy when I accepted him for the position, and now look at me, stealing him away at Christmastime. I hope your visit is going well?”

The family answered in the affirmative.

Later during that same visit, the Bennets convinced Mae to hold a small gathering on Christmas Eve, one which would include the family, the Gardiners—Ed Gardiner, his wife, and their adorable six year old, Maggie—and anyone else Mae saw fit to invite. Mae, seeing this as the perfect opportunity to see how recovered Jean was, decided to invite a few of her very good friends with Charming sons, nephews, grandsons or next door neighbors. After a moment, she decided against the last, as that would make the company a bit too large. But the first three, yes, that would do nicely.

The gathering was not large or spectacular, yet it put everyone well into the Christmas spirit. Mae had gotten Henry and Geoff to decorate the first floor, paying close attention to her parlour and the front staircase. The family and dining rooms, on the other side of the house, were decorated as well, but the front parlour was the masterpiece. She hadn't seen it decorated with such vigor since…well, never. The boys had talent, she had to say.

But enough about decorations, let's watch life. And with the ringing of the doorbell, she prepared herself for the festivities which would ensue.

*.*.*

Charlie hadn't called her in two days. She was beginning to worry, as some type of communication—especially around this time of year—was always in effect between the two. Best friends since high school, not even the six hour time difference during college had kept them from communicating in some way or another. But it was Christmas Eve and she hadn't heard from him. Each time she tried to call, his phone would be off or busy. What was wrong? Should she call the hospitals? That would be difficult, as they were in different states and she was not certain of the names of the Hospitals in the area of Vermont in which he was staying.

This was not like him at all. Even if he were completely despondent he would not cut her off. Or at least he had not before. Was it because of that Bennet boy? Was he still pining for him even though they'd been apart for weeks? She told him to forget him. Would he? Was he having trouble getting Jean Bennet off his mind?

Probably not as much trouble as I, with another Bennet.

Eli Bennet had not left her since the night of the Party. She had been back to DC since then, to finish up the semester after Thanksgiving, but luckily the pair hadn't crossed paths. It had been weird being in the house alone, without Charlie, but she got used to it, figuring he would be going back and forth between the Vermont and DC offices pretty often.

She hoped her most recent plan would help her forget him for good; mind, body and spirit. She had requested and received a leave of absence for the spring semester, and was going to visit her father and aunts in Kent City, Virginia. Her father had retired there, as it was not far from the Virginia Military Institute and he could visit regularly. Her oldest aunt, Kathryn, ran a school not far from Kent City, and her much younger aunt, not ten years older than herself, would probably be visiting from time to time as well, as she was stationed a few hours away near Virginia Beach. She would find many a distraction from the image permanently etched on the back of her brain.

Returning to her original musings, Felicity couldn't help but wonder if anything was wrong with Charlie. He had no family left, and if he was still in Vermont was probably in that large drafty house all by himself, watching "It's a Wonderful Life." She supposed she could try and call him again, it wasn't too late.

Picking up the house phone, she dialed the ten numbers that would reach his house in Vermont. She was very surprised at the greeting she received.

“What?” An angry(?) voice yelled. Felicity was amazed to discover that it was Charlie.

“Charlie? Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, what's so merry about it?”

Felicity was very afraid. This was not the Charles Bingley she knew and loved. This was someone else. But she couldn't tell herself that enough, because the right voice came through the line.

“Charlie, are you alright?”

There was a pause, and then she heard quiet sobbing on the other end. Behind it she could hear the television. Indeed, he had been watching "It's a Wonderful Life."

“Charlie? What's the matter? Can you hear me?”

She heard sniffing, and then he spoke. “I wish you were here with me, Fee, I could really use your strong shoulder. I need a friend, Fee.”

“Why haven't you called me? What's wrong, Charlie? Please tell me!”

After a few more sniffs, Charlie suddenly spoke. “He doesn't love me.”

Startled at such a revelation at present, Felicity did not need to ask of whom he was speaking. “What do you mean he doesn't love you?”

“You were right, Fee. He led me on. He's…he's…he's fucking straight!”

Felicity was surprised, incredibly surprised. Not only had she never heard such vehemence and anger from her best friend, usually so cheerful, but he actually swore. Charlie never swore! It was only after she filed her friend's use of language and volume that she comprehended what he'd actually said.

“What do you mean, straight?”

“Why do you keep asking me `what do you mean?'” Charlie's angry bitterness even came through his caricatured imitation of her voice. “I mean what I say, Felicity. You were right, and I refused to listen. If I had it would have saved everyone a bit of heartache.”

After this, his quiet sobs turned to silence. After calling his name a few times, Felicity realized her best friend had hung up on her, also a first. Determined to set his mind straight, and at ease, she immediately booked the earliest flight she could for Boxing Day, as she had to spend Christmas Day with her family—well, the part of her family that wasn't Charlie.

Chapter Nine

Setting down her garment bag, she moved toward the planter holding the small dormant tree sitting in front of the house's wraparound porch. Charlie always left a key in that same planter. Felicity thought it was a bad idea, but Charlie would not relent, believing that there might be someone whom he would wish to come while he was away—and it was cold in Vermont, they should not have to wait outside. Many times she'd considered moving it, but then realized that he would simply have another made and place it there. He'd offered her a key of her own many times, but each time she declined it. This was not her home, even if she stayed here on occasion.

Her aunt Kathryn, who she would have enough of after spending a semester at her school, also had a house in Vermont, inherited from her mother. During school off times she spent some time there, while spending the remainder of the year in Kent City. Felicity had often been offered use of the house while it was not being occupied, but Felicity always felt more comfortable at Charlie's house. He was her best friend, and if she were there she would not be alone with a bunch of domestics she did not know. She had tried getting to know them, but her aunt went through so many of them so quickly she could barely remember their names before they were replaced. She did not know whether it was her aunt's decision or their own which often terminated their employment at The Cottage, and she did not particularly wish to find out.

She turned the key in the lock, recognizing the familiar click as the door unlocked and opened slightly on its own. Pushing it the remainder of the way, she called out to Charlie as she cautiously entered. It was dark, early evening, yet no lights besides the front porch light were on. There was no sound at all, not a TV, not a radio, nothing. She cautiously moved into the great hall, looking into the entryway to the living room. Thinking she saw a shape in the dark, she reached for the light switch, which lay not far below her head to her right. Squinting to prepare herself for the blinding light, she flipped the switch, proud that her night vision had not failed her in the darkness.

An old overstuffed armchair was against the far wall, almost kitty cornered to the rest of the room, and in it was Congressman Charles Bingley, curled up with his knees to his chin, shoeless sockless feet in the chair, holding on for dear life to a stuffed bear.

It was a pitiful sight, but Felicity could not laugh. This was not the angry, emotional Charlie with whom she'd spoken on the phone. This was not a Charlie she'd seen since his parents and sisters had all died in a plane crash while he'd been in law school. This Charlie was beyond devastated. This Charlie was even beyond despondent. Dejected. Disheartened. The “d” words could continue. She rushed over to his chair, which had been a favorite of his since childhood, and knelt by him, violet eyes peering into steel.

“Charlie, I'm here.”

The steel eyes continued to stare as hands grabbed on for dear life to the small shaggy bear between chest and knees. Charlie Bingley would not cry. He had cried enough for the many lifetimes. He could not let something like another man keep him away from his natural optimism.

He thought.

But as the softness in Felicity's eyes continued and deepened, Charlie, falling out of the chair fast enough to knock her backwards onto the floor, flew into her arms. Cradled against her wool clad chest, Charlie let fresh tears that he hadn't believed he had in store fall as Felicity stroked his back and head as she would a frightened child, murmuring words of comfort. Not much later, Felicity stopped her wordless murmuring and informed Charlie in a louder voice that she would soon become part of the rug.

Shocked at his own behavior, Charlie sat up immediately, leaning against the front of the chair he had recently vacated. “I'm sorry about that, are you okay?”

Felicity smiled, informing him that she would live. She scooted next to him in front of the chair and put her arm around his shoulder. This time Charlie did not cry, but simply laid his head on her shoulder and allowed her to comfort him. Knowing he had someone to confide in now, Charlie continued to lie against her shoulder as he told her the story of the phone call and his poisonous thoughts afterwards. Felicity could do nothing but feel sorry for her friend, as she'd seen just how into Jean he was, but she couldn't help but be thankful that this whole business had ended without her having to distinctly break them up, or anyone else having to do it.

For hours they sat there, Felicity comforting Charlie when he needed comforting and heartening him when he decided to disdain the creator of his great misfortune. Either way, Felicity's message was clear: it was over and Charlie would do well to get over it and move on. Perhaps refraining from attempting relationships until after his office was over would be a good idea.

Charlie stored some of this in his brain, but deep in the recesses, as he did not think he could ever really forget someone like Jean Bennet. His only question was where he'd gone wrong. How could I have missed something so crucial? That is why I rely on dear Fee to assist me in my judgment, and the one time I did not want to listen to her, she was in the right. What a fool I am.

*.*.*

The days passed, and it was soon time for Felicity to leave. Charlie, whose lapse of depression hadn't taken too much of a toll on his disposition, had returned to the office after the New Year. Felicity could tell that he wasn't the happy man he'd been before, but he still got excited about the work he was doing with his fellow Congressmen. For the days that Felicity remained in Charlie's house, she heard much of plans of new state laws pertaining to this and that. She was glad that she'd been here to move him back towards the office, else he'd still be curled up on that chair. She couldn't help but wince as she remembered the sight, pale feet gleaming in the dark, and one steely eye, never having looked so much like the material itself, peering out of a mop of sheeny black hair. To think that she could do nothing for her friend but assist him in moving on depressed her, but it was all for his own good. If he had made any real commitment to that aide, there's no telling what would have happened to his career. And that would have been bad. Very bad.

*.*.*

Dr. E. James Bennet was feeling an acute case of Empty House Syndrome. That was something usually meant for Eadyth, but something was causing him sadness and he could only assume that this was the reason. Eli hadn't been by in a few weeks, preferring to stop by the Georgetown University History Department for lunch every now and then. Perhaps he was beginning to tire of his mother's hysterics every time she heard of something going on overseas, or her ever increasing foul mood at most of her sons being so close yet so far. Geoffrey had been home while the dorms were closed, but since the semester started up again he hadn't been home for any of the Sunday Afternoon teas. In all actuality, the only one who had been around more than once or twice had been Henry, who had taken the place of his elder brothers as the soother of Eadyth's nerves. He had actually gotten much calmer in the past months, more mature. Perhaps it was the shift he had been making from college to the real world.

He was feeling a definite loss in the case of his two middle sons. The twins who had streaked his life with mischief and laughter were both far away, one much farther than the other, of course. They heard word from Ritchie every now and then, in the form of a letter or the passing of the word through someone over at the barracks. They heard slightly more from Jean, who called every so often from Boston to tell of what had been going on. The one time Dr. Bennet had even ventured into the love life of his son, asking if he'd heard anything from his congressman lately, he immediately wished he hadn't. His strong, resilient, easygoing son had burst into tears, telling him that the last time he'd called Charlie's office he'd been informed that Congressman Bingley would be remaining in the Vermont Office indefinitely, and when he'd tried to contact him up north no one would answer the phone. No form of contact had been made, and Charles Bingley was unreachable. The tears in his second son's voice nearly broke his heart, and he couldn't bear it. His world was crumbling, and his wife's hysteria was bound to send him to St. E's*…not that he could blame her.

Five sons raised, five sons out of the house. Four sons in the country, three in the region, one in the city. Both of the eldest Bennets dreaded the day their sons would leave them for good.

*.*.*

Mina Collins hadn't been back up to DC since the day Richard had left. She couldn't help but remember that strangely warm day in December, when she had joined the Bennet family in seeing him off. It had been an honor, to be thought of at such a moment, but of course the Bennets had been nothing but wonderful to her. They had welcomed her into their home, even after that dreadful display she'd made of herself at the party held by Congressman Bingley—Congressman Bingley!—in his own house. It had simply turned out that the eldest Bennet hadn't been the right Bennet for her. He'd been very nice and very patient with her. Yet it was his younger, seemingly gentler brother who had taken her heart, even taken it with him to climates unknown.

As a Classicist, Mina didn't have the most impressive image of war in her mind. Sure, the Greeks had seen it all as glory and acquisition and the Romans were not much different, but both had empires which had fallen. She didn't love anyone in her books…though she'd had crushes on some of the more brave and valiant characters back in high school, which had led her to the Classics in the first place. Of course, delving deeper into the writings of the Greeks and the Romans, she had found herself no longer in a fantasy world of kings and things, queens and gods. She had found a world full of blood and guts and betrayal.

She took her mind from these thoughts, as they had managed to place her Richard in the image of fiery haired Menelaus, surrounded by carnage and horror as his wife cried in the ramparts above.

Shaking her head again, she realized she had to think of better things. Richard… Richard not as a military man, in those putrid fatigues, but Richard as a family man, sitting and laughing with his brothers at Thanksgiving dinner, cheering his brother for some loss or another. Richard she had gotten to know after her attempted mauling of his older brother. Richard the wonderful dancer, with eyes that looked deep into her soul as they swayed to the crooning of Frank Sinatra. Richard, who…had written her!

She ran to her mail pile, in which she had glimpsed a very recognizable hand as she was daydreaming of Richard crooning in her ear. She squealed when she picked up the package, measuring its weight. It was heavy! He'd written her a lot. She loved it when he did that. This was only her fifth letter from him since he'd left last month, but she didn't care, she loved him anyway!

Grabbing her penknife to open the envelope without fully damaging it, she pulled out its contents of five pages. She couldn't help but smile lovingly as she read the greeting, Dearest Willie. Richard had decided the day before he'd left that he wanted to use a pet name for her, because everyone called her Mina. He had laughed when she suggested his use of her full name, which only the HM called her, and at that point had decided that Willie would suit her well.

She would have been happy to daydream about him all day, yet there was a lengthy letter to read. Running to her bedroom and hopping to sit in the center of it, she sat crosslegged, reading about silly antics of boys with nothing to do in the desert. He expressed wishes and fears, laughter and tears for fallen comrades in other parts of the country or the world. He was also beginning to doubt the sincerity of his commanding officer, not that he could say anything to his face of course, or to anyone else. Stories of daily life continued for quite a few pages, and then she arrived at the last one. Tears sprung to her eyes as she read the last heartfelt paragraph.

It's funny how I can write to you of so many different things in my life that I can't even write to my brothers or my parents. I somehow couldn't tell them what was really going on in my life, merely covering it up with boredom and sand. It's like I can open my soul to you and no one else. You have become part of me, Willie, like no one has before, and I can only wish you could say the same. I'm sure you don't look as forward to reading my letters as I do to writing them, as they're probably pretty boring. But you, dear Willie, you light up my world, and thoughts of your smile—which hasn't left me since the first time I saw it—bring me out of my fear that I won't survive another day. You give me hope, Wilhelmina Collins, and for that I will love you forever.

Yours,
Richard

Openly crying now, she kissed the page a few times, and then laid back, clutching the pages over her heart. Her day had just gotten so much better.

*.*.*

Stretching out in an overstuffed armchair in the corner of his living room, with an arm thrown over one side and the opposite leg over the other arm of the chair, Eli glared out of the window at the brightly shining snow on the ground, cars and houses outside his apartment. Big blizzards weren't a common occurrence in DC, yet it appeared this was the year for it. He sighed. He hated having to get around in the blasted stuff, but it was pretty, and the biggest joy of being a teacher in the DC Public Schools came through snow: DCPS shut down the minute a warning of snow hits the air. No kids for the next couple days at least. No petitions to sign for the raising of wages for faculty and staff. No twenty minute long conversations on American Idol and Crossfire. No students ganging up on new students for reading the Times instead of the Post—or better yet, the Onion. No teenagers discussing his love life, social life, or political opinion. It would be a nice comfortable day.

At least that's what he thought. Until the phone rang and he looked at the Caller ID.

With a groan, he picked up the phone. “Good morning, Mom.”

*.*.*

Sighing, Eli hung up the phone, and immediately picked it up again, dialing, and then suddenly hanging up. Reaching towards the table, he grasped the tiny rectangle of chrome and dialed the same number.

After a few rings, a low scruffy voice came through the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, little bro, how's life up in the Northeast?”

He was happy to hear a waking laugh come across the line, and an answer that the constant snow was growing on him.

“I'm glad. Look, I know you're having the time of your life up there in Boston, but would you really mind coming back for a while, for the sake of your big brother's sanity? Please?”

That laugh again. “What has mom done now, E?”

Eli accounted for his little brother the tale of his mother calling him because she'd had a nightmare about all five boys last night, and he was the closest, in case he was hurt. Apparently it was a vague dream but it was obvious that it held bad omens for all five of her boys. Not that Eadyth was any sort of dream interpreter. As a matter of fact she forgot her dreams more often than not. Eli was surprised that Jean hadn't gotten another call from their mother. Just as he mentioned it, he could hear a shrill sound coming from the other end, and Jean, saying “that'd be Mom,” hung up on his older brother.

Eli closed his phone and leaned back in his chair, basking in the silence. It was to be short lived.

The buzzing of his table warned him to the returning call of his brother, and he answered with a sighed “Hello.”

“E, you were right. She asked me about every bone in my body and it took me a while to assure her that I was fine, and that maybe it hadn't been a nightmare. Maybe it was good, because we're all fine, and she thought it was a nightmare. I…well, I don't know. Story for another time I guess. Now, dear brother, have you been looking after the apartment for me? You know I don't want anything to happen to it.”

“I know that, dear brother, which is why you sublet it to the Lucases while they renovate their house. Is there something you think will happen when they are in your apartment?”

“Well, we have discovered that Charlotte's husband has a talent for mixing, and I would like my speakers and floorboards intact, as well as my relationship with my neighbors. I won't be gone forever you know!”

“Jean, calm down! You're beginning to sound like Mother!”

This, which had been said over Jean's complaining of what might go wrong with his apartment, shut up immediately. That thing Oscar Wilde said, about no man becoming his mother? Jean hoped it was true. He would kill himself before he became like his mother, no matter how much he loved her. He had seen that episode of Queer as Folk and put it on the shelf. No, he would stop nagging immediately.

“Thanks, E. You're a wonderful brother.”

Eli laughed. “Hey, it has always been and will always be my duty to torment you mercilessly, little bro. Now go get some work done in that drafty, smelly office and I'll return to staring out the window.”

They said their goodbyes and each returned to their previous occupations, which for Eli was indeed staring out the window at the snow. He thanked God that he hadn't had to deal with his mother while teaching a class—he was sure she would have called his cell to check if he was okay, and if he hadn't answered, she would have called again. And again. And again. Yes, he was lucky.

Now if only he'd heard his brother's real laugh over the phone instead of some semblance of it. Then the day would have been perfect indeed.


*St Elizabeth's Hospital, a well known mental institution in Washington DC that has all but closed down in recent years due to public funding.

Chapter Ten

Captain Richard Bennet sat in a metal chair along the edge of their desert camp. There was only a small number out here, and the rest of those under Wickham's command had been left in a more urban setting. Colonel Wickham was here with him, though, with a detachment of twenty men, while two hundred others had been left with an underling. Richard could not figure it out.

Yet he found he could not think on this for long, as his thoughts at present were more pleasantly engaged. He found himself more and more conjuring up the lovely countenance of Wilhelmina Collins, his Willie. Never sure of the lady's sentiments towards himself, he could not care. His own towards her were bordering obsession, he sometimes believed. He had committed her face to memory the night of the party, after that amazing time they'd had after that amusing moment with his brother. No, he had to admit, it had been even before that, when he'd watched her come in the door behind Eli. He'd been coming down the stairs, and she'd entered, hazel eyes aglow and strawberry curls hanging down her back, wearing a modest outfit—though nothing could cover up that body. From that moment, he'd been following her with his eyes, dancing with anyone to get closer to her. As the few days progressed before his deployment, he had relished in the time he had been able to spend with her. Those few days were cherished more than any he could remember, and he hoped she felt the same way.

His daydreams were interrupted by a very familiar southern drawl which it seemed had gotten stronger since their removal to the opposite side of the world. The recent months had not assisted him in increasing his approval and esteem for his commanding officer, yet there was nothing of note to condemn him for. Suddenly remembering that he'd wanted to ask when the next mail run would occur, Richard rose to move towards the tent where he could hear Wickham's raised voice.

He arrested his movement mid-step two feet from the entrance to Wickham's tent. The words he was hearing could not be what he was hearing. Not even Wickham, who was not the best of men, could be considering such a thing. He had to move, before he was found. He had to tell someone. Anyone. But who? Who would they not suspect his writing? Willie. He could write to Willie, and tell her. He wrote to her all the time, and this would be no different. But what could she do?

*.*.*

“Am I to understand, Wilhelmina, that you would like your old job back?”

Mina felt like cowering from that commanding tone, but she would not. She would not show weakness. She would not beg. This was where she belonged, not in DC where she had no one, and where her students didn't care. Perhaps it had just been luck of the draw, but she couldn't see how Eli Bennet could be so enthusiastic about his students—she had seen none of that in hers. The commute had killed her anyway. And the month of personal leave she'd taken since Richard's departure wasn't helping her standing. No, it would be best that she come back here, to students she knew.

