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The day began with a tour of the estate.
Georgiana led Elliot through the gardens to the stables, where beautiful horses stood. Darcy loved riding, she explained, though he rarely allowed himself such luxury because he was too busy with work. The greenhouse with exotic plants brought by his grandfather and great-grandfather. The family chapel, small but beautiful, where all the Darcys had been married for two hundred years.
"Imagine," Georgiana said dreamily, standing at the altar. "When Fitz marries, the ceremony will be here. I'll be a bridesmaid. Or groomsman. Depending on who he chooses."
She looked at Elliot, and there was something sly in her gaze.
"Who do you think will be his partner?"
Elliot felt himself blushing.
"I... don't know. That's his choice."
"Yes," Georgiana agreed. "But I think he's already chosen. Just hasn't admitted it yet."
She turned and walked toward the exit, humming something cheerful, leaving Elliot standing in stunned silence.
They had lunch in the garden under an old oak. A servant brought a basket with sandwiches, fruit, lemonade. Darcy joined them for half an hour before being called away on business some problem with tenants.
"Forgive me," he apologized. "Duties of a landowner."
"Of course," Elliot smiled. "We understand."
When Darcy left, Georgiana leaned toward Elliot.
"He's happy," she breathed. "I haven't seen him like this in so long. Not since..." she faltered. "Not since I made my mistake."
"What mistake?" Elliot asked carefully.
Georgiana fell silent, her face becoming sad.
"Last summer I made a terrible mistake," she finally admitted. "I... I fell in love. Or thought I did. With a person who turned out not to be who he pretended to be."
Her voice trembled.
"He wanted my inheritance. Manipulated me. Almost convinced me to run away with him. Fitz found out at the last moment. Stopped me. But it broke his heart. He blamed himself for not protecting me better."
Elliot felt a pang of pain for both of them.
"It wasn't his failure. Or yours. It was the failure of that person who lied."
"I know," Georgiana wiped her eyes. "I know that now. But then... I felt so stupid. So naive."
She looked at Elliot.
"Fitz told me the same thing you did. That it wasn't my fault. But I see how he looks at me sometimes, with such fear. He's afraid I'll make another mistake. Afraid to let me go."
"He just loves you," Elliot said gently. "Wants to protect you."
"I know," Georgiana smiled through tears. "That's why I'm glad you're here. He needs someone who will make him stop worrying so much. Who will show him he can trust again."
She squeezed Elliot's hand.
"He trusts you. I can see it. He looks at you the way he's never looked at anyone."
Elliot didn't know what to answer.
After lunch they returned to the house. Georgiana sat at the piano and began playing something new.
"I write music," she explained. "It helps me... express what I can't say in words."
The melody was beautiful. Sad but with notes of hope.
"Is this about what happened?" Elliot asked.
"Yes," Georgiana continued playing. "About how I felt lost but then found my way back. Thanks to Fitz."
Georgiana stopped playing and turned to him. Her face held a serious expression, uncharacteristic of her shy demeanor.
"Elliot," she began. "I want you to know something."
He turned his attention to her warily.
"Fitz... my brother isn't the kind of person who opens up to people easily. He builds walls around himself. Protects himself." She paused. "But with you it's different. I see how he looks at you. How he changes when you're near."
She folded her hands in her lap.
"Whatever troubles you, whatever is in your past or present... Fitz will never betray your trust. He'll protect you. From anything. From anyone."
Georgiana looked into his eyes.
"You can trust him. Completely. He'll never let you down. Never."
Elliot felt a lump in his throat.
"He's never let me down," Georgiana simply explained. "Even when I made terrible mistakes. Even when I disappointed him. He was always there. Always protected me."
She smiled weakly.
"So know, Elliot, with Fitz you're safe. Whatever happens."
Elliot looked at her, at this girl who had been through so much pain herself but was still so kind.
"Thank you," he exhaled. "That... means a lot."
Georgiana smiled and returned to playing.
But the words remained in Elliot's head. Spinning. Whispering.
*Maybe it's time to tell him. Maybe he'll understand.*
***
That evening, after dinner, Georgiana yawned again this time rather theatrically, though Elliot still suspected some pretense.
