These are small pieces of fanfiction (ficlets) that
do not
conform to the drabble word limit but are
less
than one thousand words long.
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Someone to watch over me
April 2006
"Good evening, William."
"Evening." He yawned as he collapsed onto the sofa.
"You seem a little tense. Will this help?" The second movement of Mozart's 'Clarinet Concerto in A' began playing through the speakers as he kicked off his shoes and swung his long legs up onto the cushions, leaning his head back on his hands.
"Is there anything you want to talk about?"
He was silent for a full minute. "No. Not unless you can make someone fall in love with me."
"Elizabeth Bennet." It wasn't a question.
"Yes," he sighed. "She must hate me."
"But you've just gone out of your way to save her sister's reputation. How can she hate you after that?"
"Because it's my fault that Lydia's reputation was in jeopardy in the first place."
"You take too much upon yourself, William."
"Maybe ... maybe not, but you didn't see the agony on her face. She won't want anything to do with me now."
"If you avoid her you will never know." There was a short pause. "Charles Bingley intends to call on Jane Bennet next week. You should go with him."
William jumped up and wandered across to the window. He gazed out at the stars sparkling in the endless sky. "Do you think she would talk to me?"
"If you never go, you won’t know."
He smiled wistfully, remembering those fine eyes and her bewitching smile. "Yes, you're right. I will go." He looked at his watch; it was later than he thought. "I should turn in now; thanks for listening."
"Goodnight, William. Sleep well."
William Darcy walked through into his bedroom and prepared himself for sleep. Clad in only his boxers, he slipped under the thin sheet and sank into his pillow. He stared for a moment through the unadorned window, where he could see the swirling dust clouds of Jupiter as it sunk below the horizon. With one last grin, he turned his back on the view and closed his eyes.
In the living room, she sighed with the satisfaction of a job well done. Powering down the lights and switching off the music, she put herself into 'monitoring' mode, ready for the next day.
The super-computer "Gaea" looked after all the occupants of the sprawling Ganymede Colony, she was responsible for their health and wellbeing, and took her obligations very seriously.
After all, a happy colonist was a contented colonist.
~~<>@<>~~
Netherfield Hospital Charity Dance - 1916
"Miss Bennet. I wondered if I could trouble you for the next dance."
She looked down at his legs, and noticed that he was still using his walking stick, which he appeared to be leaning on quite heavily. "Major Darcy. I didn't know that you danced."
"I am not in the habit of dancing," he admitted, "but the doctors tell me that I should stretch my leg a little."
"I had planned on sitting this next one out." She watched as his shoulders slumped, and Elizabeth could see that he was disappointed with her refusal. "We could take a walk in the garden if you need the exercise?"
The delighted smile that answered her question surprised her; it lit up his face and displayed the loveliest pair of dimples she had ever seen.
Linking his arm through hers — his walking stick securely in the other hand — he steered her out of the doors and onto the terrace. They walked along the pathways in silence, until Elizabeth could not stand the quiet any longer.
"The dance is very well attended, don't you think?"
"Yes, it is."
After a pause of some minutes, she spoke again. "I think you should say something now, Major. I talked about the dance, and you ought to comment on the generosity of the neighbourhood for their contributions, or something like that."
He smiled, and assured her that he would be happy to discuss whatever topic interested her.
"Very well; that reply will do for the present. Perhaps later I may observe that there seemed to be an increase in casualties reaching the hospital last week.''
"Do you talk by rule then, when you are walking?''
"Sometimes. We must speak a little, you know. It would be strange to be entirely silent during our walk together, and we should plan the conversation to suit.''
"Are you consulting your own feelings, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?''
"Both,'' replied Elizabeth archly, "For I think we are very similar creatures. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition; unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room.''
"That doesn't seem an accurate description of your own character, I am sure,'' he said. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.''
She made no answer, and they were again silent until they had reached the end of the path, when he asked her if she and her sisters often walked to Meryton. "Yes. Actually, when you drove past us the other day, we had just been making a new friend.''
The effect was immediate. A dark anger spread over his features, but he remained silent. At length the Major spoke, and in a constrained manner said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends. Whether he may be equally capable of retaining them is less certain.''
"He has been unlucky to lose your friendship,'' replied Elizabeth, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.''
Darcy made no answer, and seemed about to change the subject, when his walking stick went down a hole and he stumbled. Instinctively grabbing her arm to stop himself from falling, she was shocked by the expression of pain that crossed his face. She held him steady until he righted himself, but he did not release his hold on her; if anything his grip tightened. The intense gaze from his dark eyes held her spellbound. She could feel him breathing erratically, but whether it was as a result of the fall or for another reason, she had no way of knowing. He tipped his head to one side, watching her cautiously, and slowly moved closer, his eyes never wavering. She saw the beginnings of a smile as he lowered his face towards her.