She was well aware that Headmistress deBurgh hadn't replaced her since her departure in August, and her bright students had been held back by the unfortunate people brought in to sub for the time being. She was just what the girls needed, and she would inform the HM this herself. If only she could manage to open her mouth.

“Yes, Headmistress. This is where I belong.”

Kathryn deBurgh took a closer look at her former student, who was now a brilliant mind among the slugs of society. She had always been fond of the girl, and applauded the fact that Wilhelmina had not been intimidated by her. With a simple nod of the head, she indicated to the girl that she would have her back, no matter what she had put the older woman through with the attempt to find another good Classics teacher.

“You may begin next week.”

“HM, don't you think it would be best if I waited for the next semester to begin?”

“You may begin next week.”

Well, that was the end of that.

*.*.*

Felicity Darcy was more than grateful to hear that she no longer had to sub for the saintly, holy, wonderful Ms. Collins anymore. She'd been asked questions about the return of Ms. Collins since her arrival. Her aunt had called her, desperate—though she would never admit it—for another teacher, as she'd lost her third Classics teacher in four months due to the incessant jabber about Ms. Collins. She'd been here only three weeks, yet she wasn't sure if she could finish this semester. It wasn't that the girls were stupid, indeed they were quite bright, but they wouldn't allow her to teach because they couldn't stop talking of Ms. Collins. If only she knew how to find this Collins woman to get her to shut them up! It was enough to make her tear her hair out.

She'd come in this last day just to wrap up what it was that she'd been covering with the class. It was a Monday, a bad day to end a section, but she was not going to let this Collins woman take over her class without bringing some closure to herself.

She was walking towards the classroom when she heard something she hadn't heard from it in a long time. Silence. Slowly moving towards the door, afraid something might have happened, she gasped and nearly jumped from her skin when she discovered the person sitting on the desk at the front of the classroom.

It was her! The woman who'd been groping her Eli! No! He's not my Eli! He'll never be my Eli!

“Ah, Ms. Darcy, the girls were telling me about you. I hope they haven't been giving you too much trouble in my absence.” She turned and winked at the girls, who were attempting to giggle covertly.

I'll bet you do, you man-groper. Chiding herself for such childish thoughts, Felicity attempted to be as kind as possible towards these girls who could possible make her life even more of a living hell in her other classes.

“Oh, no, Ms. Collins, they've been wonderfully patient with me. They know Classics is not my forte.” She was not even going to correct the woman on the way to address her. She would learn it eventually.

“I'm sure, Ms. Darcy.” She then turned to the class of twelve fifteen year olds and said something in ancient Greek which must have been very funny, as they all erupted into laughter.

Felicity would not stand for the degradation of her character in front of high schoolers, and proceeded to stomp from the room without a word. Ms. Collins said something else, and the laughter got louder.

She continued stomping, straight to the Headmistress's office.

“Aunt Kathryn, I will not have her maligning my name to tenth graders!”

Kathryn put down her paperwork in order to look at her niece. “Felicity Darcy those are my tenth graders and you are not cut out for Classics. But I suppose I must employ you some kind of way if you are going to be moping around my house for the next four or five months, so you will be teaching a class next semester. A real class. You have not gone through twenty five years of schooling to become a substitute. I don't care what the class is, but I will have lesson plans on my desk by Friday. Good day, Felicity.”

Felicity knew a dismissal when she heard one. But a class! She would be able to create her own class! This was something she'd wanted to do for years. Dr. E. James Bennet would not allow her to do it at Georgetown. Instead she'd been forced to teach two introductory level classes of the most dry and boring material she'd ever gotten her hands on, and unfortunately she hadn't been able to take the dryness out of it, leading to less and less of her classes showing up as the semester progressed. She found herself excitedly strolling down the halls of the school, headed to her aunt's house down the road. She had to plan, she had to work. A thought that had come from nowhere suddenly arrested her movement. What would Eli do?

*.*.*

Richard huddled behind a sand dune, still able to hear Donny's voice, screaming at him to move, before he was caught. Three days ago he'd sent off the letter that might seal his fate, as well as that of the entire squadron. Three days ago he'd told Wilhelmina Collins everything he'd been observing for the past month, in the camp and outside of it, as concerned Colonel George Wickham. As for now, he was running like a coward instead of staying in camp to face his certain death at the hands of some enemy, foreign or domestic. He had become selfish and wasn't certain he was proud of the feeling. Fear. Fear not only for his life, but for not seeing other lives progress in their natural order. He was sure that his family, friends and lovers would be able to move on without him, but he could not bear to never see them again. Couldn't bear for his dear twin to grieve for him every time he looked into the mirror. His brothers; his parents; his best friend; his dearest love. He only hoped he hadn't placed her in utter danger for his silly hope that Wickham could be caught from the outside.

*.*.*

Mina was in tears in the middle of her bed. Here it was, the fait accompli. Richard had written to her, telling her that she could tell no one but the proper authorities about what had been going on in Wickham's camp. But who were the proper authorities? What would happen to Richard? When was he coming home? None of these questions were answered. Richard's tone in the letter seemed to have an anxious note, and his expressions of love that could never be broken frightened her. Why would he be so ardent in his declarations? Were these the last ones she would read or hear from her dear Richard? What was to happen to him?

Upon these questions and a heavy heart, Mina fell asleep atop her bed, surrounded by every word Richard had written her in the past three and a half months, drenching her quilt with tears. I shall never see him again, she thought to herself. And the thought was much too devastating.

*.*.*

The remaining Bennet brood had swarmed upon their parents' house once they'd gotten the phone call. Jean had requested a leave of absence, as he was still working in Boston, and the other brothers had come from school and work once they heard. Dr. and Eadyth Bennet would share nothing with their children, which sent them all into an uproar, not realizing this was the reason the couple had refrained from speaking in the first place. Eventually, Eli realized they would learn nothing until they themselves allowed for the people with the information—namely their parents—to speak.

“Boys. Ritchie's gone AWOL.”

There was even more uproar after those four short words, the subject's twin raising the most ire—well, for Jean, anyway.

“Ritchie's the most honorable marine I've ever known, he would never go AWOL! At least not without a purpose! Are you certain that he could have simply up and walked out of a camp in the middle of the desert?”

Dr. Bennet sat by his second son and placed his arm across his shoulders. “I know this is difficult for you to grasp, my boy, but these things happen in the time of war.”

“But are you sure nothing bad's happened to him? What if he's been captured, or worse?” Jean was allowing his imagination to draw up many possible ends to his twin, none of which were anywhere near pleasant. But he knew his brother was not the type to leave anywhere, let alone active duty, for a reason other than strict necessity or by unmovable force.

He only wished he was wrong.

*.*.*

The decision of the family was that they'd inform their immediate family and closest friends of the events that had occurred. The list was very short, but if they told no one then thoughts would be that the family was ashamed of the disappearance of Richard. And if they were ashamed, that would mean they thought what he did was wrong—even though no one but Richard himself had really known what he'd done and for what purpose. The family could not judge him for it. The would place themselves behind him and in front of him were his name to be slandered in any way by any person

It was not until a few days later that Eli remembered something very important.

Mina Collins.

Did she know? Would she care? Where was she anyway? She and Ritchie had been getting close—well, as close as a pair could become in a week's time—and he had no clue whether or not they remained in touch or if she had thought about Richard or any of the Bennets in the recent months. She had certainly shifted her attentions quickly enough from himself to his brother, so who was to say that she hadn't done so again, since Ritchie was far, far away.

Uncertain, Eli moved to the rolodex on the side table by his bed and picked up the portable phone sitting next to it. Flipping through the cards, he found the one with her name on it, hoping he could still reach her at that number.

He dialed, and was almost grateful that her cheery voice answered him with a recorded message. He didn't know how he could tell her this over the phone. Instead, he left a message for her to call him back as soon as possible, and left his number in the case she forgot it—which wouldn't surprise him, as it had been months since their first and only date.

*.*.*

Mina, it turns out, didn't need the number left for her, though she wouldn't have remembered it by memory if she tried. Eli was one of the people her Richard trusted the most and had left his number to call if she needed anything (though she wondered if Eli had been made aware of this). But why was he calling her? What had happened? The voice on the message was very urgent, and she didn't want to think what this could mean coming from the calm and collected Eli. But when she called him back, he wouldn't tell her anything. He merely asked questions. What was her relationship with Richard? Did she have any strong feelings for him? Did Richard have any strong feelings for her? Where did she live? Where do I live? Answering each question accordingly, Mina was nearly tearing her hair out trying to figure out what this was about.

It was driving her mad! She would go to class, and her students could tell she was distracted. She would sit in her office, and Felicity Darcy, who she had to share a space with, would look at her strangely, almost jealously, though Mina could not think of any reason she would be jealous. She would be in meetings with the HM and miss entire paragraphs coming from Kathryn deBurgh. She couldn't handle this, what was wrong?

Her question was answered two days later when Eli Bennet landed on her doorstep.

She had been sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs in her living room with the television on, not certain what she was watching, but grateful for the noise. There'd been some popcorn popping in the microwave, as she had every intention of watching a movie of some sort, it being Friday evening. Because of this popping she hadn't been able to hear the knocking at first. Turning down the TV, she was sure she had heard knocking. Hearing it again, she had jumped to answer it.

Pulling open the door, she'd been surprised to find Eli Bennet himself standing there, looking disheveled.

“Good,” he said, striding in. “I was afraid I might have the wrong apartment.”

Mina made no comment, merely closed the door and followed him back into the living room, not completely certain what to do. Eli Bennet was here, in her apartment. What was going on? Eli was kind to her, she knew, but she also got the feeling (a little too late) that he found her annoying. She wouldn't say he disliked her, but he was not her best friend, either.

Which was why she found it strange that he was here, in her apartment. What was going on?

“What's going on? Why are you here? What's the matter? Did something happen to Richard?”

She continued to spiel out questions until he held up a hand to stop her, placing the other on her shoulder. “Mina, one question at a time, if you please.”

She nodded and he turned back towards the furniture in the living room, usurping her seat in the big comfy chair. She moved to the sofa when he indicated that she should sit down, and did not allow her eyes to leave his.

“Mina, Richard—“

“He's dead isn't he?” She screamed at him, standing up and pacing her floor. “I knew he would get himself killed, getting into other people's business like that, and now I'll never—“

“Mina, he's not dead. He's gone missing.”

She stopped her raving immediately, mid stride. “Oh.” She stood there for a moment, and then her imagination began to run away with her again, and she continued pacing. “What if he's dead, Eli? What if they killed him? What if he's buried in a dune of sand somewhere and they can just say he's MIA for the next twenty years? What if—“

“Mina! Calm down.” Eli rose from his seat and, taking her shoulders yet again, led her to the couch, where he sat beside her. “I'm sure he's not dead. He'll be fine. Last I heard there was no one but nomads within ten miles of his camp. He probably went for a walk and got lost.”

“Yeah, `lost' is right! I'll bet they `lost' him right down a well!”

“Mina, please, I'm sure nobody would want to kill Richard. He's too good of a man. Besides, his CO's a good man, he's looking after him.”

The two sat for a while, and suddenly Mina, jumping, turned to Eli, whose arm was still around her shoulder.

“Stay with me?”

Snatching his arm immediately, he jumped off the couch. “What?”

“Please?” Her eyes and voice were pleading. “Richard said you were his most trusted brother, even more so than his twin, and to call you if I needed anything. Well, I need you now.”

Eli was startled. Never in his life had someone asked him for such support; never in his life had he received such praise either. “When did he tell you that?”

Mina smiled. “Well, he told me about the five of you and how you were the one he trusted with everything back in November, but he told me to call you if I needed you about a month ago, in one of his letters.” A thought sprung into her head. “He knew something would happen all that time ago! He knew I would need someone! How dare he! Oh, the nerve of that man!”

Eli stood there, staring at her, completely confused. What was she talking about?

“Couldn't you just discuss this with your beloved headmistress and let me go home? Spring Break starts this week and I have work to—“

“Perfect!" Her anger immediately cooled and the smile she held before her sudden outburst returned. "Then you can stay with me. You couldn't possibly have that much work to do, it's spring break, students are doing their assignments now. Well, Monday night. And if you must teach, you're more than welcome to make an appearance in my class, or if Classics isn't your thing, Mister Humanities, then I can find someone else to give you something to do. But you must stay with me, at least for the week, if not more. Please, Eli. I'm begging you. Richard already left me, I don't want someone else to leave me too. I could really use a friend right now.”

How could he turn her down? She was looking so desperate—no, not desperate. The feelings were deeper than that, and much sadder. The woman needed a friend, and who was Eli to deny her that, no matter how marginal their `friendship' was.

“Okay, Mina. I'll stay here.”

Chapter Eleven

Felicity was participating in one of her favorite pastimes. She was looking out the window. While others usually participated in this activity in order to observe those around them, Felicity used the plush satin cushions in the window seat in the giant bay window in the front parlour of her aunt's house to think. While the view was of the well-manicured vegetation around the house as well as the school in the distance, she preferred to watch her inner thoughts flow in front of her eyes as they progressed from something simple into something more complex.

This morning, she had a pen and notepad at hand by her feet, which were curled almost completely under her legs on the window seat. She was allowing her mind to flow in one particular current today, in an attempt to come up with more interesting class activities. She'd heard some of her students complaining that Medieval Europe was boring and that nothing happened besides guys killing each other and people praying. Where was the romance? Where were the damsels in distress? Nothing but blood and guts existed for centuries. She was thinking of giving each girl a day from the Decameron and having each write their own story based upon the theme. But it would have to be historically accurate. That would be a nice long term project and they would never be bored again. She hoped. At first it was going to be the Canterbury Tales, but…no, the Decameron was much more organized. And she had ten students. Decameron it was then.

She grabbed her pen and notebook and, while still staring out the window, began to write down names and days. If she was going to get this assignment done by the time class began, she had to work quickly. Becky, Day One. Sabrina, Day Two. Angelique, Day Three. Eli, Day Four. Eli? Eli?

She dropped her pad and plastered herself to the window. She could not be seeing this. Eli Bennet was here, in Kent City, Virginia. At Rosings School. With Mina Collins. Oh, Shit.

*.*.*

It was about to happen. He didn't know how he'd gotten into this situation. Had Mina talked, and he merely answered? Was he not paying attention? He would have remembered if she'd mentioned that they were going to come here today. Well, it was a school day and she was a teacher. He thought he would just be able to come in and perhaps watch her teach her class. He didn't know he'd have to deal with this. This was something he'd never bargained for on the drive down from DC.

He was about to meet the illustrious, the ingenious, the infamous Headmistress Kathryn deBurgh.

And he was going to die. He wasn't sure how, but he was certain that this meeting would kill him or he would end up killing himself.

He was unable to continue these thoughts of possibly leaping from the first story window he found himself staring from at the end of this long, wide hallway, as Mina suddenly showed up and told him to follow her.

As she turned around and bounced back into the door a few feet away from where he'd been, he slowly made his way over, breathing, assuring himself that it couldn't really be that bad. He entered the office to find, at least 15 feet ahead of him, the lady herself sitting behind a large mahogany desk in a large leather chair. From his memories of Mina discussing the woman, he'd expected a withered old biddy, sitting on a divan with a black lace doily on her head. That most certainly was not what he was looking at now—or more, what was glaring at him.

The woman he saw in front of him was not twenty years older than him, with silvering auburn hair wrapped in an intricate chignon that for some reason reminded Eli of someone. She sat at her desk in what appeared to be a well-tailored charcoal gray suit with a black silk blouse. Her features, though severe, were probably very attractive in her younger years. She was still a good looking woman. But fierce.

“Good morning, Mr. Bennet. Have a seat.” She raised a well manicured hand from her desk and made a fleeting gesture at one of the chairs facing her desk. Eli couldn't help but feel like he'd done something wrong and should cower in his seat, resisted the urge to even slouch. This was a woman, he supposed, that one did not slouch in front of.

“Wilhelmina tells me that you're a teacher, Mr. Bennet.”

Nodding, Eli affirmed that yes, he was a teacher.

“And what do you teach, if I may be so bold to ask?”

Like you would feel yourself bold asking whether I shower every morning, Mistress deBurgh.

“I teach high school level Humanities, Mrs. deBurgh.”

There was no change in her demeanor, but Eli supposed that there was a slight hint of approval in her eyes.

“And what exactly do you teach in this `high school level Humanities' class of yours?”

Taking a breath, Eli used the short time to organize his thoughts. He should have known that this was the line of questioning the woman would take. She was, after all, a school administrator.

“I teach freshmen how to read and write analytically using history and the arts to assist in their understanding which they might not have received in middle school English classes.” He didn't know why he was telling her this, like she didn't know the definition of a Humanities class. She had to have been a teacher, at some point.

“And do you cover all eras of history in your class, Mr. Bennet?”

“No, ma'am. I merely cover the early modern period. The next level up covers the same during the industrial revolution and the next the modern period. Students in my school do not study the Ancients in Humanities until their senior year.”

“And how many students do you teach? I assume there would be a lot of papers to grade.”

“I would suppose that with four sections of Humanities I and electives I teach about eighty-five students.”

“So you have experience dealing with small classes. I see.” Mrs. deBurgh proceeded to rise and walk around her desk, showing Eli that she had a statuesque figure even at an advanced age. Her charcoal skirt reached to just below her knee and her black pumps crossed each other as she leaned against her desk. “Well, Mr. Bennet, I do believe I have some use for you while you are here.”

Eli didn't like the way this conversation was progressing. Some use? He thought he was here to keep Mina from being alone. What was this “use” deal? “Mrs. deBurgh, I—“

“I'll be glad to have you here assisting one of our newest instructors as she accustoms herself to be the teacher and not the taught. Wilhelmina has her own class to teach and as it is not your particular forte, I do not believe your presence in her classroom will do much good besides distracting my students. You would do well in being available in a European History class, I believe.”

“But Mrs. deBurgh—“

“ I'm sure you will be very useful and should Wilhelmina need your presence she will be merely twenty yards away.”

Eli could do nothing but resign to his fate. It sounded like this new teacher was very young, if she was still accustoming herself to not being a student. Of course, Mina was not that old either. The two might be the same age, yet she had no problems with her students. He was suddenly curious to find out who this new teacher was. “I would be delighted, Mrs. deBurgh.”

Kathryn's smirk would have been taken by those who knew her best to be a satisfied smile. She rose from her perch and turned to walk back around her desk. “Good,” she said, returning to her seat and shifting papers on the broad leather mat in front of her. “Wilhelmina will show you where to go, as class will begin in ten minutes. Please feel free to partake of some refreshment in the teachers' lounge across the hall.”

As she focused her attention on the papers on her desk, Eli could naught but assume that he had been dismissed. He smirked at her last statement. Of course the teacher's lounge would be directly across from the Headmistress' office; she seemed like the sort who would always want to know what was going on. With staff and students. Sighing, he followed Mina into the room and gladly took a cup of coffee.

It had been a long couple nights. Having finally conceded that he would stay with her for at least the week on Friday, Mina had set him up on the couch. While grateful for the pillow and blankets, his tall frame was not grateful for the position in which he slept. Friday night, he'd gone for the general position of sleeping on his back with his feet hanging slightly over the edge at the other end. He woke up with a horrible crick in his neck and cramps in both legs. Saturday night, he'd tried numerous positions, which had resulted in nothing but his tossing and turning the entire night and barely getting a wink of sleep. He wasn't sure how it happened last night, but he awoke on the floor next to the couch. However strange it was, that had probably been the best night of sleep he'd had since he'd come. The couch was very comfortable to sit on and probably to curl up in, had one been inclined, but as a bed, it sucked.

He hadn't made any complaints to Mina, however, as it was rude to bemoan your host's furniture. Besides, he was relatively grateful to have the presence of someone who cared about his family around, and even more so for her willingness to assist him in acquiring all the necessary items he needed to remain, since he didn't bring a bag with him. She'd been unreasonably afraid, despite his promise, that if he took the long drive back home to DC he would not want to take the drive all the way back down. Especially at night. So, she had determined that she would give him her spare toothbrush for the night and the next morning they would go into Lexington to get anything else he might need. There was not much selection for clothing in Kent City itself and Lexington was only a 30 minute drive away. It had definitely been an interesting shopping expedition, as he was not keen to spending long periods of time shopping. He'd also had to refrain from showing his purchases to Mina, as she would either insist on paying for it or try to get him into a shirt or pair of pants that looked absolutely hideous on him.

Breaking his reverie as Mina thrust a paper cup full of steaming French vanilla into his hands, Eli inhaled its rich scent and took a sip. He was grateful and amazed that it hadn't been hot enough to sear his taste buds. That's the only way coffee had been for him in the past couple years. He'd stop at a coffee shop on the way to school and guzzle it down before he even had the chance to taste it. But this, this was good coffee.

He raised his eyes to thank Mina and after finishing it altogether too quickly at her insistence followed her from the room. He could feel the hairs rising at the back of his neck beneath his ponytail as Mina's colleagues—all female, it seemed—followed him—or more likely his ass—out the door to the lounge.

