A/N: Hey guys! This is my first attempt at an english story, I'm german, so I'm no native speaker, please forgive me;) I had english in school and most of the stuff I read and watch and listen to is english, but I sometimes make mistakes concerning grammar and punctuation, so if you notice any grave mistakes that make you laugh, please tell me, I like to get better at this;) a friend of mine actually corrected this and even though she is slightly better at grammar than I am (okay a lot better) we're both not perfect;)

I published this story some weeks ago in german, but even while writing I felt like it should be written in english (if that makes sense), so here it is! This story is seperated in three parts: Meryton, London and Pemberly and I'm gonna upload them during the next week (reviews make me happy and more inclined to upload earlier;)

So here we go! This story is inspired by the song "Ambulance" by My Chemical Romance (they're awesome by the way;)

Disclaimer: I wish I were Jane Austen, because then I would kick Bingley so hard in certain sensitive areas for leaving Jane, that there probably won't be any little Bingleys (so it's perhaps better that I'm not Austen) Oh and Wickham, too! However I'm not Austen and I don't own P&P:)

Like A Blue Flame

Part 1: Meryton... or not every photographer is a paparazzi, Darcy

Looking back, she had no idea how all of this actually started.

She'd been right in the middle of this stupid roller coaster ride before she knew she'd joined in and now she couldn't remember a single moment, where there hadn't been all that adrenaline in her blood, celebrating some fucking birthday party like there was no day after tomorrow.

But Darcy had always been good at keeping her heart under control, to open up meant to become vulnerable and being vulnerable was inevitably leading to getting hurt.

It was easy. Life was following rules, the principle of causality and of cause and effect. It was simple, predictable.

After that – the point in her history, that cut her life like a razor in two halves – she had tried to control everything as best as she could.

She had her friends, especially Charlie, and a lot of people, that were sticking like glue to her name. She had her brother, for whom she tried to be Mum, Dad and family at the same time and she had her aunt Cathy and her cousins Anne and Cora, even though she only tolerated the old lady for the sake of the family, she and George hadn't much left of.

Everything had started the moment she had talked to Charlie.

"Come on, Darcy", he had prompted during their weekly transatlantic phone conference and his voice had been so warm and happy and soothing, that she'd been at the verge of curling up in her big leather chair in the middle of the day in her way to fancy office and almost, almost started crying.

"I know you need a break, Darling", Charlie had told her, as if he could sense how close she was standing to the edge of a nervous breakdown after the fiasco with Willa. "And I so want to introduce you to my angel, Darcy, she is the greatest person, I've ever met and I'm sure you'll like her."

Oh, yeah, right, Charlies angel, Jane Bennet, who was now living with Charlie for two weeks in his fancy mansion at the beach in Meryton, California.

She'd felt how something inside her started to awake again and after some encouragements and hints about summer temperatures and a beach house, she'd instructed her secretary to book her the next flight.

After that she'd phoned George, who told her excitedly about his new sculpting workshop in Rome, and she had forgotten every lingering doubt and her bad conscience altogether.

The flight to California had passed by in a haze and before she knew it, she was in Charlies arms. Charlie, her childhood friend, her pirate buddy, who'd run through the deep woods of Pemberley and played cops and robbers with her, who took her to prom and held her under the living when everything broke apart.

Charlie, who smelled the same way he had back then and she laughed, when she put her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulders.

She hadn't recognized the tall, red haired woman with the angel smile, not until Charlie turned her around and introduced her as "his Jane".

The woman had smiled, a warm open smile, that reminded her of Charlies smile and without a hint of the jealousy in it, Darcy had detected so many times before in the faces of the other women, Charlie had dated and she decided to like Jane Bennet.

He remembered the first time he saw her.

It had been at that party, Charlie, his sister's boyfriend, had thrown for Darcy Fitzwilliam, his best friend from England and he had been to late.

The shooting at the beach had taken much longer than expected (especially because the model had screamed the entire time when a wave crashed onto her feet) and so the sun was nearly set at the time he had made it to Netherfield, the big mansion, Jane (to the utter delight of their mother) was living in for some time now.

The party was in full swing when he arrived, people with champagne glasses crowded the living room and the terrace, that led to the beach, and he had been in search of his sister, when he caught a glimpse of her.

She wasn't really tall, average perhaps, but the High Heels she wore blurred that impression. Her hair was shoulder-length and of a nearly white shining blond and her inky black eyes were focused on the softly crashing sea.