"Forgive me," she said. "I really am tired. So many impressions today."
"Of course," Darcy rose. "Go, rest."
"Goodnight, Fitz. Goodnight, Elliot," she waved to them and left, but before closing the door, Georgiana turned and winked at Elliot.
They were alone again.
Elliot felt tension building. Georgiana's words echoed in his head.
*Elliot, with Fitz you're safe.*
Darcy stood by the fireplace, gazing into the fire, his profile thoughtful.
"Darcy," Elliot began, and his voice betrayed him with a tremor.
Darcy instantly turned. Alarm was in his eyes.
"Elliot? Did something happen?"
"I..." Elliot clenched his hands into fists, forcing himself not to retreat. "I need to tell you something. But I don't know how. I've never... never told anyone."
Darcy took a step closer, his movements cautious, as though afraid to startle.
"You can tell me anything you want. Or not tell me..."
"No, I..." Elliot shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. "I know I can trust you. That you'll never betray me."
"Never," Darcy confirmed firmly.
Elliot took a deep breath. Then another. The words stuck in his throat, refused to come.
"I... knew from childhood that something was wrong with me. That I was different." He fell silent, fighting the lump in his throat. "My brothers were normal. Ordinary omegas. But I... I saw things. I mean, I felt things they didn't feel."
Darcy remained silent, just listening.
"My parents... they noticed but didn't talk about it. Pretended everything was normal." Elliot swallowed. "I was lonely. I thought something in me was broken."
"Elliot..."
"Wait," he said barely audibly. "If I stop now, I won't be able to continue."
Darcy fell silent, his face full of compassion.
Elliot approached the table where an old quill lay. His fingers hovered over it, trembling.
"When I was thirteen, I learned this is called psychometry. I can..." his voice broke. "I can see the past of things when I touch them."
He lifted the quill with a trembling hand.
The vision hit like a wave.
A man with grey hair and tired eyes. He sits at this desk, quill in hand. Writing in a diary. His hand trembles so badly the ink smears.
*Today the doctors said Anne doesn't have long. I can't... I can't imagine life without her...*
Fear. So strong it catches the breath. Fear of loss. Of losing the love of his life.
Then another scene. A hospital room. A woman in bed, pale and weak. The man holds her hand. Crying.
*Don't leave me. Please.*
Elliot exhaled, dropping the quill back on the table. Tears streamed down his cheeks he hadn't even noticed when they'd started.
"Elliot," Darcy caught his elbow, supporting him. "God, what did you see?"
"Your grandfather," Elliot mumbled, voice broken. "He... he was writing, probably in a diary. About your grandmother. She was dying. He was so frightened. So..." his voice broke completely. "He loved her so much. And was afraid he'd lose her."
Darcy froze. His face paled.
"You saw that? You... you felt that?"
"I always feel it," Elliot exhaled, wiping tears. "Emotions. The strongest ones. They... they wash over me. As though it's happening to me."
Darcy pulled him close, embracing him so tightly it became hard to breathe.
"My god, Elliot. Your whole life. You've carried this your whole life alone."
"I couldn't tell anyone," Elliot pressed his face into his shoulder. "My parents were afraid people would find out. That I'd be taken. Studied. I learned to hide it. Pretend to be normal."
Darcy stroked his back soothingly.
"You shouldn't have had to go through this alone."
"But I did," Elliot pulled back, wiping his eyes. "And learned to live with it. Control it. Most of the time I can block it. Not touch things too long. Not open myself too much."
He looked at Darcy.
"That time, at our first meeting, when our fingers touched..."
"Yes," Elliot confirmed. "I saw a little of your life."
"What exactly?" Darcy's voice was hoarse.
"Fragments," Elliot nodded. "Not everything. Just... emotions. Strong moments."
He fell silent, remembering.
"You were alone. In an office. It was raining. Panoramic windows. You were looking at your phone. On the screen was... a girl. A light-haired omega."
Darcy tensed.