*.*.*

Felicity must have been seeing things. Definitely must have been seeing things. After her abrupt meeting with the window she had returned to her assignment, typing it up and making copies before class began. She'd been in the copy room, suddenly daydreaming about Eli—again—when a beeping sound alerted her to the time. She was late! Grabbing the papers and her bag and running out of the room, she was out of breath when she entered the classroom, already mouthing her apologies to her students. Those apologies came to a halt when she noticed an apparition sitting on her desk at the front of the classroom. Stopping abruptly in her spot, she couldn't help but gape and the smiling visage that had been chatting with her students and was now looking at her with a similar amount of surprise.

“Ms. Darcy, this is Eli, he's going to be here for a whole week! Isn't he just gorgeous?”

The other girls in her class all made a swooning sound and Eli had the grace to blush at the sixteen-year-olds' enthusiasm. He'd been teaching high school for a while, now, but never had he taught only girls. And such girls they were.

He removed himself from his place, hopping off the desk with a grace that had the girls moaning and twittering again. For such a small number they seemed to make a lot of noise.

Before she could say anything else, or even move, Eli moved towards her with his hand outstretched. “Ms. Darcy,” he said, when she had finally managed to move enough to place her small hand into his large, warm one.

“Mr. Bennet,” she said without thinking, only realizing a second later that the girls hadn't mentioned his last name. Luckily, it didn't appear that any of them noticed.

“Eli, please.” He released her hand and turned back to face the gaggle of girls. “Now Aurora and Betsy have been telling me that you've been working on Europe and they're bored!” He turned back towards her. “Why are they bored, Felicity?”

Finally working up the power to breathe, she answered his question. “Because they don't see it the way you and I do, Eli.”

He smiled. “Well, I guess we'll have to work on that, huh?”

She didn't answer. She hadn't seen his real smile in months. Oh, sure, she'd seen it in dreams, during the day and the night, and whenever else her brain felt like conjuring his face…but this, this outshone all the rest of them. This could not be happening to her! Why was he here? Was he visiting Mina? Was he her paramour?

She was staring at him again, and he didn't like it. He turned back to the girls.

“Well, ladies, now that your illustrious instructor has arrived with what looks like handouts for you, I shall stand aside and merely be an observer.”

And that he did.

*.*.*

She couldn't believe it. He'd actually laughed at her! She'd been so tongue tied and confused at his presence, she could barely teach her class. After she'd handed out their long term assignments and given each student her day, her confidence had suddenly dropped and she could not keep her train of thought. Perhaps if Eli hadn't been there, sitting at the back of the classroom in his hideous ponytail and those adorable glasses, strong forearms wrapped around each other with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, she could have proceeded with the class as usual.

But that was not to happen. Instead his first impression of her teaching ability was that she was a monosyllabic monotonous idiot. Just wonderful.

And she would have to deal with this for the next week.

And with this thought, Felicity spoke aloud a phrase that had been constantly running through her mind.

“Oh shit.”

*.*.*

Of all the things that could have happened during Eli's stay in Kent, this was not one he ever thought in his wildest dreams would have happened. Felicity Darcy was here, in the same city as him. Not only the same city, which was hardly a city at all, but at the same school. And if Kathryn deBurgh was going to have her way, they would spend lots of time in the same classroom.

But why was he listening to her anyway? He was not a member of her employ; she did not have the right to order him around. Still, this was her school, and he knew better than to cross someone in their own school. So he would go to Felicity's class in the morning and spend the afternoon sitting in the back of Mina's classroom. In Felicity's class he took an active role, but in Mina's class he would sit back and observe. He couldn't help but admire the relationship she had with her students, conversing in languages he could not understand and did not know people still conversed in them. She more than likely had one of those t-shirts in Latin and Greek about speakers of dead languages. She was still a very exuberant woman, and no less touchy-feely, but he now saw that she was not as silly as he thought. Perhaps it was because she was off the market.

It was his second day in Mrs. deBurgh's school, and he found himself once again in Felicity Darcy's class. Sure, today she was a lot more clear in her teaching—yesterday she had probably been annoyed at his presence in her class—but there was still a distance between teacher and students. Perhaps it was her appearance; the usual black and charcoal outfit of conservative slacks and top, different and classy each day so far, but not straying from the pattern.

He did admire the project she'd given to her students. It was well thought out and pertaining to the subject very well. He hoped all her projects were like that.

After her class ended, Eli decided to take advantage of the unusually nice weather and take a walk outside.

*.*.*

He got back feeling a bit better. Walking in the woods behind the school and house, the fresh air allowed him to breathe and think. Since his version of “nature” was walking from park to park on Capitol Hill or perhaps taking the trail on alongside the George Washington Parkway, it was nice to be around real vegetation. Natural vegetation. He planned on trying to come over here every day of his stay, while Felicity and Mina were at lunch. On occasion he would come across a giggling girl, but typically he would be alone on his treks.

Unfortunately, his bliss was disrupted by Mina's informing him before her class begun that they would be having dinner at the HM's house, as Mina did every Tuesday. Before he could respond, the girls entered the classroom, making enough noise that he would have been drowned out had he said anything. Great. Now he would have to deal with the woman on a more personal level than a discussion across a few feet about his career.

After class Mina practically dragged him out of the building into the parking lot chattering about the honor it would be to have dinner at Rosings House. She insisted that they go back to her apartment to change out of her school attire—a nice pair of black slacks and an olive blouse—into something more formal for dinner with Mistress deBurgh and a few choice faculty members.

“It's okay, though, Eli. You don't have to wear a suit. The HM will understand that you were not in a position to bring or purchase one. You can go just as you are…but for heaven's sake please roll down your sleeves!”

Eli took a glance at his bare forearms. Though he found nothing wrong with going to an evening gathering in rolled-up shirtsleeves, he grudgingly rolled them back down until the sky blue sleeves were crisp and locked together with a pair of cufflinks he pulled from his pockets.

They were his only pair, given to him by his father upon receiving his A.B.* He could remember the day vividly, how his parents and brothers had been so proud of him. How he almost hadn't been able to get tickets for them all because of the size of his graduating class. How Henry and Geoff had run around the quadrangle with his mortarboard and almost lost the tassle. How—

“Eli, are you coming inside? It might take me a few minutes to get dressed.”

Frowning over the lost memory, Eli nodded and unbuckled his seatbelt. He followed Mina into her apartment and sank onto the couch to await her return. He got up a few times to check his appearance in the mirror over the mantle, making sure his hair was still in place and the lines on his clothing were in order. He did not understand why he felt the urge to do so, but he felt as though he had to look more than presentable for this formidable creature that Mina so lovingly called the HM. He also wasn't sure who else would be in attendance tonight. Surely Felicity Darcy could not be one of her choice faculty members, could she?

*.*.*

Nearly an hour later, Mina returned to the livingroom where Eli remained sitting. He had originally been perched on the couch in a way that he could rise and leave at a moment's notice, but that soon gave way to a reclining position. Thus it took him a bit longer than necessary to rise from his seat and follow her out the door when she informed him she was ready to leave. Taking a look at her outfit, he determined that this was indeed a formal affair. She was wearing a dress. He'd never seen her in a dress. Not even at Thanksgiving. It was not a long dress, he supposed it was cocktail length or whatever they called it. Her hair was even pulled up. He'd seen her with it down, cascading down her back, and in a messy ponytail, but had never seen her with all of that hair up in any kind of intricate twist. This was going to be an interesting evening.

She continued to chatter in the car about the many times she'd been to Rosings house since she'd been younger and just how wonderful the headmistress was for having “taken her in” when she was in need. Eli wasn't sure what she meant by that but was not going to ask. Curiosity killed the cat, did it not?

They arrived to find only a few cars in the small area near Rosings House. When they were allowed entrance into the house by the doorman, Eli could not help gaping at the high frescoed ceilings of the main entranceway. Directly in front of him lay a staircase reminiscent of “Gone with the Wind,” and on either side of him large entryways led to different rooms in the front of the house. He knew where to go when he heard the commanding voice of the mistress of the house herself, somewhere to his right.

He followed Mina into the room, which turned out to be a sitting room of sorts. His eyes were drawn directly to the presence in the middle of the room, sitting in a Queen Anne chair as though it were her throne, with people scattered in chairs and sofas around the room. All in all, the party numbered eight once Mina and Eli had arrived.

Next to Kathryn deBurgh sat a woman in uniform, who had similar features to the Headmistress, though much less fierce. Also, Felicity Darcy was present, sitting in a windowseat as though she were at home. The other three of the party were faculty members that Eli had fleetingly met in the past two days. The first, Ms. Lucas, was a chemistry teacher who had been teaching since Mina was in grade school. Mrs. Jenkinson, who asked everyone to call her Deirdre, was one of the applied music instructors who had been hired by Mrs. deBurgh to assist the musicologist. The last, the only male on Mrs. deBurgh's staff besides a few of the caretakers and one applied music instructor, was the health teacher. And Mrs. deBurgh's nephew by marriage.

Andrew deBurgh had been teaching in Virginia Beach when his aunt had called him insisting that he be the school's new health teacher. Their former health and PE teacher, Ms. Lewis, had only recently retired and Kathryn had decided to split the job into two and call in her young nephew for the health part. He'd been a Biology major in college, he should be able to handle this.

And he had, very well. Or as well as a male teacher at an all girls school could do while teaching giggling sixteen year old girls sex ed. He had disregarded his aunt's insistence that the girls be taught abstinence and taught them everything he knew on the subject, the ups and downs. The success he'd had in the class was what kept him here, even today.

After a few minutes of chatting, a young woman came into the room to announce dinner. Eli was surprised, as he had never been in the personal home of someone who not only had other people cook, but set the table and serve as well. But he supposed he could understand how someone with a house this large who was also hosting a good number of people would have someone else do all the work. It would be the large task if that were not the case.

As the group moved to the table for dinner, Eli learned that the other woman in the party, who was not quite forty, was Lt. Col. Meghan Fitzwilliam, USAF, and that she was Mrs. deBurgh's sister. She was a cheery woman, immediately asking him to call her Meghan. She and her sister had the same statuesque build, even more defined in her dress blues and fifties-style coiffure of red hair that was less curly and a bit lighter than Mrs. deBurgh's auburn hair.

Now that he had the chance, he noticed that three women in his presence had similar features. Mrs. deBurgh and Col. Fitzwilliam, of course would—as they were sisters. But as he looked from the pair to Felicity Darcy, he could detect a bit of similarity in their facial structure.

His silent question was answered after the first course, when Mrs. deBurgh began conversation.

“Felicity, has Mr. Bennet been helpful in your classes these past couple days? I was certain he would be of some use there.”

“Yes, Aunt Kathryn, he's been a great help.”

And there, he had it. Kathryn deBurgh was her aunt. Felicity Darcy was the niece of the headmistress in whose school she was working. Was this the only job she could get?

His thoughts were interrupted when Mrs. deBurgh turned her attention back to him.

“Tell me more about yourself, Mr. Bennet. Wilhelmina has not told me much about you, besides that you are a teacher she met in DC. She is not very good at dispensing information about things occurring in the present.”

The statement would have been funny had Mrs. deBurgh cracked a smile, however Eli felt she was deathly serious.

“What would you like to know, Mrs. deBurgh?”

“Where are you from? You can't have lived in Washington all your life.”

Eli chuckled a bit, drawing attention from the rest of the group, who had been involved in their own conversations. “I'm sorry to say that I have, Mrs. deBurgh, as did my parents. I went away for school but returned to teach. The DC Public Schools are always in need of good teachers.”

“And your father, what does he do?”

Eli had been expecting such an inquisition, knowing the woman's propensity to acquire as much knowledge as possible already from one meeting.

“He's a professor at Georgetown.”

“Oh, and what does he teach?”

“He's the director of the History Department there.”

Nodding, the Headmistress paused for a moment, and after collecting her thoughts, continued. This young man was the only one she knew next to nothing about, and she was not fond of having people in her midst that she knew next to nothing about.

“And are you his only son?”

“No, ma'am. I am the oldest of five.”

A clanging noise was heard from her end of the table, as it appeared that Mrs. deBurgh had dropped her salad fork.

“Five?” She uttered. It was nearly a whisper.

He was about to speak when a voice was heard at the other end of the table that he hadn't expected.

“Yes, Aunt Kathryn. He has four younger brothers, two of whom are twins.”

Looking down the table, he stared at Felicity Darcy, who had barely spoken two words tonight, except to answer a question by her aunt. He wondered why she chose this time to speak. Perhaps it was to show that his parents had the archaic desire for a large family? Maybe even to show his age? He couldn't tell, and possibly didn't want to know.

Her aunt, at the other end, appeared to have swallowed her tongue, or so the look on her face suggested. This was not to be the case for long, however, as she spoke after a minute or two.

“And your brothers, how old are they?”

For some reason Eli hadn't been expecting this question from her. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't think she would have any interest in that. But he would answer her, as there was nothing greater than speaking about his brothers—most of the time, anyway.

“Richard and Jean are twenty-seven, Henry twenty-four and Geoffrey is twenty-one.”

There was a hearty laugh from the other end, and Eli sent a questioning look to Andrew deBurgh, who was sitting next to Felicity.

“I'm sorry, but I just find it amusing that your brothers were named after the Plantagenets.”

Eli cracked a grin. So this guy knew his history—or at least his movies.** “So do I, Andrew. So do I.”

His attention was drawn back to Mrs. deBurgh as she continued her interrogation about his family, his work, and his social life. When the questions about Mina arose, he almost made a total denial of a relationship between them when he heard Felicity's lilting English accent again.

“Yes, Eli, you must tell us about the earliest stages of your relationship with our wonderful Ms. Collins.”

Before he could say anything to take that smirk off her face, Mina spoke from across the table.

“Oh, I will always and forever be grateful for the day I met dear Eli. Some of the best days of my life followed that one.”

Eli found a hand over closed eyes during that statement. It could be taken so many ways, and it seemed that everyone at the table had taken it the way that he didn't want it to. Unfortunately before he could speak, Mina had continued, smiling at him.

“Why, not a week after meeting him, his family allowed me into their beautiful home and shared their Thanksgiving holiday with me because you and your family, HM, were out of town. Eli and his family have been so wonderful to me, and for that I will be ever thankful.”

Eli wasn't sure if he'd ever blushed in his life. But he did now. It must have been very apparent as well, for Col. Fitzwilliam to come to his rescue.

“Okay, let's talk about something else, I'm beginning to get nostalgic.” Meghan Fitzwilliam had a slight southern drawl that was not apparent in her sister, and Eli wondered why.

Since they were sitting next to each other, Eli turned to her and smiled brightly. “Alright then, tell me about you.”

The rest of dinner continued as it had been before, with small conversations about random topics. Occasionally Kathryn deBurgh would insert her opinion into someone else's conversation, but would not hold any real conversations herself. Instead she pondered on the lives of everyone else at her table.

Felicity and Andrew were getting along very well; she wondered if there was anything that could possibly progress from that. They were not blood relations, and they had known each other since they were very small. Both were from good families. She would ponder more on that later.

Mina and Eli she could do nothing about. They were probably well suited, but this was not her concern. She supposed she would promote the match while they were here—though she could not condone the pair living under the same roof. What would it say to her students? No, perhaps she could convince him to reside in the house, where he would be far away from Mina's bed at the wrong time.

Never did she think about why her niece had known about Eli Bennet's family.

*Ars Baccalaureate, Bachelor of Arts degree, received at the culmination of undergraduate studies for certain areas of study (Not certain which areas receive a BA or a BS).

**The Lion in Winter is a film (made first starring Peter O'Toole and later starring Patrick Stewart) based upon the play of the same name about a holiday gathering of Henry Plantagenet, Eleanor or Aquitaine and their three surviving sons, plus a few guest appearances along the way.

Chapter Twelve

The next afternoon found Eli once again escaping the prying eyes of the teacher's lounge to take a walk in the wilderness surrounding the complex of buildings. The scent of the air was so much different than that in the city. Even the trees smelled different than the same kind of tree in DC. He breathed in nature, and exhaled the decayed feeling of one who has lived in the city for too long. There were times he almost envied Richard for being able to travel into such places as he'd seen—endless stops from end to end of the Mediterranean in particular—and then would realize what kind of job Richard really had, and would not be able to understand how one could live their life in such a way. Just the thought of his brother, the knowledge that there had been no word about him for so long, wrenched at his heart.

It did not help his poor heart when, after a turn in his path, he came across Felicity Darcy sitting on a stump rolling a small pansy through her fingers. She got up immediately upon seeing him, and, stuttering, requested permission to join him, not giving him the time to answer upon hearing her question.

The two walked along in silence. Occasionally Felicity would look up at Eli and open her mouth to speak, but she would immediately turn her face back to the ground and continue walking in silence. He didn't know what to make of these instances, and instead remained silent himself and enjoyed the nature as much as he could with her by his side.

The walk could not last long, as both had to return inside. In silence, the pair ascended the steps at the front of the building and entered the doors. Eli turned right inside, headed to the teacher's lounge, while Felicity, headed to her office, turned in the opposite direction. Not a word was said from either upon their parting, and at least one of them did not particularly mind.

*.*.*

Eli had barely had the time to reach down to the bottom of the machine to grab the soda he'd just bought before Mrs. deBurgh stuck her head in the door asking to see him across the hall. He grabbed the soda and strode out behind her, unsure of what this meeting would entail. He was not a member of her staff, how was it that he had incurred her displeasure?

She clicked in front of him until she reached her desk, at which point she turned and leaned against it, a pose that Eli had become familiar with in the past days. Directing him to a seat, she took no time with pleasantries and cut straight to what she believed was her business.

“Young man, I do not believe that it is morally right for you and Wilhelmina to remain in residence together during your stay in Kent City. It does not give the right message to the students. I will not allow it to continue any longer.”

Eli laughed, almost incredulously. “Mrs. deBurgh. Are you attempting to tell me that two grown, legal, sane adults should fall under your jurisdiction and order? That you have any right to allow me or anyone else not in your staff to do anything is utter—“

“Aunt Kathryn? I was—“ Felicity stopped immediately, surprised that anyone else was there. She especially hadn't expected him to be there, as he had picked up the habit of hanging in the teacher's lounge during her and Mina's planning period. “I'm sorry, I'll come back later.” She turned to leave but her aunt called her back.

“No, Felicity, come back. Help me make Mr. Bennet understand just what kind of example he's making living in sin with Wilhelmina and that he needs to move into my house, where everyone is safe!”

Felicity was floored. What had she gotten herself into, even if only by accident? What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do? Say, “Yes, Eli, why don't you move in with us and we can live in sin” while pulling out Mina Collins' wavy two foot long strawberry blonde hair? It was their relationship, for heaven's sake! It was not her job to break them up. And if Kathryn wanted him to leave altogether, well that was just unacceptable. She'd developed a plan to draw him away from Mina by spending time with him every chance she got, including out in the woods, if he decided to pursue the habit of walking out after lunch every day. She had to admit that Eli living in the house would definitely make her plan easier, but she was sure that he would go insane in a house like that. It was nothing like he'd lived in before.

Eli had taken her silence as an indication of his own feelings. “Have no fear, Felicity. This is one hook I do not plan on biting. I'm not moving out of Mina's”

“I'm not afraid of you,” Felicity laughed. “You can live in sin with whoever you want as long as it's not under my roof.”

“Oh, I see this is just a big joke to you.” Eli turned to Kathryn. “I'm sorry, Headmistress, but unless you plan on taking some type of legal action, you're not getting me out of that apartment. Especially not to live with you!”

Nodding a good day to the ladies, Eli turned from the room and marched down the hall to where Mina's class was about to start.

After the door had closed loudly, the pair looked at each other. Kathryn sighed and walked back around her desk to properly sit in the chair instead of on or against the desk as was her custom.

“How is Anna?”

Felicity dropped into the nearest chair, which happened to be across the room from where she was standing. “She's as good as she will be, I suppose. Daddy put her in that horrid place and she thinks…well, I don't know what she thinks. She won't talk to me. She's practically a grown woman and she won't talk to me. She never…” Felicity stopped before she got worked up. The worst thing that she could do was to have a breakdown in front of her stoic aunt. No.

“She's getting better, under the circumstances. Will you excuse me?” And with this last, she fled from the room.

*.*.*

Andrew had been searching all over. Finally, he looked towards the window seat at the front of the house, not surprised to find her there, like a kid come home after school. He'd remembered something this morning that might have interested his younger cousin, but he hadn't been able to find her during her lunch period or planning period. She was lost. Or she had been, until he'd finally remembered seeing her for days on end (well, while not in class) perched in that window seat, staring at the school with her mind in another world.

“Hey, cuz.”

Felicity turned towards the voice and groaned when she saw Andrew. “What do you want, Andrew?” Turning back to look out the window, she didn't bother to wait for an answer before drowning herself in her own thoughts.

Picking up her feet and placing himself on half the seat before she got the chance to protest, he settled himself in with her feet on his lap. One watching the pair from a distance might believe the intimacy a romantic one, but as they moved closer they would see the less-than-loving glint in Felicity's eyes and the playful big-brother-type look in his own.

“As much as I would love to torment you today, another issue has brought me to your side.”

The look she gave him was an annoyed one, one that might have said “well then, spill it!”

