I have a major obsession with LBD, and Jane is definitely the best big sister ever.

When Jane leaves LA, she feels sick. Not physically, but it seems as if she's just… drained. Flying has always made her unnecessarily anxious; she loves meeting new people, but plane rides seem oddly impersonal, surrounded by strangers who are also rushing to (or from, Jane thinks) somewhere. She wonders if any of the rest of them are going home to comfort a brokenhearted little sister or two.

Based on the bland expressions of those around her, dozing into their glossy magazines and peanuts, she doubts it.

Her arrival at the airport is greeted by her father, his eyes squinted with a lack of sleep and an overdose of worry. He picks up her luggage despite her protest, lugging it to the old family car while asking about how her job is going. She quickly switches subjects, inquiring quietly after Lydia since Lizzie said she filled him on the details once Jane had purchased her plane ticket. He stares straight ahead for a moment before popping the car's trunk and just shaking his head. They drive home in silence, Jane squeezing his hand the whole way.

Pulling into the driveway, Jane is amazed that nothing on the outside, at least, has changed. The house is still a little suburban exemplar, with its white picket fence and pale yellow paneling. It seems wrong that it can seem so cozy when its insides are so broken.

She doesn't complain or feel an ounce of indignation upon discovering that her mother has transformed her bedroom into a sewing room. Instead, she smiles and says, "Mom, that's great… I'm glad you've found something you enjoy… I'm sure you'll make some lovely quilts and dresses… Sure, I can help you get started on a purse pattern…" She then digs her comforter and pillow out of the storage closet, setting up camp with Lizzie in the den.

The moment the lights go out that first night, Lizzie begins to recount everything that has happened since she's arrived home; though Jane has already caught up on both her and Lydia's videos in the hours before her flight left, she allows Lizzie time to fume because it's what she needs. Jane even pays good attention, despite the sleepiness that is creeping into her bones and weighing down her eyes.

Once Lizzie has finished berating George Wickham for his misuse of the word 'peach,' Jane finally has time to insert some words of her own. "Have you heard from Darcy since you got home?" she asks. Lizzie stares straight up at the ceiling without speaking and, just when Jane thinks she's nodded off to sleep, she whispers, "No, no I haven't."

Lizzie turns away then, her breath vibrating in the dark space around them, and Jane quietly cries herself to sleep.

Lydia is worrying, that Jane will admit. Her solitude is nearly absolute; she comes out for meals but never speaks a word. The girls' mother doesn't seem to notice that her normally rambunctious daughter is now silent, but their father and Lizzie shoot upset glances back and forth across the table. Jane simply makes sure that they always have Lydia's favorite foods ready and waiting, from warm French beard (she used to speak in a pretentious French accent when they bought it at the supermarket and laugh all the way home) to hot potato soup (she once claimed that she was obviously Irish because she thought potatoes were the ultimate food and had bright red hair; she had never been particularly sensitive to other cultures, but she was always good-humored about it). Jane throws out anything containing peaches.

There are still no words from Lydia, but Jane does get a quick hug from behind one evening after dinner; she turns in time to see a slim figure race back up the stairs.

She knows that Lizzie, especially, is hurt by Lydia's lack of communication. She spends half her afternoons sitting outside Lydia's closed door, running her fingers across the carpet as she searches the Internet and makes calls, trying with all her might to get George's site removed. Sometimes Lydia is inside of her room; sometimes she's out at school. It's really about the only time she ever leaves the house. Jane wonders if she speaks in her classes or if she leaves the hood on her jacket up the whole way there and back, like she does all day at home.

Jane misses seeing her face, but especially her smile.

When she walks into the den and finds Lizzie filming, she isn't particularly surprised. Her sister or, really, sisters, seem to find solace in speaking the details of their lives to cameras and, somewhere, strangers who enjoy and identify with their stories. She wishes she'd hear Lydia make another video; that might at least prove she's getting a bit better.

Jane's mind drifts back to Lizzie when she asks how their father is doing, and from that point on she concentrates on her sister because the pain Lizzie feels is so immense it is threatening to overwhelm her. She doesn't expect the question about her job, one she's been dreading since before she even boarded her plane.

Jane has always aspired to see her fashions grace a runway; she loves sewing and drawing out designs, stitching and adding fine details. It comes naturally to her, like breathing and smiling. Giving up her job… It was nothing if not difficult.

She can still see the look on her boss' face, the disgust that followed her when she walked out the door to come home, to support her family. It moved in the air behind her, heavier than any LA smog, making her troubled mind even foggier as she packed to head home. But Jane has never done things by halves, and she couldn't have been very comforting from so far away; Lizzie came home, and she needed to, as well.

That's why, when her worried sister tries to wrap an arm around her, reminding her of the career she's lost, Jane can sincerely say that she'll find a new job. Lizzie needs her reminders about why they're home, and Lydia needs them there, so that when she's ready to talk someone's there to listen. Jane has a feeling that the Internet alone simply won't do. Jobs come and go, but sisters shouldn't.

Later, after Lizzie's finished taping her video and they're eating dinner, Jane announces to her family that she won't be returning to Los Angeles any time soon. Her mother clucks and murmurs, but the eldest Bennet sister pastes on a grin and reminds everyone that she was getting tired of sunburns, anyways.

And if, as she has trouble drifting off on the den floor, she still asks herself what ifs about a man in that bright, smoggy city, her family will be none the wiser.