"And you were gripping the phone so hard your knuckles turned white," Elliot continued. "You wanted to say something but couldn't. And felt... guilt. So strong. And pain. Old pain."
He looked at Darcy.
"And a thought. One thought that sounded so loud: 'I must.' Not 'I want.' 'I must.'"
Darcy closed his eyes, his jaw hardening.
"That was... long ago. That girl... she was an omega my parents wanted me to choose. A suitable match. Right family." He opened his eyes. "But I couldn't. Because I didn't love her. And felt guilty for disappointing everyone."
Elliot carefully touched his hand.
"You know, with only one person there was nothing. He was... empty. I saw nothing."
"Who?" Darcy asked sharply, taking Elliot's hand.
"Wickham. I thought it was good."
He smiled bitterly.
"But now I understand. He was blocking me. Deliberately. He knew about my gift. And was hiding."
"How did he find out?" Darcy squeezed his palm.
"I don't know. But he said..." Elliot looked into his eyes. "He said your family knows about me. That's why I'm so interesting to them. OGA."
Darcy cursed quietly but with such fury Elliot flinched.
"My family," he repeated with disgust. "The de Bourgh Foundation. Lady Catherine."
He turned Elliot to face him, hands settling on his shoulders.
"Listen to me very carefully. I didn't know about your gift. I swear. I suspected you were special. Felt it. But didn't know what exactly."
His voice became softer, almost pleading:
"And that's not what made me fall in love with you. Not the gift. Not your abilities. You. Your kindness. Your mind, the way you see the world, the way you make me feel... alive."
Elliot realized tears were welling again.
"I wanted you to know," Elliot said barely audibly. "The whole truth. Because... because you deserve it. If we... if there's something between us, there shouldn't be secrets."
Darcy pulled him closer and embraced him as though wanting to protect him from the whole world.
"Thank you, sunshine," he murmured into Elliot's hair. "Thank you for trusting me. I'll keep your secret. Your trust. I swear on my life, I'll protect you. From everyone. From OGA, from the de Bourghs, from anyone."
Elliot pressed against him, feeling something inside finally relax. For the first time in his life he wasn't alone with this burden.
They stood like that for a long time, simply holding each other, until the trembling in Elliot's body subsided, until the tears dried.
Finally Elliot pulled back, wiping his face with his sleeve.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to... break down like that."
"Don't apologize," Darcy gently brushed the last tear from his cheek. "Never apologize for what you feel."
Elliot smiled weakly.
"It's late. I... I should go."
Darcy released him reluctantly, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary.
"Goodnight, Elliot."
"Goodnight, Darcy."
Elliot reached the door but turned on the threshold.
"And Darcy? Thank you. For not being frightened. For accepting."
"Always," Darcy exhaled.
***
Elliot lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Couldn't sleep.
The room was beautiful. Everything was perfect.
But his brain wouldn't shut off.
Thoughts spun. About Darcy. About how tonight Elliot had told him about his gift, about his darkest and most frightening secret. About how Darcy had accepted it. Without fear. Without judgment. With understanding and tenderness. About his letter that had opened Elliot's eyes. About how he'd saved him from the car. About how he'd cared for him when he was weak and vulnerable.
About what he felt.
Attachment. Gratitude. Admiration.
And love.
Because it was love. What he felt.
He loved Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Elliot got out of bed. He needed air. Needed to move.
He threw on a robe and went downstairs. The house slept. Only moonlight streamed through windows.
He exited into the garden through a side door. Night air was cool, fresh. The moon illuminated paths with silver.
Elliot walked, not knowing where. Just letting his feet lead him. And suddenly saw a silhouette by the fountain.
Darcy sat on a bench, gazing at the water. He was in casual clothes, hair disheveled. He looked lost.
"Darcy?" Elliot called.
Darcy flinched and turned. His eyes widened in surprise.
"Elliot? What are you doing here?"
"Couldn't sleep. Too many thoughts. And you?"
"Same," Darcy smiled weakly. "My head won't shut off."
Elliot approached closer.
"What are you thinking about?"
Darcy looked at him for a long time. Then exhaled.
"About you. Always about you."