“Have you ever looked at the pictures on Mina's desk?”

“Of course I have! She does sit across the room from me, you know.”

Andrew snickered. “Well, then, I suppose you've seen the one of her staring lovingly at her boyfriend.”

“What do you mean? There are no pictures of Eli on her desk.”

“I didn't say `Eli', I said `her boyfriend'. I don't know who the guy is, but I wish I had someone staring at me like that…” For a moment Andrew had a wistful expression on his face as his eyes were absently drawn up, towards the second floor of the house.

Felicity's eyes were suddenly soft. “Don't worry, love. She'll come `round.”

He barked a quick laugh. “Keep telling yourself that, if it makes you happy. I, on the other hand, know how useless it is to fall for a woman who gave her heart to something much bigger than I almost 20 years ago.”

“You know, for a man, you sure are a dolt, Andrew. Oh wait, the two are synonymous.”

He gave her legs a smack. “That wasn't nice, little cousin.”

“Please don't call me that. I'm not your cousin.”

“Sure you are. Kathryn's your aunt. She's my aunt. We share an aunt; we're closer cousins than Juliet and Tybalt.”

Felicity scoffed at his use of Shakespeare to get his way. “Fine then. But I won't say that I like being called your little cousin when half the world thinks you're in love with me.”

“I believe,” he said, holding up his pointer finger, “that the consensus is that you are in love with me.”

Staring at each other, the pair burst into giggles until Andrew sobered the both of them. “But we didn't come here to talk about me. So anyway, it's a picture of Mina and a guy a bit shorter than Eli, though, now that I think about it, he does look kind of like him. They're both smiling, but I can tell that there's sadness intermingled with that happiness. It's in the eyes.”

“When did you become such a sage?”

“Shh. I'm not finished. So anyway, the picture of them is out on an airfield, with him carrying a knapsack in fatigues. Eli wouldn't happen to be in the army would he?”

“No but his—“ Felicity stopped short. His brother! Richard was a marine! Mina must be with him! Then why is Eli here? “If Eli isn't Mina's boyfriend, then why else would he be here?”

“Visiting a friend, maybe?”

“Then why would Mina be waxing poetic about him all the time?”

“I've never heard her waxing poetic about Eli specifically, Felicity. Usually it's about Eli and his family.”

Felicity sat in contemplation, ignoring Andrew completely. It was possible that he was still talking, but she didn't have the ear for it. Instead, she was contemplating this change in situation. So, Eli didn't have a girlfriend. If he did, Mina wasn't it. For all she knew now, Eli was free. Mina was taken. And as far as Felicity could tell, Mina wasn't the type to cheat on the man she loved—and if she could take Andrew's word on the look in the picture, it was love—and especially with his brother. No, Eli was here for another reason—and what it was, she really couldn't care, it wasn't for his lover!

Turning towards Andrew, who was still talking, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and got up to figure out her game plan.

“Just tell her you love her!” She shouted behind herself as she ran up the stairs. You know, it's not a bad idea to follow one's own advice. The only question was, when?

*.*.*

For the rest of the week the daily practice of Eli going for his walk and Felicity showing up somewhere in the middle to continue alongside him in silence continued. He was not sure when she got the chance to make it to the clearing before him, but he was not about to ask her.

On Friday, Eli managed to sneak out in the afternoon before Felicity's class. Hoping to avoid her and walk in peace, he walked in the woods a bit closer to the Headmistress' house, a ways away from the school itself. For a few minutes he managed to catch some alone time, but he soon heard footsteps. How does the woman manage to find me all the time? Did she put a track and torture device on me when I wasn't looking?

He turned, ready to do battle, only to be delightfully surprised at the appearance of Meghan Fitzwilliam, who also appeared surprised.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't expect anybody to be strolling through this neck of the woods during school hours.”

Eli smiled. “It's alright, I didn't think anyone would be here either. If you'd like some privacy I wouldn't mind—“

“Oh, no, hon, you're fine. Come, stroll with me.”

He did. It was different seeing the good Colonel out of her uniform. He had to say, she was even less intimidating in comfortable looking jeans and a white tee, her light hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked much younger, too.

He broke the comfortable silence with a question he might or might not be shot for. “If you don't mind my asking…” Uh oh. Never start a question with “if you don't mind my asking…” “…how old are you?”

She laughed. “You expect me, a woman whose sister is already going gray and who wears the insignia of a Lieutenant Colonel on her shoulders every day to tell you how old I am?” She laughed at his horrified expression. “Don't worry hon. I may know how to use a gun but I won't use it on a poor man who makes the same mistake as the rest of them.”

She suddenly got a wistful look in her eye when she said that, one that Eli could not mistake. She'd been hurt. Either that or her love was unrequited. How could someone not love this woman?

“Whoever he is,” he told her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “if he's made a mistake stupid enough to hurt you, he doesn't deserve you.”

She smiled wanly, and placed her hand on top of his. “Oh, it's not like that. He just isn't smart enough to see love glaring at him across the table.”

With such a statement—and the memory of Meghan and Andrew deBurgh sitting across from each other Tuesday night—it wasn't difficult to guess who the Colonel had set her cap for. And if his memory served him right, the feeling was not unrequited. There'd been a hint—no, a blazing fire—of jealousy in the health teacher's eyes that night; he'd noticed some hostility from the man but had just realized where it had stemmed.

Well this was interesting.

“Meghan, the last thing I want to do is to cause you pain, so how about we change the subject.”

Meghan was thankful, as she was on the verge of a breakdown. “Okay. I believe you were stupidly asking a woman over 21 her age.”

Eli had the grace to blush. “I'm sorry, I was just curious, you look so much younger out of uniform.”

She smiled, both at his blush and at his observation. “Okay, but it's a secret. No one can know.”

The playful glint in her eye gave away the seriousness of her tone and he mocked stoicism as she glanced around suspiciously and whispered a number into his ear.

He was surprised to hear the number. “So young! How did you reach Lieutenant Colonel so quick? Join the Air Force in swaddling clothes?”

“My dear boy, I never wore swaddling clothes. And I'll tell you what, it took me a lot of hard work to get that silver on my shoulders. I also did Air Force ROTC in College.”

“Wow. You are quite a woman, Meghan Fitzwilliam.”

She smiled for the umpteenth time in a matter of minutes. “It runs in the family, you know. My sister is a bit too much of a woman sometimes, and Felicity's mother, well, she was quite a woman, too.”

This brought Eli up short. He hadn't heard Felicity speak of her mother, ever, but he hadn't realized it was because she was no longer living.

“Are both of Felicity's parents dead?”

“Oh no,” she laughed scornfully. “George Darcy is alive and well, living in his own dream world in Retirement. He was a Navy Judge, you know.”

No, I didn't.

“But on to other things, shall we? How long have you known Felicity? Kathryn might not have picked up on it but I sure noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

She was silent for a moment, and then waved her hand in the air, dismissing a thought, “Nothing. When did you guys meet?”

“Election night. My parents were having a party and she worked under my father.”

“Oh, right, her attempt at teaching college students not much younger than herself. I knew that was no good.”

Eli swallowed. “It must have been…interesting having a little Felicity for a niece.”

Meghan couldn't help repeating something Kathryn told her students all the time. “Interesting is a word that can mean anything and everything.” Before Eli could respond, Meghan continued. “But yes, having a niece that could be my sister was…interesting.”

“Are you that close in age, then? Closer than you and `the HM'?”

“Yeah. It can be annoying, but if there's anything to say about the girl, she's loyal. Family, friends, friends who are like family. She'll do anything to keep any one of us safe. I think that sentiment was passed down to her from her father. Fortunately for us it didn't come close to getting her killed like some people. But we can talk about that another time.

“Felicity has had to go through some tough shit in her life and she came through it marvelously. She looks after her sister better than her father ever could and she makes sure that her friends are safe, happy, and loved. Take her best friend for example. They've been best friends since high school. People used to think those two would be the type to get married right out of high school—though nobody realized that there was nothing but friendship between the two. At least until the middle of high school and he turns around and tells everybody that he bats for the other team! We-hell, if Fee hadn't been around to stomp on the stupid boys who dared to threaten her best friend…let's just say that Vermont would be short an excellent congressman.

“Anyway, even recently, I hear she saved him from some major heartache with some kid up in DC.”

“'Saved him'? How do you mean?”

Meghan snorted. “I don't know the particulars, only that there was something not right about the boy. Poor Charlie, he was apparently already lost and Felicity made sure she got him out of that fast. Something happened on Christmas, though. She dropped everything on Boxing Day and bought a fifteen-hundred dollar plane ticket to Vermont. No clue why. But when she came back she was pissed off and ready to kill. I kind of feel sorry for the poor sap that gets caught under her stiletto.”

The conversation moved on to different topics as the pair walked, until Eli realized that he had to get back to class. It was his last day and the girls would be disappointed not to see him.

But he was glad when that day's classes ended, as he would not have to see the woman again. If he'd had any more contact with her, he wasn't sure he'd be able to refrain from strangling her.

Chapter Thirteen

You came, I was alone.
I should have known you were Temptation.
You smiled, luring me on.
My heart was gone.
You were Temptation…

Listening to Mario Lanza bemoaning Temptation's hold on his heart, Felicity couldn't help but relate. Only in this case, Temptation had a very short name and was very much nearby.

Temptation, I'm your slave!

She wasn't sure if she was willing to give that much to him, yet; but she could say that Eli Bennet had her heart. She couldn't stop thinking about him. Every time she closed her eyes he was there on the backs of her lids. It's like an obsession. I don't like obsessions. Something had to be done. She had to tell him. It was the only way.

“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”

6:24. No time like the present, right?

*.*.*

“But really, how are you, li'l bro?”

Eli and Jean had been having the most roundabout conversation for the past half hour. Constantly, Eli would try to discern his brother's present mood and condition and constantly Jean would turn the conversation towards something else.

“Work is good. I'm glad I came back to Boston, there was nothing to do in DC.”

“That tells me nothing about you.”

“I'm fine, Eli,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “I promise. I'm a big boy, y'know? I can handle a bit of life.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Silence.

“So there's still no word about Rich, but Colonel Wickham has sent his condolences. He's devastated. You know how fond he is of Rich. The letter he sent was really heartfelt; he says he won't rest until he finds Rich, dead or alive.”

“I'm sure Mom liked that one,” Eli laughed.

“She damn near tore the page in half.” Jean laughed as well, hollowly.

Eli decided he would try one last time. “So you weren't needed at home?”

There was a pause, and then Jean sighed. “I just couldn't bear to stay there for very long. Charlotte still needs the apartment and I couldn't help getting this feeling in my chest every time I set foot inside. It's like his ghost is following me everywhere and he's not even dead. But here in Boston, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me while I'm here. Not at all.”

There was another pause before Jean declared quickly that he had to run and they would talk again tomorrow. Before Eli could say anything more Jean had hung up and there was silence coming through the receiver.

Well, this has been an interesting day, indeed, he thought. Very informative. First that enlightening conversation with Meghan about the true reasons Charlie wasn't in DC any longer, and now this. He wasn't sure he could take anything else surprising, enlightening, or heartbreaking today.

*.*.*

Breathe, girl. Breathe. You've decided what you want and now you have to go for it. He likes you; it's obvious. He knows you like him. But he's too modest to make the first move, meaning you have to be the bold one for once. Come on.

Felicity was standing outside Mina Collins' apartment building, pepping herself up to make her declarations to Eli Bennet. She had never done anything like this before and didn't expect to do anything like it again. But at this point, it had to be done. And it had to be done now.

Reaching forward, she pressed the button she'd been staring at for what seemed like hours. It had probably been closer to a number of minutes at the most. When a buzz informed her that the door was now unlocked, she went through, determined, never looking back.

*.*.*

Mina was well known to “lose” her keys and find them again in the bottom of her purse or under the passenger seat of her car or behind her desk at school. Thus Eli was not phased into thinking anyone else would be ringing the buzzer to her apartment, especially when she was out doing laundry and probably wouldn't have a hand for keys anyway. Thus he was surprised when there was a knock at the door. Mina always left the door unlocked when someone was inside. He didn't really understand the concept, but he did not go against her wishes and she knew that. So why is she knocking on her own door?

Ready to say something to her about her forgetfulness, Eli opened the door quickly. All words were lost to him as he saw before him in the doorway not Mina carrying bags of laundry but Felicity Darcy, with a determined look on her face—though he could tell by her eyes that she was more frantic that she let on.

They stared at each other for a minute before Felicity asked “could I come in?” in that strange British accent of hers. She didn't wait for him to answer, merely walked through the doorway and took a perch in one of Mina's armchairs. Eli didn't say a word, merely closed the door and turned to look at her, leaning against it.

Felicity was already anxious, and having Eli tower over her in the corner was not making it any better.

“Won't you sit down?”

“Funny, I thought that was my line.”

“Well I'm already sitting. Now it's your turn.”

Sighing, Eli rose and strode to the couch, sitting near Felicity but not too close.

They both sat in silence for a while, until Felicity asked after Mina.

“She's out doing laundry. There aren't any washing machines or maids in this building.”

More silence followed, and Eli was beginning to go crazy. It was always like this if he and Felicity were alone together. Typically he didn't mind silence. But women, didn't they like to cover up the silence with something, meaningful or not? What was her problem? Selective mute? He would have thought that she was bored, except for the fact that she had come over on her own.

Something had to be said.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“No thanks.”

Silence.

Eli was confused. More than confused. Confounded. Especially when she got up and started pacing back and forth in front of him. It seemed like she was trying to say something, judging from her hand movements, but eventually Eli grew tired of watching her move back and forth and only glanced up when her charcoal pants crossed his vision. Finally, after God knew how long, she stopped, directly in front of him. Looking up, Eli was only slightly surprised to see her completely composed face looking down upon him.

She stood there for a moment, looking into his presently whirlpooling eyes. She had only recently noticed how many facets his eyes had. This was one of her favorites, when it seemed like he could stare into her heart. It was the only thing she needed to spur her on.

“Look, I've tried to stop thinking about you. It just won't work. You must know how madly—and I do mean madly—in love with you I am.”

Before Eli could get a word out, Felicity continued, saying that she didn't typically walk around falling for high-school teachers with obnoxious families, but for some reason it couldn't be helped.

“I've tried and tried to forget you, but when I think I have, knowing it's the right thing to do, you show up again either literally or somewhere in my imagination! I know I shouldn't be harboring this ridiculous fancy, but…I don't know what.

“After all, you do teach high school and have that horrendous hairstyle, among so many other things. But I've done my best to get over your family's indecorous behavior and love you for whom you are. Because I do, you know—love you, that is.”

Eli sat there, speechless, jaw dropped, for an indeterminable amount of time.

“Well? Say something! I've just laid my heart at your feet!”

Eli stood up and began pacing himself. He wasn't sure when, but at some point Felicity sat down to watch him, not giving up the way that he did while watching her engaged in the same activity.

“What am I supposed to say? Thank you? Well, Ms. Darcy, I thank you for the sentiment, but no thanks.”

She sat there, herself with her own jaw dropped.

“And this is all the answer I get? What do I need to do, prostrate myself at your feet? Get down on my knees and beg? I'm sorry, but I'm not that kind of girl.”

Eli couldn't help but shout a laugh. “And you think I'm that kind of guy, is that it? What kind of answer is it that you want, Felicity? Do you want me to strip and lie on the floor saying `Take me now' like some psycho Victorian chick? I'll tell you what, even if I did reciprocate your feelings a decimal, that is probably the worst declaration I've ever heard—you only `love' me because you can't make yourself stop? What kind of bullshit is that?”

“Oh, so I'm supposed to rejoice in my findings, eh? Mr. Ego can't take a few words of criticism?”

“You just insulted my career, my family…even my hair! This, from a snooty, stuffed up prude who can't seem to keep a job. How can you even dare to insult my career as a high school teacher when you have to go to your aunt to keep a long standing job?”

She opened her mouth to rebut but he'd already continued.

“And then you insult my family, you! Who tore mine apart! You're one brave bitch to go ruining not only my little brother's life but your own best friend's! You got a lot of coglioni*.”

“I have no clue what it is you're talking about. I did nothing to your brother that he didn't bring upon himself. I, on the other hand, saved my best friend from a man who was far from truthful. I admit that with pride.”

“Oh, you would.”

The two were both standing now, Eli near the door and Felicity in front of the couch. He knew if he moved away from the door, he would do something he didn't want to, so he stayed there, praying that she wouldn't inspire him to get a hold on that slender little neck of hers.

They stood silent for a few moments, both heaving from the ire circulating in the air.

“So this is what you think of me?” She said, breaking the silence. “That I'm out to ruin people's lives because your brother misled someone who's just like my own? What an in-depth study you've done on me, Mr. Bennet.”

“Oh, just you wait, Missy, there's more. Before then I learned just how deceitful you could be the day I met Colonel Wickham. I'm sure he went through hell because of you.”

Felicity's face had gone white at the mention of Wickham's name, but Eli figured it to be merely an implication of her own guilt. That was until her next words.

“You know nothing of Hell.”

These words, said in a chilling sottovoce, were enough to momentarily give him pause. Before he could bring himself to make any kind of reply, she strode towards him, speaking in her normal voice.

“Goodbye, Eli Bennet. You have all my sincerest wishes for your health and happiness.” With that, she gently nudged him aside and strode out the door, not allowing him to see the tears forming in her eyes.

*.*.*

Locking the door behind her, Eli trudged towards the middle of the living room, sitting in the first chair available. The chair Felicity had been sitting in. He still couldn't believe it. Felicity Darcy had been here. In this room. Telling him that she was in love with him. When had he ever given her the chance to fall in love with him? No, surely, she was mistaken with her own feelings. He didn't even like the woman—yes she was beautiful, but she was a cold beauty. The protégé of her severe Aunt Kathryn, in every way. He just hoped that she didn't go to one of her deBurgh family members about this—he had enough to handle. He was big and strong, no one could deny this fact. But Kathryn deBurgh could probably talk his head off and Andrew could certainly beat him to a pulp. What had Eli been thinking crossing and All-State-All-Around champion's most beloved little cousin? Not to mention Meghan? She had a gun, and knew how to use it…It didn't matter that he could defend himself, and that Felicity was the one in the wrong, they were her family…

Enough of that, he thought to himself. What was done was done, and there was nothing he could do about it, even if he wanted to. And he most certainly didn't. There was no way he would give in to Felicity Darcy, no matter how hard she tried.

Chapter Fourteen

Felicity sat down in the windowseat she'd recently been frequenting, and began writing. Her mind was in a whirl, but she was not going to let the accusations from him go unanswered.

“Don't worry, I am not writing this letter in order to renew my advances. I obviously disgust you with my feminine wiles and will importune you with them no further. I would, however, like to defend myself in the two implications of deception and ill-treatment that you placed at my feet this evening. I am not one to simply take false accusations and let them go without a fight, and I plan to make my position known.

“I want to tell you a story. But be forewarned, it's a long one, and one I've never told anyone before. I don't want to give you any grief about what was said earlier. I just want you to know the facts.

“I have been Charlie Bingley's best friend for fifteen years—maybe more. I have watched his ups and downs—I was the first person he came out to when it was dangerous to do so. I love him more than a brother, and don't want him to get hurt, or fail, in any manner. I have watched him build his career from nothing and I have watched him come very near to destroying it all with a promiscuous lifestyle. I had finally convinced him that he was not the Brian Kinney of Vermont and that he needed to focus more on his career than his bedpost. He was doing very well, until he met your brother. You must understand, gay or straight I would have protested anything that got in his way.

“I hadn't realized just how distracted he was getting until the night of the Big Party. He was his usual bouncy self but something in his demeanor was different. It was my surprise, of course, the next morning, to be awakened by my dearest friend Charlie creeping up the front stairs after slamming the door and coming into the house like a stampede, to employ a commonly used phrase. I knew after that that Jean would be a distraction and took it upon myself to make Charlie see reason. Surely Jean would not want to stand in the way of a budding political career?

“All had gone well with Charlie after the severing of ties until one day Charlie made a lapse in judgment and called Jean, only to hear a woman answering his phone. This led Charlie to believe that he'd been deceived all along, and I wouldn't say he was wrong. Jean never made any advances towards Charlie that were more than friendly. I did not act maliciously in this or any other deception that you accuse me of having participated in. I had thought that your brother was a very nice, deserving person; but anyone who hurts Charlie in such a manner does not have any of my respect.

“As for your concerns for the illustrious Colonel George Wickham, you must allow me to defend myself on that issue.

“George Wickham was a good friend of my father's for a very long time, and might still be today, if not for his disgustingly bad character and abhorrent misuse of others. I grew up with him as a type of favorite uncle who would show up bearing gifts. None of us would have guessed where exactly those gifts came from. We just accepted them graciously.

“It was ten years ago, though, when I discovered his true character.”

She stopped, images, memories of that evening returning to her.

She had been sitting on the couch watching television, keeping an eye—or ear, as the case was—out for her little sister Anna, when the doorbell rang. She had the door open—it was a Marine Base, there couldn't possibly be that many crazies running around—so it was merely a courtesy to ring the bell. Without waiting for her call, George had come in, slightly unsteady in his walking.