But the really extraordinary thing about her was her pale, nearly translucent skin and when Jane introduced her later as the illustrious Darcy Fitzwilliam, he thought he could see the thin capillary veins pulsating under it.

She smiled curtly, when he introduced himself, but said nothing more, while Jane and Charlie kept the conversation alive. Her eyes traveled back to the ocean and rested there for the duration of the chat.

It frustrated him slightly, even though he had no idea why and he excused himself shortly after that to get something to drink and to be informed by Lucas Charlotte about the thousand and one unnecessary facts concerning Darcy Fitzwilliam.

And so it wasn't really a surprise, that he soon found his way back to the living room and from there to the terrace, where he sat down on one of the chairs with the purpose of enjoying the sunset.

"Come on, Darcy", he heard Charlie exclaiming behind his back. "Why aren't you dancing with someone? I can't stand seeing you moping around in some corner. Why don't you go and have some fun?!"

He could hear her sigh before she answered with a quiet but clear voice. "I'm not moping around, as you put it, but as you well know, I don't know anyone of these people here and I'm not dancing with strangers."

"Why don't you go and dance with Janes brother? He's a great guy and Jane already introduced you two."

"The photographer?" He heard her snorting and an ironic smile plastered its form across his lips. "Nice try, Charlie, but I don't dance with unemployed paparazzi."

He knew he should be upset, angry even and somewhere deep inside it disturbed him to a certain degree, that she judged him so harshly, but he didn't like showing defeat or even hurt and so he stood up, glass in hand, before he turned around and shoot her a smile, that could easily be mistaken for a snarl.

Elijah Bennet. Eli. Janes twin brother, who didn't look a bit like his sister. Eli, the photographer, with the house at the beach, who only wore DocMartens or walked bare feet, who wasn't drinking alcohol, smoked sometimes, who smelled like sand and salt and whose wolfish smile could turn her insides upside down.

She hadn't said much when Jane introduced her to her brother. He wore jeans and a dark shirt, she could feel the pins and needles in her hands and stomach and she nearly forgot her voice for a second.

He didn't stay with them for long and she was grateful for it. She hated losing control and the prickling was a well known indicator.

She stayed near the door frame, that lead to the terrace, until Charlie found her there and suggested she should dance – oh and why not with Eli Bennet?

The words were out before she was able to think about them twice and she didn't knew he heard them, until he stood up with a grin on his face, that let her stomach drive roller coaster style.

Never would she have guessed, that it would be this one sentence, he'd never forgive her for.

He saw Jane's caller ID on the screen but it was Charlie, who told him, still gasping for air, that his sister had fainted on one of their walks at the beach and he was on his way seconds before Charlie could tell him, where his sister was at the moment.

He ran the three miles from his home to the mansion and when he arrived at Netherfield, he was surprised to find not one, but two blonds in the living room.

The Pamela-Anderson-caricature introduced herself with a scowl and an appalled look at his clothes as "Charlies sister Caroline" and one of the closest friends of "our dear Darcy".

He stayed just long enough to ask, where Jane and Charlie were, and was out and up the stairs in a matter of seconds, only Carolines loud shriek "Did you see that?!" followed him to the second floor.

His sister looked pale and vulnerable the way she lay between the many pillows. Charlie was holding her hand, while the doctor checked her vitals and made a few tests – three hours later they were told, that Jane was pregnant.

Elijah stayed upstairs, while Charlie spread the news, he could still hear Carolines shriek from downstairs.

Jane awoke some time later, hesitantly and confused and Elijah hold her hand, while Charlie explained the doctors result to her, a mix of nervousness and excitement on his face. Jane didn't say much, but Elijah saw the angst and happiness on his twin sisters face and agreed to stay a few days until she felt better.

The news of Janes pregnancy went like an earthquake through the entire house.

The next morning Darcy woke up early and in an attempt to escape Carolines tirades she quickly got dressed and went downstairs to the beach.

In her haste she hadn't paid much attention to what she was picking from her suitcase, she pretty much took what got between her fingers and now on the terrace on the way to the beach she hesitated.

She hadn't known, she had taken these shorts with her.

The material cut a little to tight into her hips and something poke against her thigh, she stopped, grabbed into her pocket and pulled a silver locket out.

Not just a locket... the locket...

Darcy had thought, she had lost it, that somewhere between her last holiday in Italy and the hasty flight back to England she'd left it in some far corner, a trash can perhaps – and until this moment she hadn't known that she hadn't missed it at all.

But here it was again, her fingers closed themselves around the metal, touching the fragile rose tendril, somebody engraved there a long time ago, the words, that had burned themselves in her memory.