Elliot's heart beat faster.
"I... I should go back," Darcy said, standing. "Don't want to disturb your walk."
He stepped past Elliot.
And something inside Elliot broke.
He couldn't let him leave. Not now.
"Fitzwilliam," he said.
Darcy froze. Turned slowly.
"You... you called me by name."
"Yes," Elliot took a step closer. His heart pounded so hard it seemed it would burst from his chest. "Fitzwilliam. I want... I need..."
Words stuck in his throat.
"What?" Darcy looked at him, hope and fear in grey eyes. "Elliot, what do you need?"
"I want to kiss you," Elliot blurted. "To understand what I feel... To be sure..."
The air between them stilled.
Darcy stood motionless, his face a mixture of shock and wonder.
"You... you're sure?" he asked hoarsely. "Elliot, if this is out of gratitude for accepting your secret..."
"No," Elliot shook his head, taking another step. "Not gratitude. I want this. Want to understand if what I feel is real. Or if it's just... just emotions of the moment."
Darcy looked for a long time. His chest heaved with heavy breathing.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Then kiss me," he said barely audibly. "Please."
Elliot closed the distance between them. The air thickened, electrified.
He rose on tiptoes. His hands lifted, fingers touching Darcy's cheeks, warm and rough with stubble.
Darcy closed his eyes, his breathing becoming ragged. His hands settled on Elliot's waist, carefully, as though afraid to startle.
Elliot leaned forward.
And their lips met.
At first it was tentative and gentle.
Darcy's lips were soft, warm, moving slowly. As though he were kissing something precious that could break.
Elliot realized the world was narrowing to this point of contact. To Darcy's taste, something deep and tart. To his scent that enveloped, intoxicated.
But then something changed.
Elliot deepened the kiss, his fingers burying in Darcy's hair. Darcy made a sound, something between a groan and an exhale, and pulled him closer, tighter.
The kiss became hotter. More insistent.
Their bodies pressed together and every point of contact burned. Darcy's hands slid down Elliot's back, pressing him so close no space remained between them.
Elliot caught how his scent flared: chocolate becoming sweet, smoke transforming into incense. An omega's scent responding to an alpha.
Darcy felt it and groaned, deeply, suppressedly. His hands gripped Elliot's waist with such force it became almost painful.
Tongues met and a wave of heat rolled through Elliot's body. He heard his own moan, realized his knees were buckling.
Darcy supported him, turned him, pressed his back against a nearby tree trunk. His lips moved to Elliot's neck, kissing, sucking skin at the pulsing point.
"God," Elliot gasped. "Fitzwilliam..."
His hands reached for Darcy's shirt, fingers clumsily seeking buttons.
But Darcy abruptly stopped. Pulled away, breathing heavily, his forehead pressed to Elliot's.
"We have to stop," he rasped. "Elliot, we have to stop or I won't be able to."
"Why?" Elliot couldn't think, couldn't reason. "Why do we have to?"
"Because... Because we're in the garden. Because if we continue, I won't stop," Darcy pulled back but didn't release him, his hands still holding Elliot. "And I don't want you to regret this in the morning."
Elliot looked at him, at this man who even now, even in the midst of passion, thought of him. Cared for him.
"I'm sure," he exhaled. "Darcy, I..."
"Please don't say it now," Darcy's voice was full of agony. "Not when we're both not ourselves. Say it in the morning. When your head is clear. When you've thought."
He pressed his forehead to Elliot's shoulder, embracing him.
"If you still feel the same in the morning," he murmured, "then we'll talk. About everything. About the future. About what this means. But not now. Not in haste."
Elliot hugged him back, burying his face in his neck, breathing in his scent.
And understood Darcy was right.
He could say
it right now. But it would be wrong. Not in the heat of passion, when neither of them could think clearly.
Tomorrow. In daylight. Consciously.
"Alright," he said barely audibly. "In the morning. I'll say it in the morning."
They stood like that for a long time, simply embracing under the moon, listening to heartbeats, feeling each other's warmth.
And for the first time in a long while Elliot felt... whole.
Loved.
And home.
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