“Felicity, m'dear! Come give your Uncle Georgy a hug!” He'd staggered towards her, but she stepped back, making him reach for each side of the main hallway.

Smart enough to be afraid, she began to move back as quickly as she could, unfortunately backing herself into a corner. George, on the other hand, was still advancing, and making his way closer.

“Just be still for Uncle Georgy.”

She could smell the alcohol on his breath, but couldn't do anything to stop him. He was a marine and a lot bigger than her. She shrunk in size as he came closer, hands extended forward. He'd just gotten his finger down her neck to her trembling collarbone when nine year old Anna came running down the stairs yelling for her Uncle George. Smirking, George turned away from her, and before she could bring herself to say anything, do anything, he'd gone and picked Anna up, while she raved to him about her new grown up room, which she wanted him to see.

Thousands of things had been going through Felicity's brain while she watched Wickham and her sister go up the stairs. Nothing was coming through. She just sat there, trembling. Even when she heard struggling upstairs, she couldn't move. She had no idea what was going on, and this idea was agonizing to her. But it got worse—much worse—when he came back downstairs, his jacket open.

Slamming the front door shut, he strode towards her with a gleam in his eye.

“Aren't you lookin' all nice for Uncle Georgy today? Just like you always do.”

Her hair was free, dark ringlets curling over her shoulders and across her face, hanging down over her low cut red tank and reaching the top of her short black skirt. She curled up, attempting to do something, anything, but he was upon her in no time, ripping her skirt off and picking her up off the floor. He threw her down onto the couch.

“No cute young thing's first time should ever be on the floor,” he said jerkily, unbuttoning his pants.

She couldn't even scream.

He used her in every way imaginable that day, but made sure the battered, bruised part was only inside—not a trace of anything on the outside.

He'd smirked again when he was done, threw the throw on the back of the couch over her, and left her lying there, awake but comatose.

“When I finally got the nerve to talk to someone, I went to my boyfriend, Sam. He wanted to be Kurt Cobain—he had the hair, the clothes, the guitar, everything. After I'd told him what happened, leaving out the part about Anna, he called me a slut and decided I'd made up the story as an excuse for losing my virginity to someone that wasn't him. “Just look at the way you dress,” he told me. “You want someone to fuck you, and it's obviously not me.” Needless to say, he broke up with me immediately. This was a guy I'd trusted with my life, and he shattered my heart and my psyche. I cried for days and finally ran to Charlie, but I was so broken I couldn't tell him what was wrong. That didn't bother him, though. He just comforted me like a real friend should.

“But that wasn't the end of it. When I came home from school the next year, Anna was old enough to look after herself, so Daddy—my father—had left her alone. I hadn't felt right about leaving her alone when I went to Georgetown, but Daddy said she'd been taken care of. I hadn't mentioned the events of the year before to him, afraid of a recurrence of what happened with Sam. I should have said something earlier. If I hadn't been seen such a stupid coward what happened next wouldn't have. I had been so ashamed, so much so that I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone that someone my father trusted with his life had done such a thing. But even greater was my guilt, for had I said something, anything then, something to place even a shimmer of doubt on the table about him, Anna might have been spared the repetition of something so horrible.

“I didn't recognize the car out front when I got there. When I went inside I heard struggling upstairs, which brought back memories that I'd tried to repress. I ran upstairs to find Anna on the floor screaming and Wickham making disgusting comments about being nice to Uncle Georgy.

“I don't know where I got the strength, but I managed to get him away from her and called the MPs. Something almost got done but my father let him fall through the cracks, never believing his best bud George could do anything wrong. I pleaded with Daddy to try more when one of his colleagues dismissed the case, but he just gave me a mental pat on the head and practically sent me along on my way. He didn't see anything strange about his ten year old daughter, who was once the most lively girl on the block, never speaking; not at home, not at school, not to her friends. She had completely closed in on herself.

“That same year Anna had a breakdown and stabbed a kid at school. His name was George. My father believed that putting her in an institution would be the best thing for her, but she's been there for nine years and the doctors are not speaking of discharging her anytime soon. It tears at my heart to think that if I'd done something, said something sooner, she would be fine and safe, maybe even at school now. But that will never happen. She's nineteen now, and there has barely been a change in her demeanor. No one knows how long it will be like this, or if there's any way to bring her out of that cocoon that she's built around herself. God knows I can't do it. I can't do anything. Nothing. I destroyed my sister with my silence and for that I don't think I can ever forgive myself.”

Felicity had to blink several times to keep her tears from falling all over the paper. If she destroyed this copy, she wouldn't have the heart to write it again. Perhaps she should destroy this one, she didn't know why she was writing it in the first place.

Because he has to know. And because I trust him.

“I didn't write this to change your mind about me or to incur your pity. I merely wanted you to know the truth. I hope that you believe me. I'll only add, God bless you. May it be whichever God you wish.”

She stared at the last few words for a few moments, contemplating them. Finally, after many pensive moments, she signed her name and folded the pages into a Rosings envelope. She planned on leaving it at Mina's when she got the chance.

*.*.*

That night, “April Showers” was not just an expression. Eli could typically sleep through spring storms at home, but here in the semi-wilderness was another story. He was up half the night, kept awake by the lightning's constant destruction of trees nearby and, he had to admit, by his own thoughts.

Now that the big fight was over, he couldn't help but be flattered by the attention he'd been paid. He was certainly no stranger to be propositioned by beautiful women he never met, and even by teachers and substitutes he worked with. But a pure declaration of love from a beautiful woman he'd never even decided to give the time of day to, well, that was something else. The sporadic lightning coming through the French doors in Mina's living room was doing nothing to help him sleep. Instead, he rose, planning to go towards the windows and watch the fireworks. However, he caught sight of something glaringly white lying on the mahogany coffee table, with the words “Eli Bennet” on it in a strong yet dainty hand, one with a commanding presence yet a feminine touch.

Reaching for his glasses, he grabbed it, inspecting it for who knew what. White powder? Ticking? No. Simply inspecting, like one always does when confused to the object of their confusion.

Opening it, he was surprised to pull out page upon page of even print. He pulled the last page out, and saw that it had indeed been signed Felicity Darcy. No illegible teacher script for this one, like his own. This was clear and straightforward, no extraneous curlicues, just the necessary lines. Kind of like the author, he thought, before returning to the first page.

Wow, he thought, she resorts to the big guns and the big words when she's writing—or is it just when she's angry?

However, as her story moved from page to page, his anger towards her dissipated. He told himself that this was yet another of her lies, but knew immediately that that particular sentiment was wrong. Why would she lie? No one would make up such a story—especially about their own sister. Not after so honestly admitting to her role in Charlie's permanent absence.

And that, he thought, touching upon the idea of her `breaking up' Charlie and Jean. That is definitely something to think upon.

Felicity had said that she noticed that the pair was getting close and had told Charlie that it was a bad idea. But that hadn't been the cause of the grand damage. Had she told that stupid secretary to tell Jean not to hold his breath? He couldn't really see her doing something like that, especially after thinking her word was God while telling Charlie that he shouldn't continue the relationship. But that hadn't worked, had it? The final `breakup,' which was pretty much just an end in contact, not feeling, occurred when Charlie disregarded Felicity's word and called Jean, only to think he was with a woman. He could never have known that the person was Charlotte, no matter how many times he'd met her, because he'd called in the middle of the night and no one sounds the same in the middle of the night.

But what to do now? This letter certainly didn't make him love her, but it cleared up any misconception of her being anything but a good friend with a tormented soul. All too suddenly, her words came back to haunt him, repeating themselves over and over.

“You know nothing of Hell.”

How could he have said those things to her, knowing what he knew now? As he thought of her being the same age as one of his students, having to go through such an ordeal and then not be able to tell anyone about it, not even her best friend, for fear of derision, tears sprung to his eyes. This was no heartless ice princess. This was just a girl, a troubled spirit who his teacher's heart couldn't help but pity, even if she didn't want it. What else could he do?

*.*.*

He'd been out in the sun for days. Out here, it was scorching in the sun and freezing at night. He'd stopped counting the days, but he knew there had to be thousands of them behind him. He was very surprised that he'd even survived this long. Karma for going AWOL, he supposed. You leave without permission, you pay the price. And dying from thirst, well, that was a heavy price to pay.

Taking a seat alongside a sand dune, he pulled out the water Donny had thrown at him before sending him off. It was running low enough that he could only drink drops at a time. Days like this made him wish Fremen stillsuits* really existed. Finished for now, he closed the green container and began trudging once more.

He rubbed his face and felt while doing so that he had a fresh beard. He didn't want to even feel his hair, which generally grew so fast that he'd been contemplating the purchase of his own barbering equipment instead of going to the post barber every few days to keep the stuff manageable.

He'd been trudging for quite some time when he saw the fiftieth oasis of his journey. The past forty-nine had been mirages. Was this one as well?

He wasn't sure. The others had been hazy in the sun and moved farther away the closer he got to them. This one was getting closer. Larger. A hundred yards away. Fifty. Within ten yards he couldn't believe it. Real vegetation! That meant water. That meant food. That meant life. Is this what lost knights felt like while traversing through the desert in a hundred pounds of chain mail, leaving their horses to the vultures? Had his namesake gone through this time and time again?

Breaking the cardinal rule of solitude and solidarity, Richard let his guard down as he swallowed the sweetest water he'd ever tasted. Before he could turn from the spring, he found himself surrounded by men covered from head to toe in black carrying weapons of all shapes and sizes.

The one who looked like he was in charge—he had the biggest gun—spoke. He spoke in Farsi. Richard didn't understand Farsi. The man tried again, this time in Arabic. Richard understood Arabic, but couldn't speak it very well. He shook his head. Hebrew came next. Not a word. Next the guy tried Amharic. Did this man not know English? Was Richard, very white and wearing American BDUs supposed to understand the native language of Ethiopia? What was next, Swahili?

“Where do you come from?”

Ah, finally, a bit of wording I understand.

“Thataway,” he said, pointing behind him proudly.

“Where do you come from?” The man repeated. This time his voice was loud and harsh. Even Richard's mind, saturated as it was with salt and sun, managed to sober itself up and understand the situation. These guys meant business.

Immediately he stood, towering over them all. But they still had guns.

“I was stationed at a US Army/Marine base in the capital and was lost on a desert excursion. If you would return me to the capital I will have done no harm to the present agreement.”

These words usually worked with your general run-of-the-mill National Guard types around here. However, these guys were not National Guardsmen patrolling the oases in uniform. They weren't even regular army guys. These were Guerillas, and he could tell. They weren't giving him to anyone, not until they got what they wanted.

Oh, shit.

What could he do? He was one; they were ten. They had guns; he had water. If he fought he would certainly die almost immediately, and for nothing. Perhaps he could go with them and inform them that he was of no use to them. No, he'd seen that movie and gone through that same training. Useless equaled expendable. Expendable equaled dead. No, he would figure out some way to get out of this alive, if only to see Mina and his family and to give Donny Sanderson the biggest kiss he ever got from a guy. He'd sent him from certain death to merely a possible one.

“I'm yours, gentlemen. But I don't know what I can tell you."

*Fremen "stillsuits" are a key ingredient to survival in Frank Herbert's Dune series that keep one hydrated by distilling one's own perspiration into drinking water.

Chapter Fifteen

It had been a long week, but he'd managed to get through it. Sixty teenage girls, a crazy old woman, a refreshing lady Colonel, and three very interesting, yet very different teachers. Mina, Andrew and Felicity. Mina, whose heart belonged to his little brother, an ocean and a desert away. Andrew, whose heart belonged to his girls and Meghan Fitzwilliam. Not that she knew that, of course. And Felicity. Beautiful Felicity. He'd said before that she was a cold beauty. But what was it really? Had her ordeal really turned her cold or had she created that hard exterior to cover her tortured heart? He supposed he would never know, considering he was now in his car on the way back to DC and she would be staying in Kent City with her aunt.

And he would not be returning there, judging from Kathryn deBurgh's reaction upon their last meeting. He could still hear her displeasure in the last “Good day, Mr. Bennet” she uttered. Meghan and Andrew had been nice enough in their goodbyes (they were each, however, a bit distracted with thinking the other had no feelings for them), and even Mina's girls had continued in their fawning through to the end. Mina had been as enthusiastic as ever, charging him with the passing on of any news he received, and promised to do the same if she got any word from Richard.

Mina had looked like she wanted to say something to him as he was leaving, but as he waited he realized that she would be doing nothing but gurgle like a fish. Eventually he could wait no longer, and left her to her gurgling.

She knew how to reach him if it was important.

The only person he hadn't heard from was Felicity. When he'd come to Mrs. deBurgh's house to take his leave it seemed as though she had never existed. There was no mention of her and she did not show her face. He would never be able to see or speak to her again, not even to clear the air between them and start afresh. None of that would happen now.

But he could not dwell on it. What to do about his brothers? Jean was in the deepest of funks because he thought he wasn't loved, and Richard was somewhere lost in the desert, with no one to look after him besides a lying raping pedophile. He could kill the bastard! No. He couldn't do anything but wait, no matter how much he wanted to do more. Too much was at stake.

*.*.*

When he arrived at his parents' house on Sunday afternoon, he was just in time for tea. Strangely enough both Henry and Geoff were there, conversing easily—well, “easily”—with his parents about school and grades and—of all things—girls. Henry had been out of school for a couple of years now, and Geoff would be graduating next month. So why were they talking about school?

After listening for a while at the entranceway to the living room he discovered why. Since her older three sons seemed to have no hope or chance to sire children any time soon, Eadyth Bennet was trying to convince her two youngest to continue their education and find a woman with brains to marry while they were at it.

Eli wouldn't spoil her dreams by pointing out that he and Richard had both gone to grad school and neither of them had been able to form a steady relationship. Those only happened in the real world. Sometimes.

Deciding to make his presence known to the ardent arguers, Eli pushed himself into the room and bent over to kiss his mother's cheek. She stopped speaking immediately and turned to smile at him. Her smile faded as an inspired light burst through her eyes.

“Eli, dear, tell your brothers that they should go to grad school.”

“Mom, I refuse to enter this. Everyone in grad school or law school or med school or bartending school is too focused on work and competition to develop a love life.”

“However much I agree with you,” interjected Dr. Bennet, “I have to side with your mother in the opinion that the boys should go to grad school. Not for the creation of grandchildren,” he said pointedly at his wife, “but for the promotion of their careers. However silly it may be to have an MFA—to have a degree saying you've mastered the fine arts! Ha!—you can do much more with it than an undergraduate degree.”

The argument between the five was not cleared up for the rest of the afternoon. Geoff just wanted out of school so he'd have time to work on his art. Henry would have like to go to grad school and get a Master's in Engineering, but he was already contracted with a big company. Dr. and Mrs. Bennet threw words around that were empty to one who didn't care, and eventually Eli gave up and merely watched. Finally, Eadyth realized that she'd left some tea cakes in the oven and had to retrieve them. After the biggest arguer of them all had departed, the discussion fizzled into nothingness.

Wanting dreadfully to change the subject, Henry asked Eli about his visit in Kent. Eli told a few diverting accounts of Mina's craziness, but had to admit that she was a great teacher. He also told them about Felicity, sans love declaration. Stories of the deBurgh family dinner and Kathryn herself kept his brothers and father amused, while the surprise of his encountering Felicity was apparent in Dr. Bennet.

Mrs. Bennet couldn't help expressing her opinion of the girl, still wondering about her relationship with Colonel Wickham. Eli wanted to say something, anything, many times about the goodness of one and the evil of the other, but the damage had already been done.

He went home to his windowside armchair and the Sunday Washington Post and spent the rest of the evening in said chair with said paper in his lap. Countless images were running through his head, and he realized just how bad his behavior towards Felicity had been. He'd been rude, mean, condescending even. Attributes he'd labeled her with scornfully. Oh, there were definitely moments when she'd been rude, but hadn't they all? Everyone at some point in their lives had behaved badly towards someone else. So why couldn't she? Her grandest moment had been at Mina's apartment, but what had she done but express frankly her reservations about a relationship with him? Admittedly they were wrong, but seeing the environment in which she grew up—living with her aunt every summer—he could understand where the frank expression of her thoughts had come from.

No matter how many times he tried to move his attention to another topic—any topic: the movie section, homicides, the new season of Law and Order, messages on his answering machine—nothing could keep him from wondering if she hated him. He could hold a grudge like the best of them, but the idea of someone hating him—he couldn't bear it. Sure, his students got made when they earned worse than food grades in his class and strangers were disappointed if he declined an offer of a drink, dinner or marriage, but hate him? No one he knew of had ever done that. At least, not till now.

*.*.*

“Where is it? Where is the command center?”

At least that's what he thought they were saying. With these guys, sometimes you didn't know what they were saying or even what language they were speaking. So this guy wanted to know where the “command center” was, did he? Whose command center? The British one? The Saudi one? The Israeli one? Most certainly not the American one? Did they really think the US Marines were that weak? A little pain and they'd give up every government secret in the book? Did they really think they'd get it out of him? Did these guys know anything?

A searing pain interrupted his questioning as another hot coil was placed against his gut. The third in twenty minutes, but he told himself he would not give them the honor of hearing him scream. If they wanted screams they would have to deal with another Marine. Because this one would not scream. He would not—

He let out a halting sound between a roar, a scream and a moan as four different sides of his body were attacked by hot rods.

He had to get out of here. Fast.

*.*.*

The weeks went on without much fuss. Still no word about Richard, and Jean still refused to come home. Eventually Charlotte and William Lucas were able to move back into their own newly finished house, leaving Jean's apartment vacant. Once Geoffrey graduated, receiving the traditional pair of cufflinks from Dr. Bennet, he moved in temporarily. He'd gotten a part time job at a pub on the Hill while he was working on his art and attending Bartending School—the professional program.

When Eadyth Bennet had tried to convince her sons to further their education, Bartending had been the last thing she'd thought about.

Eli kept in touch with Mina, who was done with school for the summer but had returned to DC to teach Summer School at one of the private academies run by a friend of Kathryn deBurgh. On occasion they might meet, discuss school, life, Richard. Neither of them heard any news of their missing loved one, however.

Eli was also teaching Summer School. His own high school didn't offer it, so he'd been loaned out to one of the larger schools, one whose halls hadn't been graced by the presence of a young, white, long haired male teacher since hippies ruled the earth. It was his first summer school experience, probably his last as well. One thing it did do was set him to wonder how a school could allow its students to pass through when forty percent of them couldn't pass a remedial English class. How did these kids make it out of the sixth grade?

He formed a good relationship with a few of the students who knew they could do better, and tried to convince the lazier ones just how important it was to know how to read in the world.

“You want to be an actor?” He asked a kid one day, who had earlier expressed his admiration of the profession.

When the student answered in the affirmative, Eli pulled out a four hundred page manuscript.

“What would you do if I were a producer who liked you and threw that at you with an order to know it in 48 hours?”

“I would tell you where you could put it.”

Eli laughed, in spite of himself. “Good luck finding a producer who hasn't heard that one many times before and hasn't found someone better for the part.”

There was another student who would randomly spout famous literary quotations when he thought no one was listening. This was the kind of student that bothered Eli the most. One who probably knew better English and English Lit than any teacher he'd ever had, but felt that being smart would outcast him; thus, he did worse than anyone else in class and pretended to be the dumbest kid in class, even the class clown, making stupid cracks about every hero or heroine that graced the pages. Eli had contemplated failing him merely for being so stupid, but instead decided to “out” him to all his friends.

“Today we're going to have an oral exam,” he began, to the accompaniment of loud groans. “I'm going to give you the first line of a poem, and you have to finish it.”

There were countless groans from his unsuspecting students, but he would not be derailed. “And I'm going to start with Rob.”

The young man in question was as surprised as all the others, but had a confident look on his face, probably sure he would fail this like he failed other things to keep face with his classmates.

Eli had done his homework, however, and had learned from one of Rob's former English teachers that he'd fallen in love with a particular poem a couple of years ago. Eli hadn't thought of using poetry in his curriculum at all, but this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

“So, Rob, I'll say the first line and you can continue. It's kind of long, but I'm sure you'll have no problem with that.”

Rob's classmates giggled, all thinking of how dumb the kid was. Rob's confident smirk was there as usual, and his eyes glittered in an intelligent challenge that only Eli could see. He smirked right back.

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary…”

He was satisfied to learn that the boy knew the entire poem by heart and didn't seem to mind reciting it in the middle of class. What surprised him, though, was the vigor he was putting into the recitation. When the narrator was frantic, so was Rob. If he was devastated, Rob was as well. Here was the actor. His final “nevermore” was greeted not by Rob being “booed off the stage” as he feared he might (once he'd come back to earth and realized what he'd done), but by thunderous applause from the entire class. It was like something out of a movie. Even Eli was surprised by this gesture from his classmates. His greatest surprise, however, would come from the rest of the class.

For the rest of the summer Rob's classmates convinced him to recite a new poem at the end of class every day. This was all the inspiration they needed, and soon enough they convinced Eli to have a poetry reading during the last class as a final project. Each student would write a poem, either in the style of their favorite poet, freestyle, or both. Everyone passed with flying colors, and Eli knew exactly what his plans were for next summer.