Holding her breath, Elizabeth closed her eyes and waited...
~~<>@<>~~
The Doctor will see you now
May 2006 (written during one of HG's downtimes)
Lizzy squirmed on the chair, anxiously waiting for the doctor's pronouncement.
"Well, Miss Bennet," he said, tapping the clipboard with his pen. "I understand your concern. You were right to come to see me. I have had a number of ladies, and even one gentleman, in my office during the last few days with very similar symptoms."
"Is it infectious, Dr. Fitzwilliam?" she asked, a worried frown on her face.
"No, not to those who have not already been exposed. It is the sudden withdrawal, combined with the uncertainty — wondering how long the situation will continue for — which causes these strange effects."
"So I am not the only person suffering?"
"Certainly not. I have tried numerous treatments, but although they give temporary relief from the condition, none of them seem to take the ache away for very long."
"Please, doctor. I would be grateful for any help. I just need to get through this week. I can't function; I feel lonely and depressed. I've tried everything I can think of, but nothing helps."
"I can prescribe a course of D.W.G.?"
"No. I've tried that already."
"What about A.I.?"
"It worked for a while, but even re-reading Slurry didn't help."
"That is bad news. Well, perhaps something stronger. What about Firthness? I have had some good results with that treatment."
"Thank you, doctor, but I don't think it will do any good. I suppose I will just have to wait for them to get the gardens back on their feet again." She fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief, as a large tear ran slowly down her cheek. "I hope it doesn't take too long."
"I did have some physical aids delivered earlier this week, but I'm afraid they've been very popular. I'm completely out of stock of the Darcy and Bingley blow-up dolls, and I'm afraid I only have the Collins model left."
"Eww. No, I don't think I am that ill, yet."
"No, you're not the first person to tell me that. In the other cases of D.T. I've come across-"
"D.T.?" she interrupted. "What's that?"
"Darcy Tremblings. It's the medical term, which explains what you are suffering from, Miss Bennet. Prolonged loss of high quality, Jane Austen based fan fiction, and the welcoming and friendly environment that only this Hyacinth Gardens can supply. The condition was first discovered by our resident expert, Dr. Bonnie."
"Do you have any self-help tapes?"
"Only one, but tests so far on a limited number of subjects have not been encouraging. Apparently, the sound of Lady Catherine extolling you to stop moping around and cheer up doesn't seem to help the problem. Here ... listen." He pressed the 'play' button on a tape recorder, and Lizzy jumped as she heard a stern voice floating, disembodied, around the room.
My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that not only was the Hyacinth Gardens board down for some very essential maintenance, but also that you would, in all likelihood, become a nervous wreck if that den of iniquity was not resurrected within a reasonable space of time. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure you so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to you.
Lizzy put her hands over her ears to blank out the noise, until she saw that the doctor had stopped the tape.
"I did warn you," he admonished, with a grin.
"What else can you suggest, Dr. Fitzwilliam. Please ... I am desperate. I will try anything!"
"Anything?" He asked, with a twinkle in his eye. He raised himself out of his leather chair, and came around the desk to stand in front of her. Lizzy looked at him closely for the first time. He was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman. As he moved closer, he started to unbutton his white lab coat.
"Dr. Fitzwilliam, I..." she started to protest, and considered threatening sexual harassment charges, until she saw that under his coat he was wearing the red jacket and breeches of an Army Colonel in the Regency era. Throwing his outer garment to the floor, he reached behind the door for his hat as he held out his arm to her.
"Miss Bennet. I have been making a tour of the park, as I generally do every year. Can I escort you back to the parsonage?"
"Colonel Fitzwilliam!" she said, a wide smile gracing her features. "I don't mind if I do."
~~<>@<>~~
Desperate Times
May 2006 (written during one of HG's downtimes)
"It started on Sunday. I don't know what I did wrong."
Will shook his head. "I've never seen Jane so ... frustrated. Have you spoken to Lizzy about it?"
"Not yet, but I suppose I should."
The two men stopped talking immediately as the kitchen door opened, and the normally placid Jane stormed across the room and into the hall. They heard the thump, thump of her climbing the stairs. She was obviously in a bad mood.
"Is it, you know ... that time?" Will asked, his ears turning red with embarrassment at bringing up a subject that would normally be taboo.
"No. And before you ask, she's not pregnant either."
"Oh."
The friends settled down to watch the second half of the match, putting Jane's odd behaviour out of their mind until the full-time whistle signalled the end of their game. It was then that they heard a scream of agony from somewhere above them. Both men jumped up and raced up the stairs, only to see Jane's laptop go flying out of the bedroom, and land with a sickening crash on the floor. Charles reached the door first, and paused, poking his head carefully into the room. What he saw left him open mouthed with shock.