In memoriam... in memory of... dum spiro spero... while I breathe, I hope...

What a fucking pathetic way of living ones life...

She hadn't noticed, how her grip around the gem had loosen until the chain fell with a slight rattle through her outstretched fingers and onto the floor.

Horrified she had bent down, the panic she felt, a mix of guilt and a paranoid angst, when suddenly a hand came up from behind and closed her mouth, effectively forcing her to stop.

"Shhhht...", a deep manly voice whispered just next to her ear and she felt the brimming adrenaline cascading down her veins, while her heart was beating in a rate similar to the one of a frightened rabbit.

"Stay still", the voice said quietly, while another muscular arm snaked around her waist, an antique camera in its hand. "Don't move." He carefully turned the wheels on one side of the device.

She nodded, somewhat hastily, the clicking ringing in her ears, while she stood there, in this semi-embrace of Elijah Bennet.

She could smell him, a scent of aftershave and salt and ocean and she was overly conscious of every centimeter skin, that touched his.

She heard the snap of the camera, blinked, saw, that he was photographing the sea-gull, that was picking after the locket and then it was over.

He let her free, moved back, she saw his smile and heard him humming along to the sound of the waves, while he made his way back to the house.

And she had no fucking idea, how long she stood there on this terrace, confused and with a heartbeat louder than the ocean.

Jane felt better the next morning, Eli made a quick stop at her door on his way downstairs and found her still asleep. He met Charlie on the stairs, while his sisters boyfriend carried a tray with omelet and orange juice to her room and gave him a thumps-up.

Eli would have never thought of meeting Darcy outside, but there she was, just when he was following the bold sea-gull, that had stolen his breakfast out of his hand.

She wore pretty tight white shorts and a navy blue shirt and he couldn't believe how fair her skin was, it nearly looked white in the bright sunlight.

But then the locket fell out of her hand and the sea-gull, he had named Lucy in his mind, launched into it, Darcy in an attempt to get her locket back bent down, but he just couldn't let her destroy this picture.

Eli could feel her freeze in his arms, when he put them around her. He grinned and adjusted the camera, slowly and carefully, directed the focus on the engraving in the metal.

He could hear her breathing and he enjoyed seeing the cool and sophisticated Darcy so utterly nervous and out of character.

"Done", he said and left her panting and shaking behind.

He didn't stay for long at Netherfield.

After the initial shock and insecurity had worn of, Jane and Charlie easily befriended the new situation and it only took as long as the following afternoon for them to start discussing potential baby names.

Eli stayed until the next morning and spent his time between fleeing from Caroline, advising Jane about possible designs for the nursery and arguing with Darcy.

The latter proved to be quite an amusing pastime, as cool and arrogant as Darcy seemed to be most of the time, she had an opinion about nearly everything (starting with organic food – more and more a commercial gag, and going from there to the question whether or nor pride was a necessary character trait – in her opinion "yes, because pride in contrast to vanity is no weakness.")

He rolled his eyes at these statements, but she was the only possibility for him to have an intelligent conversation in this household, as long as Jane and Charlie were stuck in baby heaven.

He called her ice-princess, glass-princess, the girl that broke, when she slept on the wrong covers.

He enjoyed annoying her, enjoyed the angry red rising in her cheeks, when he called her that.

He called her princess and she, in her utter stupidity, thought he was flirting with her.

Eli saw her the morning after, when he was back at his house.

He'd noticed the girl running along the beach only, when the focus of his camera caught her in between the waves. It clicked and the dark haired girl with the long legs was captured on film.

She turned around, when she heard the clicking noise, he saw how she furrowed her brow, lifted her hand and approached him, long, gracious movements, like a lioness on a hunting trip.

He started apologizing, but she just smiled, a bright, sunny laugh and put her hand forth.

"I'm Willa", she said without much advertising.

"Elijah", he replied and shook it. Her smile seemed to brighten up, she showed some pearly white teeth, till it disappeared, as if somebody switched it off.

Eli turned around and saw the pale, glowing figure of Darcy Fitzwilliam disappearing behind the dunes.

It was at the party, Jane and Charles threw some weeks after the incident, when Jane was safe in the third month of her pregnancy.

He was on the run, fleeing from his mother, who wanted him to dance with Coleen Richards and he was searching his younger sisters, who weren't allowed to drink anything remotely alcoholic but who did so nonetheless.

It was more of an accident, then on purpose, when he nearly crashed into Darcy and he was trying to make some sort of apology to leave her there in her ocean blue dress, when he saw Coleens bright red hair appearing behind a corner and he quickly asked Darcy to dance.