*.*.*

With two weeks before school was to start for teachers, Eli decided to pay a visit to his exiled younger brother. Jean's semi-permanent job in Boston didn't seem to allow for release any time soon.

Jean had agreed to the plan with great enthusiasm. He missed his big brother. He missed catching up on everyone's lives every week over food and beer. He missed being constantly bolstered by his brothers' never-ending support and strength. God knew he needed both now.

How many times had he picked up the phone to dial, if only just to hear Charlie's voice on the answering machine at 2AM? How many times had he considered going back to DC and storming into his office just to see his eyes, even if they were filled with indifference? So many times, yet he knew he never would. Fear is a stronger emotion than greed and he wasn't sure how much he could overcome one to satisfy the other. He wasn't the straightforward type, letting all before him know every thought, want and need in his mind.

Eli, on the other hand, was very straightforward. Sure, he had all the subtlety of a teacher needed for his students, but in daily life none of it mattered. Kind of the way he never hid his contempt for Felicity Darcy, who Jean had always liked. Even when they'd met up again Eli had complained of her presence. No matter how much they tried, the Bennets couldn't keep the scorn out of Eli's voice. Such a critical judge of character he was. But Jean wouldn't have him any other way.

When Eli arrived Monday morning at Jean's Boston flat, the embrace the brothers shared was as heavy and long as would be expected of two siblings who hadn't seen each other in months. Jean was the first to let go, telling his brother he needed a bit more space in the ribcage.

“My lungs, Bro, they need to expand.”

Talking a second to comprehend, Eli eventually loosened hold on his younger brother. “Sorry, Kid. Just happy to see you.”

“Yeah, man, I know. It's just, you know, I thought you'd want me alive.”

Eli chuckled and let go of Jean completely. “Okay, I get the point. Now, give me a couch, a bed, something. I'm not used to walking up so many steps!”

*.*.*

Jean, always having been a private person, took advantage of the company and went about spilling his guts to Eli the moment they sat down that first morning. When Eli wasn't surprised, Jean couldn't figure out if he was furious or disappointed. His first instinct was to say “Say something dammit! I just told you how miserable I've been for the past months and you don't have the decency to offer me a sympathetic noise!” And he had. Somewhere during the first few words Eli had jumped, appeared shocked and suddenly returned to normal. He would never know how similar his first words had been to those of Felicity Darcy.

“You didn't have to tell me, Jean, I'm not your typical ape-man. I sense and react to emotion.”

Jean couldn't help but smile at his brother's jest. Jean used to—very paradoxically, as Richard used to say—complain to his brothers, who would never understand, how dumb men really were, after a night out gone bad or something of the sort. His primary insult was calling someone an ape. Now his brothers used it to joke about everyone—themselves included.

“Yeah, I know. I was just hoping I hadn't been quite so transparent.”

“Jay, I'm your brother. Family. We grew up in the same house for well nigh fifteen years, plus. There's no such thing as opaqueness. Everything's transparent. First guy you liked, your freshman year of high school? The one with the cornrows halfway down his back and the “darkest dark eyes you'd ever seen?” Richard and I knew I think before you did. I'm your bro, Bro. You can't hide anything from me.”

The days moved much faster than either of the brothers had expected. They didn't really do anything; occasionally they went out for a drink—at a place where both could get an eyeful of their preferred gender. If Jean had to go to work, Eli went too, glad that Jean pretty much ran the office and that he didn't have to sit in the tiny corner of a tiny cubicle Jean would have shared with some Bespectacled Bitty who chewed gum like there was no tomorrow and answered her jangling phone in a nasally Bah-stun accent. In fact, Jean's office was quite large—if you could find anything.

“I thought you said you'd created a new filing system?” He'd said, when he saw pile upon pile of manila folders and loose-leaf paper.

“I did!” Jean responded, good naturedly. “But that doesn't mean that I've put it together or that papers have stopped coming my way.”

That had been over a week ago, and now Eli was returning to the Sweltering Hot Box that was DC in August. What exactly had good old George Washington been thinking when he pitched the idea of building the capital city of his new country directly on top of a swamp? And what had Congress been thinking accepting the plan? And they said this generation was crazy.

In three days Eli had to return to school, so he'd be leaving Jean's in the morning—if he didn't have a hangover from whatever it was Jean was planning for tonight. He might have said there were no secrets between the brothers but tonight was a total mystery to him. Neither of them had enough friends here for a bash; he knew Jean wasn't the type for a farewell party after only ten days of company. He really hoped his brother hadn't decided upon a plan of action like his 25th when Jean and Ritchie had hidden Eli's walled so he couldn't pay for drinks or worry about having to drive. He dreadfully hoped it wasn't going to be one of those evenings. Maybe it would just be a night of getting smashed and everyone paying for their own drinks. God knew they both had sorrows to drink away.

*.*.*

When it came to it, Jean's plans were as laid back as his present demeanor. Perhaps the party in the man had been drained along with his happiness. The two didn't do anything of note, just went out for a drink, after too many of which Jean couldn't stop crying about not having anyone anymore. Eli could have mentioned his brother's coming home, where there were at least five people who loved him, but he knew what would be said in response to that. No, Eli, I can't come home, it's too painful, there's nothing for me there, I'll just stay here and wallow in my own pity.

It was at this final meeting that Eli finally told his brother about what happened in Kent City.

“Felicity Darcy? In love with you?” In all his incredulity Jean accidentally spilled his drink. Lifting his hand to the wonderful bartender for another, Jean pressed Eli for more details.

“Come on, Bro, you have to tell me everything! I knew something was going on with her, and you thought she didn't like you!”

“I just thought our feelings were mutual! When would I have thought before that she had any feelings for me?”

“And now that you know she has feelings for you, do you still hate her?”

Eli hesitated. There were things he now knew about her that he couldn't tell anyone, not even Jean. What to do?

“Under the circumstances, I have to say I don't hate her anymore, if indeed I did actually hate her in the first place. But I can't say the same about the vice versa. I can only imagine what she feels about me, after all the horrible things I've said to her.” A tremendous surge of guilt made Eli completely sober, as the five words that had been haunting him day and night for months emerged once again.

“You know nothing of Hell.”

Visions of her pain and suffering—mental more than physically—mixed with too many Rum Tonics got to his head, and for the thirtieth time at least this summer, Eli wept. He wept for the girl who had lost her innocence to a horrible wretch of a man who now, ten years later, walked around slandering her name to people he didn't know. He wept for the sister he never had, a young girl with bright eyes who never had the chance to show her potential because of a warped bastard who got his kicks from abusing young girls. He wept for Felicity, for the knowledge that neither he nor anyone else could ever fully understand what she'd gone through or even try to understand. For the fact that the past ten years of her life had been lived in shades of gray. Even for the knowledge that he'd not had the sense to determine the right person to revere and the right person to revile. For all of these things he wept.

He couldn't stop. Nothing would stop.

*.*.*

Jean had never seen his brother like this. Eli wasn't a machismo type of guy, but he wasn't one to break down in a public place. The main problem was he didn't know what had brought it on. Weren't they just talking about Felicity? It couldn't have just been her, could it? Was Eli secretly in love with Felicity Darcy?

Nah.

So what was it? He supposed he would find out someday, but now it was time to go home.

Chapter Sixteen

So here it came, school's return. The students hadn't returned yet, but the teachers were all gathering. The first staff development and introduction of the school year had commenced, and Eli was glad to have something to think about besides Felicity.

Before the meeting, all the old teachers and the one new one gathered in the large conference room next to the principal's office and chatted about summers—vacations, postgraduate studies, summer school—until the start was declared by Dr. Reynolds, the school's principal for the past fifteen years.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I hope your summers went well?”

There was a murmur of affirmation and she continued. She handed out school calendars and went over general school stuff—when lesson plans were due, who was teaching what, what new programs were being initiated by the district or by the school.

“And speaking of new, while I'm sure you've met her already, I'd like to introduce everyone to our newest faculty member. She's new to the system so I'd like you all to be nice to her. Say hello to…”

Eli searched and searched for this new woman. He couldn't see anyone he didn't already know in the room. There weren't that many teachers at Pemberley High School.

Dr. Reynolds looked to a corner behind him and Eli began to turn, realizing the reason he didn't notice her was because she'd been in a corner, behind lots of teachers. He'd seen a woman earlier who hadn't looked too familiar, but it hadn't really registered. He'd only halfway turned around when Dr. Reynolds finished her statement.

“Dr. Felicity Darcy.”

*.*.*

Mina was sitting on the front steps in the front of Kathryn deBurgh's house, oblivious to everything. She was deep in thought, and only an earthquake—or the HM—would break her out of her ponderings. She'd only just gotten back from DC, and had come straight here, needing a place to think. These steps had been her thinking cap since she'd come to this school in seventh grade. Perhaps the genius vibes from the HM were coming her way, since she was so near her presence. Whatever it was, she needed it now.

How could she have waited so long? Why hadn't she contacted someone by now? Why hadn't she told Eli the last time they'd spoken, the first time they'd spoken? What was her problem? Richard trusted the man with his life; surely he would have known what to do. But had she gone to him? No. She'd sat on her hands, waiting for an answer to fall in her lap. And now Richard had been missing for almost five months. Oh, she'd tried informing the higher ups at VMI, but they wouldn't listen to her, a simple Classics teacher—hell, they wouldn't even see her! She hadn't even thought about going to someone in Washington about it. They would have laughed in her face if she'd just gone into the DoJ saying “I'd like to speak to the Attorney General, if you please?”

She put her face in her hands, shaking her head. What was she supposed to do? Richard was still missing and this CO—whose name had never been mentioned! Why hadn't he give her direct details, the big idiot!—

“What's the matter, hon?”

Mina looked up to see Meghan—who had spoken—sitting on one side of her and Andrew—who looked annoyed—on the other. Maybe this was the way to get it all off her chest, to tell someone who could do something—what could they do? Sure, Meghan had some pull but what could she tell them?

“I'm having a dilemma.”

Andrew groaned, but gave her his attention. “Maybe we can help.”

Mina shook her head. “It's not a love dilemma, lovers can't help me.”

Andrew and Meghan looked at each other over Mina's head. Had she just called them lovers? What was she talking about?

“What are you talking about? We're not lovers. We're friends. Family.”

Mina laughed at Andrew. “You're silly, that's what the two of you are! You two can never keep your eyes off each other! Each one of you is hopelessly in love with the other and I hope you'll forgive me, but somebody had to admit it!”

The pair looked at each other again, realization and understanding coming into their eyes. They both stood up, murmuring something private to each other, and Mina moved to return to her own home.

So much for her dilemma.

*.*.*

When Eli turned completely around, thinking perhaps his ears had been playing tricks on him, he was surprisingly delighted to see that they hadn't. Felicity Darcy was here, in his school. But this was definitely a Felicity he'd never seen before.

The meeting was not a formal one, so faculty and staff members had all dressed for a long day—in the most comfortable clothes.

Felicity was dressed in a pair of incredibly short denim shorts and a purple baby tee shirt with a strange white bunny and the words “I'm not mean, you're just a sissy” on it. Her hair wasn't pulled up into a twist as he usually saw it, but was hanging down her back in endless waves; though he did notice a band around her wrist that she could use to pull it back. There was a nervous smile gracing her features, and her body language was almost relaxed. She was not reserved or arrogant at all.

Dr. Reynolds asked her to introduce herself, but Eli heard nothing of it. He could see, though, as she laughed and joked with her fellow teachers. He vaguely heard something about an accent, and Felicity making fun of her own. Yes, this Felicity Darcy was very different from the one he thought he knew. As Eli drew his eyes away from her and looked around at the teachers in Humanities and Social Studies departments, he could tell that they liked her immediately.

After the meeting was over and the Principal had said her arrivedercis, the entire faculty and staff moved to return to their homes in their last reprieve before the students came. Eli nearly moved to speak to Felicity, but she didn't turn in his direction. He wasn't sure she had ever turned in his direction. But surely she'd known that this was his school? He didn't know what to do, but figured he would see her plenty in school.

He just hoped the kids wouldn't pick up on Mr. Bennet's crush.

*.*.*

She'd been thinking for hours, and nothing had come to her. Andrew and Meghan were probably off having the hot monkey sex of the repressed by now, so they couldn't help her. Richard had been counting on her and she'd failed him! What was she supposed to do?

Charlie Bingley! He was a nice enough man, he would listen to her without going off in the middle of her problem to get it on with somebody! But how could she reach him? He lived in DC, right? No, Eli had mentioned his working in Vermont, now, at his home office. Maybe she could find him there? But wasn't Congress back in session? Wouldn't he have returned? Maybe he didn't want to come back?

Mina! She stopped herself. Stop going back and forth like that or you'll start calling Richard your Preciousssss. Stopping herself immediately, she ran to the bureau drawer where she kept papers pulled out of pockets and purses. Digging around, she finally found Charlie Bingley's card, which he'd given her before she left his house with Richard with a laughing order to “Call me if you have any congressional trouble.” She hadn't thought she would at the time, and just thought it was cool to have a Congressman's business card, but now, she was definitely putting it to use.

She called, but learned from his secretary—Caralene?—that he was out of the office and wouldn't return today. She left a message with her, explaining who she was and that she had an urgent matter to discuss with him, whenever he was available.

Hanging up the phone, glad to be rid of the rude girl that was in Bingley's employ, Mina took a deep breath and plopped on her bed—she'd been pacing the entire time she was on the phone. The only thing to do now was wait.

*.*.*

“Hello?”

“Hello, Eli? I-I-It's Felicity Darcy.”

He'd nearly dropped the phone when he heard her voice. The meeting earlier today was so clear in his mind—well, except the part where she was talking. He hadn't heard a word of it, his mind was so foggy.

“Hi, Felicity. How are you?” How are you? There's got to be something better to say than that!

“Not much different from earlier,” she said, sounding as if she were holding in a laugh. “Look, I was wondering, that is—maybe you wouldn't mind—I know it might sound strange but—“

“Felicity! Out with it.”

There was a pause, and Eli was afraid he'd gone too far. Would she lose her temper? She definitely had a quick one.

“Would you be interested in having dinner with me sometime?”

Eli released the breath he hadn't known he was holding, relieved that she hadn't said something much worse, such as those two little words that everyone said nowadays. But it did sound strange, he had to admit. He thought she'd hate him after all those horrible, unfounded comments he'd made that day. He didn't even deserve her attention let alone a date. Wait—a date? The thing you were supposed to do before you tell someone you're in love with them? Was she wooing him?

“Sure, I'd love to.” The words came out of nowhere, but the silence on the other end made him envision her with a triumphant glimmer in her eyes. He couldn't know that her face on the end of the line was filled with a more innocent happiness and a smile from ear to ear.

The two begun to talk about nothing in particular, until Eli looked at the time. They'd been talking about anything and everything—except the obvious—for over an hour. Eli suggested they put the conversation on hold until dinner, which they had planned for the next evening at a nice little place in Adams Morgan; a little out of the way but worth the trip.

*.*.*

The pain was excruciating, but every night they dressed his wounds and every morning they shaved his face. Were they planning on doing something to it? They hadn't so far, but what other reason would there be for allowing him to shave? They hadn't cut his hair, which was the only thing helping him measure the passage of time. He could only guess that it had been a number of months since Donny had sent him AWOL, judging by its tremendous heaviness. Were they planning something for that, too? Some strange torture device that caused pain from the top of his head to the soles of his feet? The military hadn't trained him in Torture 101, so he had no idea what they were doing. He just knew they wanted something that he didn't have and wouldn't have given anyway.

*.*.*

“Okay, full name.”

The pair was lingering over dessert and Turkish coffee, Felicity having decided they needed to really get to know each other. Thus, she had begun drilling him for direct information.

“You'll laugh.”

She did. “No I won't. Just tell me.”

“Alright. Elischa William Bennet.”

“Elischa?” She asked, incredulous. “I thought your name was Eli!”

“Well, it's a little easier on the tongue, isn't it?”

She nodded, smiling. “So who are you named after?”

“My mother's father. He died a few months before I was born. My mother says I've got his spirit.”

“Hmm.” She thought for a moment. “So it's not your father, eh? I must admit I've always wondered what that E stood for.”

“I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you.”

She laughed at the James Bond look coming across his features. “Oh come on. You can trust me.”

“Can I?”

After a long pause, Felicity broke eye contact for a moment, but only a moment. Returning her eyes to meet his, she said in a soft voice, “You can.”

“Okay,” he said, bringing the playful tone back into the conversation. “But if you let slip that you know it I disclaim all responsibility of telling you.”

“Okay.”

Pause.

“Well?”

“It's Ethelbert.”

“Really?!?” She was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe.

Eli's breath was taken away by this new Felicity. Her laugh was melodious; he wished he could hear it more often—though tonight it had been heard quite often. Her smile shone, her eyes were aglow. Yes, this was the Felicity he could have found himself very much on the way to falling in love with in the first month of their acquaintance.

He watched her laugh for a few moments more before he resumed the conversation in order to keep himself from melting on the spot.

“Apparently mine wasn't the only father obsessed with naming his children after English kings. But at least mine picked good ones!”

Felicity was still laughing.

“Now, now, Missy. You have yet to give me your secrets.” Once the words left his mouth he wished they hadn't. He only wished she'd overlook his idiotic comment.

There was a short pause until Felicity took a long, deep breath and smiled again. “Okay. Felicity Siobhan Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“Shuh—Shuh-vahn?”

“Grandmother. Irish.”

“Fitzwilliam?”

“Mother's maiden name. Scottish.”

“Ah.”

“Favorites or families next?”

“You know my family.”

“And I've told you about mine.”

There was a pause as he looked down at the table, wrenched by the sadness in her voice. “Indeed you have, and I'm sorry to bring up a painful subject.”

“Quite alright. I brought it up, didn't I?”

He laughed. “So, Felicity, why do you have an English accent? I've often wondered.”

She smiled at his question, and the joking way that he pronounced her name, the way she had, British accent and all.

“You try spending five and a half years at Oxford and not having one.” The curving of her lips as she spoke cut the sharpness of her tone, showing it to be the playful jibe she'd meant it to be.

“Oxford for five years. So that would make you what, twenty-three?”

She laughed. “What, weren't you listening when I gave my introduction at school? Didn't you hear Dr. R. call me Doctor Felicity Darcy?”

“I have to admit I wasn't paying much attention. I think I was still in shock. What are you doing at my school, anyway?”

She pulled back, mockingly affronted. “Like I knew it was your school! I just took the assignment the office gave me. Had no idea.” She took a sip of her coffee, muttering “not a clue” into her cup. She finished and set her cup back down. “It's a good thing I had no idea, or I'd have been hard pressed to make my way over there yesterday morning.”

“You didn't even see me yesterday morning. How did you know how to contact me?”

“You think I didn't see you yesterday?”

“You didn't talk to me; you didn't even make eye contact with me!”

“I saw you the moment you walked into the room, Elischa Bennet.” Her voice dropped. “And it made me a bit uncomfortable. After all that happened, I couldn't bear to meet your eye.”

He sat there, stunned yet again. She blamed herself for that “conversation?” He had to distract her. Maybe she would forget this misplaced grief.

“Well it's a good thing you didn't,” he said playfully, as she looked up in surprise. “I wouldn't have been responsible for my actions if you'd actually looked at me.”

At her confused look, he simply winked, leaving her to come to her own conclusion. He was the one surprised seconds later, however, when a devilish glint crept into her eye, followed by an embarrassed blush. What had she been thinking?

The two looked at each other and laughed.

“I'm twenty seven, actually,” she said, resuming their earlier conversation.

“Impressive.” If he'd been set off but her sudden change of subject, he didn't show it. “Tell me all about your college history. I'm intrigued as to how a beautiful woman such as yourself could have managed to pull off a doctorate before thirty.”

She laughed. “I have it on record that you asked me, and I am not tooting my own horn.”

He laughed as well and urged her to continue.

“I did all of my undergrad work here at Georgetown. I got a Rhodes and got other scholarships for the years that that didn't pay for at Oxford. That way I managed to do all my post-grad study at Keble and King's College, with a bit of moving around between the other schools as well. Two years for my masters and three more for a doctorate. The last six months was spent looking for a position. When I couldn't find one over in the UK, I decided to try here, with my alma mater. They accepted my application and now I just have to wait for my tenure.”

They both sat in silence until Eli finally spoke again.

“Rhodes, eh? So what sport?”

She smiled. “Fencing mostly. But also archery, knife throwing and while I was there I developed an interest in Camogie.”

“What?”

“Women's hurling. For an American the only way I could describe it is a cross between soccer, lacrosse and baseball.”

He laughed. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. “Now that you mention it, I vaguely remember reading something about it in the paper. You know they've got a league here.”

“Really? I might have to join.”

“I'd love to watch, see just how good you are.”

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, each daring the other to move or blink; then both broke into laughter.

“Well, if you can stare me down across a table, I'd hate to be up against you on the field.”

They smiled at each other and Eli asked for a refill on his coffee.

*.*.*

These boys knew their weapons, they knew their torture, and at least one of them knew a helluva lot of languages. But they had no common sense at all. There was one, the poor fool, who'd been placed in charge of shaving him every day. The kid was good with a razor, but Richard could tell, even in his withdrawn, drunk-like state, that he hated it. He was probably fifteen or sixteen, and Richard saw him often looking at the guys with guns longingly—more than likely wanting his own.