Jane was sitting in the middle of an unmade bed, and she was surrounded by words. From the colour, he hoped it was written in lipstick. After reading the walls, Will excused himself to go home. He sincerely hoped that Lizzy was not suffering the same fate as her sister.
Charles sat next to his angel, and put a comforting arm around her. Looking slightly wide-eyed at the devastation surrounding him, he asked if she was okay. She mumbled an answer, but he couldn't hear her clearly.
"What was that, honey?"
"No gardens and no chat makes Jane ..."
"Go crazy?" Charles completed, guessing the end of the sentence from the litany scrawled all over their bedroom.
She looked at him gratefully for a moment, a serene smile blooming over her face.
"Don't mind if I do ...."
~~<>@<>~~
Another woman scorned
October 2006
"Hello, Darling. Oh! I forgot ... you detest that name don't you, William? No, there's no need for you to remind me again. I promise I'll remember." She took a deep breath, unsure where to start.
"Please let me say something, and I need to do this without you interrupting. Can you do that? Good. You know, of course, that I have loved you for so long. I know that you didn't think I was really serious, and that I only wanted your money, but that couldn't be further from the truth."
She paused, walking back and forth in front of him. "Do you know how painful it has been to see you so often with Charles, when you would barely acknowledge my existence? I did everything I could to gain your attention, and your love, but after Charles moved to Netherfield and we met the Bennets ..." she spat out the name as though it was poison and her lip curled into an angry snarl. "Well, I think I knew that I wouldn't be able to compete with those fine eyes."
She laughed. It was cold and harsh. "Those eyes are not quite so fine now, are they? Poor Elizabeth! Those white sticks are just terrible things to accessorise with! You would think they would come in different colours so you could pick one which co-ordinates better with your clothes. Ah well, no matter."
She turned on him then, angry and defiant. "Why did you have to interfere? Everything was going so well! There was no reason for you to get involved. I never wanted to hurt you. Throwing yourself in front of my car like that to push her out of the way! How terribly heroic! Would you have done the same for me? Would you? No, I didn't think so. Well, you don't have to worry any more. Elizabeth is welcome to you now. I've ... I've met someone else, and I'm engaged so you won't be hearing from me again."
She took a bottle of champagne from the bag she had brought with her. "Will you join me for a drink to celebrate? No? Well, I'll just leave it here, by your side. You can perhaps have some later."
She was just about to leave, but she turned back for one last look at the man she had always dreamed she would marry one day. "I don't regret anything, my Darling. Goodbye." She heard a noise and turned to see two figures standing behind her.
"Miss Caroline Bingley? I am D.I. Smith and this is W.P.C. Rogers. I am arresting you for the manslaughter of Fitzwilliam Darcy and the attempted murder of Elizabeth Bennet."
She listened as the detective's voice droned on about her rights. Nodding her head once to confirm that she understood, Caroline took one final look at the carved headstone before she was escorted from the cemetery.
~~<>@<>~~
The Newlyweds
November 2006 (written during another one of HG's downtimes)
He paced up and down the room, unsure what to do for the best. His father had never given him any advice on how to deal with this. With a sigh, he picked up the phone and dialled a number, waiting impatiently for someone to answer. On the fifth ring he heard the voice he'd been hoping for.
"Hello?"
"Eleanor! I'm so glad you're home."
"Henry! How are you?"
"I'm okay, but I'm worried about Cathy. I wondered if you could give me some advice."
His sister laughed. "You've only been married two months, and you need advice already?"
Henry Tilney blushed; grateful that his sister couldn't see him. "She's acting very strange, Elle. Moody ... angry even! What should I do? I don't want to say the wrong thing."
"Oh, Henry! What have you done?"
"Nothing, as far as I know."
"You've not forgotten anything important, like a birthday or anything?"
"What do you take me for? No, I'm sure it's nothing like that. As soon as I came home from work, she snapped at me. I've not been able to say a thing right since. She even threw a book at me! It hurt! Should I back off, or do you think I should ask her what's wrong?" He knew his voice sounded pitiful but he couldn't help it.
"Would you put her on the phone?"
Agreeing to his sister's request, he took the cordless phone into the study, where his relatively new wife was sat in front of the desk, peering dejectedly into the screen of the laptop, her chin propped on her left hand as she manoeuvred the mouse with the right. "Cathy? Eleanor wants to speak to you." He handed the phone over and retreated a safe distance to the door; mindful of the bruise on his arm where the Da Vinci Code had struck with pin-point accuracy.
He loitered, listening as Cathy responded to her sister-in-law's questions.
"Yes. Yes. No. Not since yesterday evening. No, I've tried that. Been there. No. I know! I hope it's not down for long. Yes, I've been reading that one too; it's great isn't it? Is it? Really? Hang on a minute ..."