She was more than surprised, that he was asking. After seeing him and Willa at the beach, she had been in such an emotional turmoil that it took her nearly two hours to get back to Netherfield.

She tried to tell herself it was because of Willa, because of what had happened between them... tried to tell herself, that she hadn't been on her way to him.

But then he put a hand around her waist and they began to move slowly to the music.

Darcy tried to look him in the eye, tried to prove to herself, that they had no impact on her, none at all, that everything beforehand had just been a mix of heat and dehydration, but then she saw the small, ironic smile on his lips and she felt the sudden overwhelming urge to close the few inches separating them.

And sometimes she asked herself what would have happened if she'd done so.

Touching her was strange.

As pale and fragile as she was, he had thought he would promptly reach through her, if he would only attempt such a thing.

But she was no picture of dust and smoke, no phantom of eyes and ears and when he put his fingers around her waist, he was more than surprised how hot her skin was.

She was only human, no matter how supernatural she tried to appear and a small smile reached his face, when he thought about that.

She saw the smile and tried to hide her own.

"We should talk", he suggested, his gaze directed at her and she wondered what he was trying to find.

"And about what?" Darcy was more than glad to find her voice somewhere in the depths of her throat.

"Let me think... you could tell me, how hot it is outside and I would explain that this is totally normal for California. Then you could say something about the typical weather you have in England and we would at some point come to the conclusion that both countries have Pros and Cons. The normal stuff, you know."

"Seems like you have mapped out our whole conversation", she replied dryly.

"If it helps to get you at least talking for some seconds, it has fulfilled its purpose, don't you think?", he asked and she missed the sarcasm in his voice, because she was utterly distracted by trying to get all these pins and needles along her spine under control.

They danced for some time, until she got her composure back. "Do you spend most of your mornings at the beach?" She knew it was a dumb question the moment she discovered the smirk on his face.

"I'm living there", he replied and she wanted to explain her question, when he continued. "It's always very interesting", his blue eyes lit up, "you always meet a lot of really illuminating personalities there."

Her mouth opened slightly, she felt her anger rising, the shame not far behind, these old friends always got back to her. "Illuminating indeed", she replied emotionless and her arms and the points where they were touching felt numb.

They were silent for a while and she tried to find out how much she could tell him without hurting George.

"That's it?", she heard him asking. "You're dead silent and we're not talking about this?" His expression was playful, but his eyes were sparkling with fire and she wanted to shake her head, like her grandmother did and tell him what a foolish boy he was in trusting Willa Graham.

She stopped, took his blue eyes in hers, as if the answers for all these questions could be found there.

"You've got no idea, what you're talking about, Elijah", she said then, her voice painfully controlled and let go of his arms. "Willa is remarkably talented in making new friends, the question is moreover if she is able to keep these friendships."

He looked at her sharply. "Seems like she lost your friendship a long time ago."

She didn't jump back, even though his words awoke all these painful old daggers inside her, that stabbed and tortured her when she couldn't sleep at night.

"Remains the question why", she replied and left him there on the dance floor, while the music took its turns and sung about love and how easy it was to loose yourself in it.

He went home shortly after her, stayed just long enough to witness the announcement of Jane and Charlies engagement and disappeared after some congratulations, when Mrs Bennet stood up and vented her excitement towards the audience.

He made his way back along the beach, the pant legs of his tuxedo turned up so he could walk between the waves and when he came back to the house, somebody was waiting for him.

Some hours later, after the music went silent, after the majority of the guest were gone, after she had listened to Georges voice on her mailbox and was somewhat calm enough, she went in search of Eli.

She couldn't find him anywhere, bare feet she walked through the many rooms of Netherfield, over the dance floor, where some pairs still were, drunkenly holding onto each other, swaying to the music in their heads, and over the terrace down to the beach.

She walked along the wet sand, the moon just bright enough to enlighten the sharp backdrop of the dunes and the mountains against the sky and she felt the water under her feet, while making her way to Elis beach house.

But when she arrived, he wasn't alone.

She knew these dark tresses of hair, the laugh in the semi-dark and she saw how he bent down and kissed her.

She had thought she knew heartbreak, knew the sound of a shattering feeling, like glass falling onto the floor.

And so she stood there, bare feet and without a jacket and watched him kissing Willa Graham.

Six hours later she sat in a plane back to London, Caroline next to her.

A/N: So what do you think? Leave a review, tell me what you like or don't like or correct my mistakes;) "London" will come in the next few days, stay tuned for that;)