Richard didn't want to, but if he was going to get out of here he had to take advantage of the kid's absentmindedness. He just had to figure out how to do it.

Reaching way down into the recesses of his brain, he pulled together the words in Arabic that he needed to say.

“Boy, what is your name?”

For a moment the boy was startled, probably having thought the white man hadn't understood his mumbling since day one. After moments of staring, the boy responded. “I am no boy, and I am called Ismail.”

“Ismail, why do you follow these men?”

“I follow my father, and the right way of Allah.”

“And who says the right way is to capture men who know nothing and have done nothing, placing them in such agony?”

“If my father says it is the way of Allah, it is the way.”

“If your father said that killing me was the way of Allah, would you do it?”

This gave the boy pause. The ropes holding Richard's hands behind his back were very near to being undone.

“Allah said to the Prophet that killing a man who has done you wrong may be justified.”

“He did, but what wrong have I committed towards you?”

Richard mentally apologized to the boy, as he was about to do him a very big wrong. He only hoped if he succeeded the boy wouldn't be killed for it.

Taking the coils he'd undone behind his back, he wrapped them suddenly and without warning around Ismail's neck, making sure to keep the kid alive. Having rendered him unconscious, he picked up the razor from the floor and began to venture out of this torture chamber and into the unknown. He just hoped his legs would hold him.

*.*.*

She couldn't believe it. He was here, sitting, eating, talking, laughing with her. There was no anger, no resentment, no scorn. Only smiles. She'd always thought he had the most beautiful smile in the world. No one exuded happiness the way he did. But she guessed one who could be so passionate in one emotion—which she'd most definitely seen one fine day in April—could be quite so in others as well.

Hmm, she thought. But she let thoughts of passion pass. Their new relationship, if one could call it even that, was still fragile, and she didn't know what could happen if it was dropped on the wrong side.

She banished these thoughts and looked into his chocolate eyes. How could I have thought him unattractive and coarse? He's absolutely gorgeous. She slowly reached out and even more slowly begin running two fingers through the locks hanging down over his face. She paid close attention to the chestnut strands, deliberately avoiding his strangled expression. The light breeze blew at the hair on the back of his head, causing it to stir the lightest bit. Gorgeous.

She'd worked her way halfway down the long thick strands when he suddenly jumped, reaching for his back pocket.

“Sorry,” he smiled. “My ass is vibrating.” She laughed as he looked at his phone, groaned, and flipped it open.

“Bennet…Jean, what's wrong? Jean, you have to slow down—calm down! You're not making sense! What's dishonorable? What do you—“

Felicity watched, confused, scared, helpless, as he dropped the phone. She didn't follow its descent, but she heard it hit the stones of the terrace, shattering.

“No,” he whispered hoarsely. He repeated the word, over and over, gradually getting louder until he was yelling, banging his fist on the table.

Felicity got up and knelt beside his chair, grabbing his hand, which was already bleeding. She was surprised to be crushed in his arms as he sobbed against her shoulder. She, afraid and still confused, rubbed his back, trying to soothe him, speaking to him in hushed tones as though she knew what was going on. He remained unspeaking, allowing himself to let go, glad that he'd had someone there to go to.

But she doesn't know, he thought, despairing. I haven't told her. What would she, as a General's daughter, think of my, of my family, when she's already had doubts and examples of their behavior? What would she say?

Sniffing one last time, he pulled away from her. Looking in her eyes, he saw the confusion there. She was kneeling beside him, on his side of the table, sympathetically rubbing his back. She'll understand. She loves me. She'll understand.

He stood, reaching into his back pocket and leaving to twenties on the table. That should be enough. He was still unable to speak without screaming. He took Felicity's free hand, willing her to stand. One side of his mouth turned up the tiniest bit, and he turned, pulling her gently behind him through the tables to the gate exit.

“I'm sorry about the scene I made,” he said, after a while. It had taken some time, but he'd managed to gain his composure. “It was just so sudden, though not wholly unexpected.”

She heard tears in his voice, and rubbed his back as she led them to a bench in the corner park across the street from the restaurant. It was still twilight, so she didn't feel she had to be wary of anything.

“It's okay, Elischa, you can tell me.”

Putting her arm around his large shoulders, she pulled him sideways towards her on the bench, silently letting him know it was okay to cry. With that incentive, he leaned over awkwardly, placing his head on her shoulder, and broke into fresh tears.

“Ritchie's dead.”

He buried his face in her shoulder, and she could do nothing but hold the back of his head, not worrying about her new dress or her hair getting frizzy. Be strong, Felicity. You must be strong for him.

Chapter Seventeen

After Eli had cried himself dry all over Felicity's dress, he kept his head down on her shoulder. There was an occasional sniff, but in general the twilight was quiet. Felicity had stopped murmuring when he'd stopped crying, and did nothing now but hold his head on her shoulder, stroking the length of his hair down his back. She just couldn't believe it. She'd had her tragedies, but this—this was heartbreaking. She didn't have a brother to lose, and she couldn't understand the idea of losing a sibling completely. Anna was lost, but she had the ability to find her way again.

After a while, Felicity offered to drive Eli home, as he was in no condition to drive. He protested, saying that it was out of her way, but she would have none of it. If he went on the road in his condition he would more likely than not get in an accident. And if she took him to his parents' house she could just stay the night in the townhouse, because she still had a key.

After much goading, she finally convinced him to give her his keys and the pair climbed into Eli's old bug. She initially had a bit of trouble with the stick shift, but got it moving eventually. They drove in silence and after she parked the car in front of Charlie's townhouse and left her condolences to the family with Eli she went into the house she hadn't entered since November while he went into his parents'.

The sight that greeted him was very much the expected one. The entire family had gathered, even Jean, who had been home for the past two days. They had reached the grief stage, and the uproar flowing through the house was nearly catastrophic. His mother had taken the news the worst, but how could anyone suppose any different. He was her child, after all. The four men were doing their best to overcome their own grief to calm Eadyth, who was the most unstable of the group. One minute she was screaming threats to Colonel Wickham and all those associated with the Marines for losing her son, the next she was silent, shoulders shaking repeatedly with sobs. The next she was back again, ready to rise in search of her best knives and go to Baghdad herself. Immediately Eli attempted to help, and the sight of her eldest somewhat calmed Eadyth.

Well into the night the Bennets sat in the family living room, the cycle of anger and pain repeating over and over, until they were too tired to even think.

*.*.*

Felicity woke very early the next morning, not rested at all. She had barely slept. The grief of the Bennets had kept her awake, literally as well as figuratively. When she'd entered the main room of the house, she could almost clearly hear Mrs. Bennet's pained cries on the other side of the wall. It hadn't been the noise, but the mere thought of losing a member of your family in warfare that had kept her awake until well after the silence of the night overcame the Bennets' troubles. To die so far away from your family or your friends, not being able to say goodbye to them, what must that be like? She'd at least been with her mother before she died, been able to say her last goodbyes and to hear her last requests. She couldn't imagine what it must be like.

But Eli had been so quiet in the car. What had drawn him away from her? Had he been embarrassed crying in front of her? She told him he shouldn't be. What was wrong?

She was startled out of her reverie by a knock at the front door. It was seven thirty, why was anyone coming to see her?

She got up and answered the door to a haggard Eli Bennet. His hair was a mess, his bloodshot eyes surrounded by deep circles and his clothes appeared to have been slept in.

“Eli,” she said, hugging him. She was pleased to feel him hugging her back. “Please, come in. I'll go get your keys.”

He gave her the same half smile that he'd given her the night before at the restaurant and sat in the nearest chair in the living room.

Felicity had already gone upstairs to get his keys from her room, which she had only realized when she got in the house that she'd forgotten to give back to him. When she got back downstairs, he looked a bit less bedraggled, but still tired. She offered him some coffee, and he appreciatively accepted, saying that he'd forgotten that particular detail before he'd come over.

When she came back from putting the coffee on, he began speaking immediately, angrily.

“He committed suicide, Felicity.”

She stopped immediately in her tracks, surprised by both Eli's sudden speaking as well as the contents of the sentence.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he growled. “He fucking killed himself. Apparently he had been found by an Army detachment in the desert, and had just been returned to his own detachment—hadn't even been back long enough to get word back that he'd been found—when he reached out and grabbed a friend's gun and ate a bullet.” He laughed bitterly. “'Ate a bullet.' That's what the bastard said. It doesn't matter what kind of fucker he is, he should have the common sense and compassion to think of my mother reading that little missive of his!”

“Why? How is that possible?”

“What the hell am I supposed to know? All I know is that the official papers say it was his hand on the gun, even if it wasn't his bullet or his gun. Not only does my family have to go through personal shit with both the Catholic and Jewish sides of the family but since he didn't “die honorably” we can't even get the body back. Mom's been screaming her head off since she got the news and Dad's in no condition to do anything besides lie down. He nearly had a heart attack yesterday, Felicity. Ten seconds of cardiac arrest. My brothers revived him themselves, not even bothering about an ambulance. Why would he kill himself, Felicity? He wasn't thirty yet, had made Captain, had a girlfriend, a family, friends who loved him. Why did he do it? Why?”

The last words were said tearfully, strangled. Felicity took it upon herself to sit beside him on the couch and comfort him yet again. She had no words for him, no answer at all. But this she could do. Along with finding out why.

*.*.*

For the next few days the family went about making the necessary phone calls and announcements. They couldn't make any arrangements as the State Department still refused to return the body to them. Apparently, even if they wanted to, Colonel Wickham and his detachment were very much separated from the remainder of the Marines and could not return it without danger to themselves. Or at least that was what they were saying.

Felicity was always there, on the sidelines, making sure Eli was okay. The rest of the family hadn't seemed to register her presence yet, but it was understandable. School would be starting shortly, and she knew she would be needed then, when Eli was at his most vulnerable.

Indeed, when class started the next week and no change had been made in the situation with the returning of Richard's body, Felicity found herself often in or just outside of Eli's classroom, checking on him. He hadn't made any type of formal announcement to the school, so only those closest to him knew of anything amiss in the family. She wasn't sure if she would have done it that way, but this was his life, not hers.

She worried for him. His sadness made its way into his teaching and he wasn't the exuberant, friendly guy she'd seen at Rosings on the occasion that she'd asked him to teach. His low mood was reflected onto his students, and they didn't put the enthusiasm into the earliest stages of high school humanities that he'd spoken of his freshmen before. She had her own classes to worry about, but whenever she had a moment she checked on him. She always stayed out of view, however. She knew he would not appreciate her checking up on him like some kind of nanny. He'd spoken to her in his time of need, but recently he'd been withdrawing further and further away from her. Perhaps he'd rethought the idea of going out with her in the wake of his brother's death. She didn't know, but she knew she would always be here for him, no matter how he felt about her. She loved him too much to let him go.

*.*.*

It was all her fault that he was dead. He might have survived had she and her stupidity not been the sole keepers of the evidence. What was she going to do? How could she go to his family now? After all they'd done for her? After…no, she had to stop before she cried. Well, what was wrong with crying? She had the right. She had every right.

Mina picked up the phone, well aware that it was nearing midnight but beyond caring, and dialed the number she'd known by heart for what seemed like ages. It had been ages since she'd spoken to him—really spoken to him. After Richard…well, they'd both had their own private breakdowns. Or she had, at least.

The phone rang for hours in Mina-time, though perhaps it had only rung five or six times. On the seventh ring it switched over to voicemail, but she didn't leave a message. If he wasn't there or he wasn't answering his phone, she wasn't meant to tell him.

Seconds later her phone rang. Recognizing the number she answered it immediately.

“Mina?”

She sighed in relief. He didn't sound angry. He didn't even sound asleep or sleepy.

“Eli, I have something to tell you.”

“Well, why did you wait till midnight to do so? I was on my way to bed,”

“Well, I'm glad I didn't wake you, but this is important. It's about Richard.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and then Eli's voice returned.

“What about Ritchie?”

“Well…” Mina's voice trailed off. How was she supposed to continue? “I knew before Richard died that he would?” But how could she ever know that he would be captured by militants and run off, only to be lost under the guise of shooting himself? How was she supposed to convince anyone that Richard would never have killed himself in the desert? How? There was only one way.

“Richard didn't kill himself. He was murdered.”

It had all come out in a rush, so much so that she wasn't certain that Eli had heard her, or understood her.

“Eli? Did you hear me?”

There was still silence on the other line, but a hint of breathing told her he hadn't hung up.

“Why are you doing this to me?” The voice was almost painful to listen to in its agony. Mina was confused. What had she done? She'd brought him the truth, no matter how late it had come. She chose not to answer his question and continued with her facts.

“Richard used to write to me, all the time. He wrote about life, the desert, his friends, his fellow officers. But shortly before he went “AWOL” he'd been writing to me of his doubts about his commanding officer. His last letter to me detailed what it was the Colonel was doing, how he was doing it, and who he traded with. He told me to take it to the proper authorities and I never did, unsure of whose hand was in whose pocket and who I could trust. That doesn't mean I didn't try. I tried contacting Congressman Bingley, but the man practically doesn't exist anymore. And now Richard's dead and it's all my fault if only I'd said something done something told you told your father told the HM none of this would have happened and I'd be happy and you'd be happy and Felicity would be happy and everyone would be happy but now I've gone and destroyed everything including people's li—“

“Mina!! Calm down! Breathe! It's over, there's nothing we can do about Wickham or anyone else.”

“Oh yes we can.”

“And what's that, short of taking a hit out on him?”

Mina laughed bitterly. “My dear Eli, as much as I would love to take that particular course of action, I'm afraid the best we can do is get his ass Court Martialled.”

“And for what, with nothing but a couple of letters?”

*.*.*

Colonel Wickham laughed at the panel of Navy and Marine judges he stood before. “Suspicion of treason? Me? Colonel George Wickham, of the Virginia Wickhams since 1750? I've been serving this country for thirty-five goddamned years and I'm being court-martialled under suspicion of treason?”

“Yes, Colonel,” stated Judge George Darcy, who had come out of retirement to preside over this particular case. “Now, if you don't mind, Captain Mapother and Lieutenant Moore would like to proceed.”

The Court-martial proceeded as a court-martial does, with statements being made and witnesses brought forth for either side. Character witnesses were brought forth to determine the colonel's actions in and out of the military. George Darcy would never admit that he had never realized that his former good friend had been so seedy, so untrustworthy. Members of his desert Marine force came up for either side, though the absence of Richard's best friend, Lieutenant Donny Saunderson, was duly noted. It was especially difficult to understand since it was Lieutenant Saunderson who had allegedly been ordered to dispatch Captain Bennet and it was later his gun that Captain Bennet had taken to shoot himself.

Excerpts from Richard's letters, of which Mina had made countless copies, were used to present circumstances. The accused's lawyer argued that Richard could have made any of that up at any given moment. Captain Mapother countered with the argument that he had nothing to gain in making up such a story. This type of bickering continued until Judge Darcy charged them both with silence or facing their own court-martial.

Eli, Jean, Mina, and Dr. Bennet made sure to be at every meeting of the court they were able. Mina was there the most as she was the closest to the Virginia Military Institute, where the court martial was being held. Jean was often with her, having taken leave from Gardiner for a while, but Eli and Dr. Bennet were often unable to take much time from their teaching schedules.

One day, after a long bickering session, Eli returned home exhausted, but needing to grade exams to return next week.

An hour later, he'd made it through one whole exam when the phone rang.

He was very surprised to hear the voice of none other than Lieutenant Colonel Meghan Fitzwilliam on the line.

“Meghan! How've you been?”

“Oh, pretty good. Done some traveling, seen some interesting things, but hurt my leg in a fall.”

Eli winced. “I hope it isn't serious.”

“No, it'll be as good as new in no time.” She paused for a second, and then resumed, but in a very different tone of voice. “Look, I know you're tired and all, but I was going over to VMI tomorrow to see George and I was hoping to meet the Plantagenet brothers and family. Could you bring them?”

“I can try but the fam won't be too happy. They've been trying to stay as far away from that trial as they possibly can.”

“Oh, I'm sure when you get here none of y'all will be sorry.”

“I'll call Mom and Dad and they can bring Geoff and Henry. Maybe I could come and visit beforehand?”

“NO!” She yelled, a bit too loudly and a bit too quickly. Eli couldn't help but wonder what she was up to. “I mean, no, you should stay with your family. Y'all should be together for this.” She paused for a moment more. “Look, I gotta go. Someone's pestering me about using the phone. I'll see you tomorrow, after the Court Martial.”

“Bye, Meg.”

“Bye.”

Eli was confused. But he wouldn't argue. This was Meghan. And another excuse to go to the Court Martial.

God, please give me a miracle.

*.*.*

Felicity was guilty. She never felt guilty. But now, here, she knew something had to be done. She'd been behind the Bennet family since the beginning, even if she didn't inform them of her support for fear of being shunned—like she already was being by the person in that family most important to her.

After having watched the four surviving Bennet brothers over the past months, he could tell that Jean wasn't the same person he'd been the year before. She could have saved herself the guilt and passed it off as his own grief for the loss of his twin brother, someone he'd been physically and mentally connected to since birth. But she was sure from what she'd heard from Eli that he hadn't changed for the better in the past ten or eleven months. He'd been miserable, that's what he'd said. And the only reason she could think of for that was Charlie. He was miserable, as well. He'd been damn near inaccessible since the summer. She couldn't think of the last time she'd talked to him—he didn't answer his house phone or his cell phone and that Caralene woman screened all his calls. Not that it really mattered; he wouldn't have spoken to anyone. She'd stupidly suggested his not being with Jean to “save his career” when it was that same thing that was destroying it. And she had to do something about it, didn't she?

But what? What was she going to do?

*.*.*

A crisp November evening and the next would be the start of another month. November 31st. No big deal, really. Not a grand commercial holiday. Nothing important, really—to all but the two people presently staring deeply into each other's eyes. The tall one, without enough hair to sway in the breeze, looked down sadly at the adoring face a few inches below. The pair continued to stare, completely oblivious of the weather, which had cooled with the night, or their surroundings, or the people walking along the narrow walk linking the Tidal Basin. All they saw were each other, and couldn't help being drawn one to the other.

Ever so slowly, his arms moved in towards her waist, grasping her, surrounding her, pulling her closer.

“Don't forget me,” he murmured into her hair.

For the first time, she spoke, jokingly. “As if I could, Captain Bennet. You have quite captured my heart.” She smiled at him, only to be lost in his eyes again.

“You've only known me for six days,” he said, surprised.

She laughed. “That's all it takes for some, you wonderful man. Even the HM Says—“

She was stopped by a sudden obstruction to her breathing. After a moment of shock, she let out a long exhalation as Richard's lips continued to massage her own. There was so much promise in his kiss, a foretelling of thousands of days in the future. She prayed that it would come true

They remained that way until Richard, realizing what he'd done and where they were, suddenly broke apart. This pause did not last long, however, as moments later Mina pulled his face back down to hers.

It was a while later that the pair, breathless, finally broke away for good, each turning to lean against the rail keeping them from falling into the water.

“Can I assume,” Mina began, breathing heavily, “that you feel the same for me?”

*.*.*

She woke with a start. Memories had been coming in the day time as well as the night time for Mina, in dreams, when she saw someone who looked like Richard, or when she saw a Marine, or when she saw a man. It was hard. So very hard.

And now, sitting in her bedroom in the ground floor apartment she had in the middle of Kent, Mina Collins was harboring drastic thoughts. An idea stronger than she'd ever felt before was gripping her, urging her.

If you end it all, right here, right now, you won't feel the pain any longer.

If I kill myself now, I'll be dead. I don't want to die.

If you die now, at least you'll be together again. Isn't that what you want? To be together for always?

Not like this. Richard wouldn't want me to end it this way. I can't. I won't.

Think of it. You'd be with Richard for eternity.

What if there is no eternity? What if there is no afterlife when we die?

It would be better than trying to survive without him, with nothing but dreams to keep you company.

Silence.

No more pain. No more tears. No more heartache. All of it would go away for good.

Silence.

Think of it.

Walking towards her kitchen, she would not have felt the change in the air as the French doors in her bedroom were quietly opened and closed. As she scrambled through drawers she would not have heard the light footsteps that were made through her bedroom and down the hallway behind her. Being completely entranced in her own despair she could not sense the presence of someone behind her. Only as she moved to position her largest butcher knife over her heart did she learn of his presence, when an achingly familiar voice cried out.

“Willie, don't!”

Chapter Eighteen

Felicity sat in a sterile white plastic chair at a sterile white Formica table in a small sterile white room, with barely a picture on a wall to make it look real. It had been nearly a year since she'd last come here, when she had only recently returned from England. How could she have waited so long to come before then? What had she been thinking? She hadn't and that was the problem. She'd been much too focused on herself and her own problems to even worry about someone else's. But the loss she'd seen over the past months made her realize just how precious life was and what to do about it when there was the chance.

So here she sat, awaiting the arrival on the other side of the sterile little room for her sister.