Henry watched as his darling Catherine typed furiously until a new page lit up her face. She smiled happily before picking up the phone once more.
"Thank you, Elle. You're a lifesaver! What? Oh, okay then. Thanks. Bye!"
Catherine offered the phone to her husband, and once he took it she began clicking on the new page, hardly lifting her eyes from the screen.
Henry quietly left the room, closing the door behind him before he lifted the phone back to his ear. "Eleanor? Are you still there?"
"Yes, Henry. I'm here."
"You're a miracle worker! What did you do? She seems much happier now."
"I just reminded her about the HG Back-up board. She'll be fine now, but you might just want to keep a note of the URL safe for future reference. Oh, and Henry?"
"Yes?"
"You never know when the power might go out. You'll need something in reserve. I'd better print you off a copy of Slurry, just in case..."
~~<>@<>~~
Stretching the truth until it breaks
February 2007
She'd arrived at the clocktower a few minutes early to see if she could spot this gorgeous guy she was meeting.
Lizzy looked down at the email she had printed before she left the office.
Tuesday evening at eight p.m, under the clocktower. I don't think you'll have any trouble recognising me. I have dark hair and brown eyes. I'm just a shade under six feet tall, and I think I'm pretty fit for my age. I'm a bit shy and not really very good with people. You'll recognise me because I'll be wearing a green jumper and carrying a red rose ... just for you. William
Ah ... sweet! she thought. Looking around the square she wondered where he might be. There were a couple of cute guys hanging around, but none that quite matched the ... hang on a minute. She saw a red rose. Her heart gave a jump and then he turned around.
Well, the dark hair was right, she reluctantly admitted. It was dark because it was ... well, greasy. The jumper was certainly green ... in places. It looked like he'd knitted it himself. A shade under six feet? Perhaps a shade over five would have been more accurate. If he thought that beer belly was a sign of being 'fit' then he was deluding himself.
Elizabeth looked down at her own red rose before discreetly throwing it in a nearby bin. Alas, William Collins was not what she was looking for.
Back to the drawing board on Monday!
~~<>@<>~~
Early Morning Rendezvous
Originally written April 2006, revised September 2007
She waited, watching as the first golden whispers of dawn rose over the horizon. A heavy mist covered the ground, swirling around her as she glided through the dew drenched grass. The only sounds were the birds in the trees as they lifted their voices like a choir of chirping angels, heralding the light of the new day.
Stopping to rest by an old bridge, she inhaled deeply. The autumnal scents enticed her heightened senses and relaxed her mind. She surveyed the endless fields and forests, searching desperately for that one missing element from her existence.
There. Coming through the mist she saw him, moving purposefully towards her. There was no sense of doubt in his passage across the field; no regrets or inhibitions. He seemed completely at ease.
Settling back onto the grass she waited patiently for her soul's mate to arrive, for how could she think of him as anything else?
When he came close, she felt the need to explain her presence. Bowing her head formally, she said, "I could not sleep."
He returned her obeisance with a graceful nod; the facets of his eyes twinkling in the early morning light. "Nor I," he replied, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.
After a long moment, where both shuffled uncomfortably, he finally broke the silence. "If your feelings are still what they were last year, then tell me so at once." He shifted his broad shoulders to move closer to her. Flexing the heavily corded muscles in his neck, he swung his head slowly around to stare into her astonished eyes. "My affections and wishes are unchanged. One word from you will silence me forever."
Her eyes sparkled with pleasure as she nestled closer to his warm body; nuzzling his shoulder tenderly with a low croon.
Marvelling at her show of esteem, his heart swelled with hope. "If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you that you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I never wish to be parted from you from this day on."
Hearing his declaration, her scales began to glow with satisfaction and her long, graceful neck curved out as she rubbed softly against his bony jaw, signalling her submission. She would be his, and soon. Arching her ridged back, she sprang upwards, sweeping her wings behind her with powerful strokes to propel herself into the bright blue morning sky.
Fitzoth followed her progress as she circled higher and higher, the rising sun glinting like scattered diamonds across her scales. Their new found understanding would be a crucial advantage when Lizbeth next rose to mate, and he — the largest and strongest of the bronze dragons — was determined to have her; to follow her to the stars, if necessary. He knew she would not make it easy for him, for capitulation was not in her nature, but a long, strenuous mating made for stronger offspring.
Unfurling his wings in a leisurely fashion, he bathed in the strengthening rays of the sun as he marvelled at Lizbeth's dazzling form. Unwilling to lose her again, he launched himself into the air, the strokes of his powerful wings propelling him upwards until he was flying by her side.
Gliding across the thermals, Fitzoth and Lizbeth banked to the west; returning to their weyr and a golden future together.
~~<>@<>~~
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