She heard the door buzzer and looked up. She tried to maintain a mask of indifference, to hide the raw emotion she so dearly wanted to unpin. After ten seconds of silence, however, that blank face fell into tearful sobbing as Felicity faced a shadow of the girl she once knew. She was pale, and thin—horribly skinny—and clumps of black curls hung over her eyes, so that she was barely peeking through. There was a vague expression on her face, as though she didn't know where she was.

Looking up into her sister's face at last, Felicity could see that, though her face was vague, her eyes were questioning. She couldn't bear to look into them for too long.

Looking down, she began sobbing again. “Anna, oh Anna, what have I done to you?”

There was no sound in the room but her sobs.

“To think.” She continued, “I could have saved you all this pain, you could have grown into the wonderful girl I know you would have been, if not for my stupidity, my silliness. How could I have been so stupid?”

Anna stared at her sobbing sister. She hadn't seen her cry in years. Truthfully, except that one time she came to visit when she'd come back from abroad, she hadn't actually seen her in years. She had thought she'd lost her sister. Why hadn't she come before now?

As though able to hear her thoughts, Felicity continued. “I couldn't bear to see what I'd done. I'm sorry I never came to see to, to talk to you, to be a part of your life. I couldn't bear it. It's all my fault that you had to come to this horrible place. This bland, dead, friendless place.”

Felicity was still looking down when she saw a pale hand reach toward her own. She stared in disbelief as that hand tentatively touched her own, and then grabbed it, immediately stopping her tears. She slowly raised her head, until she was facing her sister completely. Anna's intense blue eyes held her own, and, not breaking contact of eye or hand, she slowly shook her head back and forth. No, she was telling her sister. It was not your fault.

“Oh, Anna!” She wailed, falling into a sea of tears and grabbing that small hand as tight as possible to her chest. After a few minutes she eased on her grip and the hand began to pull itself away. Afraid that she would retreat completely, Felicity grabbed for the hand again, only to find herself staring at her sister's palm in a “stop” motion. Going still, she watched in amazement as the hand moved itself towards her cheek and rest itself there. Felicity was staring at the arm connected, since she couldn't stare at the hand itself. She jumped when she felt the other hand on her other cheek pulling her face upwards, so that she could look, once again, into Anna's eyes. Those eyes suddenly seemed much wiser than her nineteen years. And certainly wiser than Felicity's 28.

“That's it. I'm going to Daddy and I'm getting you out of this place. We'll get you home care, or you can move to DC with me. Something. I can't bear to think of you and these lifeless walls. Couldn't they at least have painted them blue or something?”

Her last question actually caused a small sound that could have been a laugh to come from the direction of her sister. Had she gotten some kind of vocal response at last?

Anna couldn't help reacting to her sister. If she could bring herself to joke right after feeling so low, it meant she was coming back to her own self, the sister she remembered and had looked up to when she was little. The sides of her mouth rose a fraction of an inch for a fraction of a second, but it was enough that Felicity saw it, and smiled. Not a small, grim smile as she'd seen the last time she'd been here, but a bright, shimmering smile. Anna could not tell her sister how that smile meant the world to her.

“God, Anna, I've had a hell of a year. And I'm in a hell of a mess. What do I do?”

She looked down and back up, into welcoming eyes that said, tell me.

Felicity told her sister about the things that had occurred since last November, leaving out nothing. She didn't expect an answer to her problems from her sister, but she needed someone to talk to, someone to confide in completely. Those blue eyes stared at her for the hour it took to tell the tale, and seemed to give her suggestions and support throughout. No words at all, but by the time Felicity left, she knew exactly what it was she needed to do.

*.*.*

“Willie, don't!”

Richard couldn't believe what he was seeing. Willie, his wonderful Wilhelmina, had gone insane. She was standing there, in the kitchen, but a few yards from him, in her nightclothes, holding a large knife to her beautiful chest. What was he to do?

Even during moments of insanity she was beautiful. Her waist-length strawberry blonde curls bounced around as she shakingly moved her head in every direction. Why was she doing that? Her legs, glistening like moonlight in the dark, were bare but for a pair of silk sleeping shorts. They seemed to be slightly shaky. A loose tank top hung well on her, where he could see it. But why was she holding a knife in front of her? Why would she ever do something so drastic? What should he do? There was only one thing to do.

*.*.*

The words echoed around her, stopping her hand immediately. She looked up, around, everywhere but the direction from which the voice had come. Nothing could possibly be there. It was simply her imagination, some kind of message from heaven.

All of these reassurances were shattered when she felt a large, warm, familiar hand grab her own. Loosening her grip immediately, her legs began shaking uncontrollably. Certainly such an apparition couldn't touch me, his touch of my hand feeling so intimate? What could this be? Was her Richard alive? Breathing? His heart beating? Alive?

Unable to stand any longer, she allowed her legs to buckle, only to be caught around the waist by the other arm. As the right hand placed the knife on the island, the left arm slowly turned her around, until she was staring into his eyes. Those eyes, not quite chocolate, like his brother's, but more caramel, once so full of life, were now cold and still, staring at her. She examined his face, which had become gaunt compared to his former healthy, dimpled cheeks. A hint of stubble lined his jaw, while lines that had not existed before marked his forehead. His lips were as full as ever, if they lacked the usual smile that was always lying under the surface. What surprised her the most was the mass of curls falling to his shoulders that looked crimson in the moonlight, though she knew they would be an auburn that was almost red when the sun came out. She couldn't help reaching up and running her fingers through that hair, until her eyes came back to rest on his own. They stared at each other for an unknown length of time, perhaps seconds, perhaps hours, before she could take no more and fell against him, sobbing.

“Oh, my Richard, my love, can you possibly be real? Or have I created you in a cowardly attempt at stopping my hand?”

He said not a word. He hadn't spoken since he'd cried out in desperation at seeing her about to damage herself. But now he couldn't speak. Now he could only look into her eyes in despair at the pain he'd caused her and the burden he'd placed on her shoulders. He was about to beg for her forgiveness for putting her through such an ordeal when she suddenly grabbed his head and kissed him with all her might, and all her love. And he could not but return the sentiment.

The time to talk could come later.

*.*.*

“Charlie, I know you're there, you've got to pick up! It's important! Why won't you answer your phone? You're not the only one that needs comforting here! I can't believe you'd be such a coward as to hide when the love of your life has just lost his twin brother! Don't you care? He's been pretending for months like he doesn't, but there's an emptiness that has been there since well before August! I just wasn't willing to accept it! But, Charlie, Sweetie, you haveta. You've gotta come back. Hell, I don't even know where you are. But there are people here on the hill that need you, need you desperately. And I'm not the only one. I—“

“I see you've got your accent back.”

She paused for less than a second. “I've been spending a lot of time in Virginia. I thought you should—Hey! Who the hell do you think you are, scaring me like that? I haven't heard nary a word from you in months, and the first thing you think to say to me is comment on my drawl? You shallow little—“

She stopped to laughter coming from the other end of the line.

“Well somebody's happy,” she muttered loud enough for him to hear.

“No, Fee, not happy, just amused. Let a man be amused once or twice in his life, eh?”

“Well, I'm not amused.” She would have crossed her arms across her chest and huffed, if she hadn't been on the phone.

“That's just because you don't seem to see what's funny. You haven't called me in months, not even to check up on me, and you're the one finally calling, indignant because I'm not there?”

Felicity was nonplussed for a moment. “What do you mean I haven't called you in months? Of course I've called you, you dimwitted idiot! Nearly every week! When I don't get your cell, I call your house. When I can't get you there, I call your office. Caralene always says you're out and she'll give you my message. Matter of fact, she told me that yesterday. So why have you never called me back?”

“You've been calling me?”

There was silence on both ends, until Charlie spoke up again.

“What the hell have I missed, Felicity?”

*.*.*

Breaking off, Richard let out a sob and pulled her even further into his arms, a tight embrace, yet still comforting.

“I've missed you so much,” he murmured, tears flowing down his face. “And I'm sorry I put you through so much grief and pain, I never thought—“

He was stopped by three fingers coming across his lips. “Shh,” she murmured, just as quietly, as though the wind had ears. “I thought I'd lost you.” Nothing she could think of to say illustrated how much she loved this man, even though their time together before now had been but briefly. Slowly, she ran her hand up his back and once more through his hair, which she could not believe to be so red. Or so curly. No, she decided. Curly doesn't define this. But neither does wavy. She couldn't understand her train of thought. Why was she thinking of such trivial matters at a time like this?

Because you haven't come to grips with the fact that he's actually here.

Once the notice was made consciously, Mina immediately went to action. Pulling away and moving towards the living room, grabbing a blanket on the way to the couch, she turned and sat down, patting the seat beside her.

“You must be exhausted.”

*.*.*

Felicity couldn't believe the conversation she'd just had.

Charlie hadn't gotten any of her messages. Not a one. The ones on his cell phone? Mysteriously disappeared. The ones at his house? Never existed. The ones left with his secretary? Suddenly forgotten. Hopefully now he would get a grip and fire the stupid, vindictive girl. Why had she been hired in the first place?

At least now Charlie knew the long and the short of it. Now whatever he did was up to him.

Her thoughts now went their usual way of turning towards Eli. Something that made her happy. Well, he wasn't happy so she was not either, but no matter what his pain or his grief, her love for him still would not falter. Even if he continued to avoid her, she would love him from afar till the day she died.

The phone rang, interrupting her daydreams of brown haired, violet eyed children.

“Hello?”

“Felicity! How is my little cousin this fine evening?”

“Just wonderful, Andrew. Aren't I always?”

Andrew laughed. “Of course, love. Of course. But it's getting late so I'll get right to the point. Are you busy tomorrow, say around two?”

“Lucky for you, my friend, I have a planning period all afternoon and can leave at lunch.”

“And of course, Little Cousin, you have the biggest lead foot of all of us in the family.”

“Certainly! But what does having a lead foot have to do with it?”

“Well, if you're leaving at lunch you'll have to drive about 120 because you need to be at VMI at 2 o'clock sharp.”

“Hell, Andrew, I can't take the entire day off!”

“Please, Lissy? For me? You know I wouldn't ask this of you if it weren't incredibly important.”

“I guess I can do it for you. As long as you never call me that again. You haven't called me that since grade school and if you're going in for the big guns it must be important. We were going to watch a movie in class anyway.”

“Oh, really, what movie?”

“We're on the Plantagenets, Andrew, what movie do you think?”

There was a burst of laughter on the other end. “Oh, what a choice, Fee. Oh what a choice. I'll see you tomorrow.”

There was a click at the other end of the line and Felicity was once again alone with her thoughts. This time they were dark haired with deep chocolate eyes.

*.*.*

“Well?”

Andrew put his cell phone in his pocket and moved towards Meghan.

“She'll be there. So far, things are working out well. That girl's got Plantagenets on the brain. Even if it's not settled tomorrow, at least they won't be avoiding each other anymore.”

“How do you know they've been avoiding each other?”

“My dear, I've got spies everywhere.”

“Well, then. I guess, Lovie, that we'll just have to wait and see how things turn out. Of course, you'll be the one that's got to see…and you can't tell anyone. Got that? Nobody. Not even Felicity. Especially not Felicity. Got me?”

“I gotcha sweetie.” He leaned over to kiss her forehead and then her lips. Yes, my dear, I am thankful every day that I got you before it was too late.

*.*.*

The most recent meeting of the court martial of Colonel George Wickham was about to commence. Andrew sat in a distant corner, letting no one whose face he knew know of his presence. He was there to observe, and observe only.

The first one to enter was Mina Collins. The smile on her face as she plopped in her usual seat told him she was more than certain what was going on today.

Next came who he knew were Dr. and Mrs. Bennet, and their two youngest sons. They cautiously entered, and the boys followed their parents into the back row. Dr. Bennet looked around the slowly filling room, rested his eyes on the back of Mina's swinging head for a moment, and returned his gaze to his family.

Jean came in next. He moved in on the bench with his family and sat between his younger brothers. His face was tired, but he would stay awake for this. If Eli had asked him to come, it must be important.

Eli came last, with Felicity in tow. She had called him this morning to ask for a ride down into Virginia, as her car had decided not to start. They took up the last pair of seats on the last row with Eli's family. Eli, glancing around the room, kept an eye out for Meghan, who he supposed should be there. But she wasn't. It was starting soon. Why wasn't she there?

Everyone rose for Judge Darcy to come out with the rest of his panel, and as they were seated, The State informed the panel of judges that he wanted to bring forward their final witness, who wished to remain anonymous until absolutely necessary.

There was murmuring as a tall man with long red hair pulled back into a ponytail strode in, not in uniform but in a well tailored black suit, complete with black shirt and tie. He'd been wearing sunglasses to protect his eyes from the light shining into the courtroom, but removed them as he took his place in the seat meant for those brought forth for questioning.

“Sir,” stated Captain Mapother. “If you would state your name to the court.”

“Captain Richard Arthur Bennet.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Captain Richard Arthur Bennet.”

There was uproar in the courtroom as someone suddenly began screaming about ghosts and men rising from the dead. George Wickham, however, retained his usual smirk.

Felicity, on the other hand, was vaguely surprised. When her aunt Meghan had told her of Wickham getting what he had coming, and that she had a surprise, Felicity never dreamed it could be anything like this. Her surprise was only short lived, however. In its place stood happiness; happiness in draughts for the six people sitting alongside her on the last bench of the courtroom. They each had different reactions.

Mrs. Bennet had initiated the screaming and Dr. Bennet—Bert, as she'd come to call him—was attempting to calm her. The good doctor had tears in his own eyes, and the confused look he directed to the front of the room tore at her heart. Elischa, on the other side of his mother, was also trying to calm her as their eyes met. He sent a questioning look her way, and, shaking her head, she motioned towards the front of the room, trying to tell him that all would become clear in time. And that she had no idea what was going on either.

Jean Bennet was sitting between his younger brothers, eyes facing forward, continuously murmuring “I knew he was alive,” as Henry and Geoff each had an arm around their older brother; she was not sure if it was to keep him up or themselves.

Looking around the room, she saw that Mina Collins, on the other hand, showed no expression but pride. She wasn't sure what the woman was about, but they would have a discussion later. She turned to look at the man himself.

Richard looked a bit saddened at the reaction of his family, but as her father called for order and silence reigned, he returned to the mask of impassiveness he'd had on when he walked in.

“Mr. Bennet, are you still an officer in the United States Marine Corps?”

There was a pause as a pained expression came across the man's face. Just when Judge Darcy was about to repeat the question, Richard answered. “I don't know.”

“Why don't you know?”

“Generally with injuries like mine one is decorated and sent on their way with an honorable discharge. But due to the peculiarity of my situation this has yet to happen.”

Captain Mapother stood and walked around his table, leaning against it. He shot a look at the smirking colonel.

“And how did you receive these injuries?”

“While on active duty I was captured.”

“By whom?”

Richard took a breath, as if he'd answered these questions before. “Guerilla mercenaries. At first.”

“And how did you escape? I assume you escaped?”

“With a razor.”

“Pardon?”

“I escaped with a razor, captain. An old fashioned shaving razor.”

There was silence. The young captain muttered, “I see.” After a while, having appeared to contemplate all of his options, he continued with his questioning. “And how did you manage to come across that?”

Richard sighed again. He was tired of reliving the horrible events of the past year, but he knew this was the only way to nail Wickham. “Before they resorted to torture, they'd allowed me to groom. Shave, clean, etcetera. I imagine I wasn't allowed a beard due to my lack of faith.”

“Ah. And would you mind my asking how you were captured by these guerillas in the first place?”

After another deep breath, Richard began his story.

“After learning that I had witnessed him dealing with the enemy, in both funds and knowledge, my commanding officer placed an order that I be killed. A friend of mine was one of the men he'd given the order to, and against my will sent me AWOL. I admit it was a moment of fear that resulted in four months of capture and torture before my escape. But I—“

“Four months, you say? You went missing in April. What of the rest of the time?”

“I wasn't finished, Captain.”

“Please, continue.”

“I hadn't gotten very far from the guerilla camp when I was discovered by Wickham's detachment again. He kept me hidden in his moving camp for a while, until he decided upon a course of action—which he told me himself. One of those villain telling the hero his great plot things, I imagine. He would have liked to kill me, he told me, but he also wanted to give me a fate worse than death, I guess for ruining his plans. So he planned my “suicide” and proceeded to coerce Lieutenant Donald Saunderson, who resembled me in build, features and age, to shoot himself—the Colonel had his own hand on the gun, holding it to Donny's—Lieutenant Saunderson's—mouth.” His throat clenched a bit, but he cleared it, knowing he needed to continue the story. “After the shooting Wickham passed Donny off for me with a pair of dog tags, as the entire oral cavity had been destroyed. He kept me there for another three and a half months until I was able to escape with the assistance of another friend, who had been sent to investigate my death by an unknown party.”

“And what is this friend's name?”

“Lieutenant Colonel Meghan Fitzwilliam of the United States Air Force.”

“And is the colonel present this afternoon?”

“No.”

“And why is that?”

“She suffered an injury to the leg during my escape and is presently in the infirmary here at VMI.”

“I see.”

“I'm not sure that you do, Captain.”

“Pardon?”

“You continue to say `I see' yet you can't possibly see what I do.”

“And what is that, Mr. Bennet?”

Turning to Wickham and staring directly into his eyes, he continued. “A disgusting imitation of a United States Marine who's willing to give up his country and over a thousand of his fellow Marines for something besides his life.”

Colonel Wickham jumped up. “Oh, but you couldn't give up your life, could you? You think you're so much better than me? I've served this country since before—“

“Can it, Wickham.”

“Oh, and what are you going to do, George? You know you can just hush this up like you did ten years ago when that slut of yours—“

“I WILL HAVE SILENCE IN THIS COURTROOM IMMEDIATELY!” Exclaimed Judge Darcy, suddenly having those days flash before his eyes. His dear Fee had been trying to tell him something that he'd se aside, something he didn't want to hear.

His eyes were drawn to his daughter in the back row, who he'd only just realized was in the room. She was grabbing the shoulders of a young man, appearing to hold him back—he looked ready to spring off his seat. For the first time since she was seventeen she looked…peaceful. She wasn't completely at peace, but she was almost…serene. The two of them would have a very long, very overdue talk once this was done.

But for now, the situation at hand: Wickham and his obvious guilt.

With a bang of the gavel the meeting was adjourned for Judge Darcy to make a decision with the remainder of the panel. Less than an hour later they returned to their seats to declare Wickham guilty. Surprised that there was no change in the Colonel besides the loss of his smirk, Judge Darcy gave the final word.

“I hope, Colonel Wickham, that with the assistance of a dishonorable discharge and an appearance in the federal court, you will come to better understand the brevity of your crime. That is all. This session is adjourned.” And with another bang of the gavel he was gone.

*.*.*

Felicity leaned back, still in shock. She'd given Meghan carte blanche for whatever she dredged up about Wickham and—more importantly—Richard, but this she'd never dreamed or expected. She'd expected espionage, not a rescue mission! She was amazed Meghan had made it out with her life!

But now, it was time to back out of the picture for a while. It was time for a reunion; ideas of romance could come later.

With one last adoring glance at Eli, she turned to leave the room, at least for a while. She had, after all, ridden here with Eli. Remembering Richard's testimony, she set off towards the infirmary to visit Meghan.

*.*.*

George Darcy watched his daughter from the entrance to the Judges' chambers in the back of the room. His heart broke as he watched her sadly leave the room, particularly after seeing the love in her eyes for the young man who had earlier—so it seemed—tried to defend her honor. Something he hadn't been able to do. He remembered seeing that love in his own wife once, and couldn't bear to think that something—anything—was keeping these two from acting on that love. Determined to have a conversation with his daughter, he set off to catch up to her.

Somehow he knew that she would head in the direction of the infirmary. Young Bennet's testimony was the first he'd heard of Meghan's condition. He hoped her injury wasn't too bad.

*.*.*

“Fee.”

Felicity stopped at the entrance to the courthouse, daring herself to believe the voice she heard was addressing her.

“Fee, please. Just talk to me.”

She had never heard such pleading in his voice. Never. Command, love, yes. But pleading? She turned around, waiting for him to speak.

“Honey, I know I'm the last person you want to talk to right now, but I just want to take the time while we're both in the same place. It doesn't happen often, you know.”

Her failed attempt at hiding a smile led him to continue.

“I just, I didn't know where to look for guidance after your mother died. George was a friendly person—and I needed a friend. He seemed to have all the answers, too—of course, we'll never know where he got those answers. I know an apology won't cut it for the pain I put you through, but I would give anything—anything—to see you smile again.”

There was a long period of silence, and after a period of obvious consideration, she spoke. But her words were not what he expected.

“Let Anna come home with me. Have her discharged.”

A retort began to form, but before it came out he found himself nodding.

With that one small, simple gesture, he wasf nearly knocked over as Felicity flung herself into his arms, sobbing.

“Oh, thank you, Daddy! She just seems so miserable in that horrible place. She needs family with her, people who love her. I love you, Daddy!”

Teary-eyed, George Darcy held his daughter tight. She seemed seventeen again, and yet not. She was older, wiser, much wiser than he'd been. Here was his daughter, the girl she'd been, who he hadn't seen the few times they'd been face to face since she'd gone to college. His darling girl was back.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

---