He woke again in the large bed in the over-decorated guest room at Pemberley. He was beginning to lose his desire to make the best of things.

When Georgiana suggested they visit the town, he leapt at the opportunity, thinking of escape and normality. Regardless of the fondness he was building for Georgiana, and for Darcy, too (even if that held danger and he knew he shouldn't let his appreciation of dreamy Regency literature impact his affections) he wanted to stop the unnerving feeling of not knowing where his mind was or what was real.

He'd had enough of not knowing what was going on with his mind. The evening before, after their earlier escape from the strapped-down formality, at a sumptuous but awkward dinner of several courses, Lady Catherine had been making a lot of noise about organising the wedding breakfast. Tav and Georgiana had shared a look, but hers hadn't had the worry of Tav's, and that was it. He was sick of the masquerade.

They rode in a carriage that Georgiana called a landau, with the hood down, because it was a clear, cool day, and Darcy rode beside them on a sleek grey mare. Even as Tav internally freaked out at the reception they were likely to get in town, he also felt a sense of relief that this had to be them bringing the farce to an end. If this was real life, and not a dream that he couldn't wake from, they couldn't maintain the performance in a public location. He tried to focus on that, and not the way Darcy's thighs, clad in tight, beige cotton, tensed against the flanks of the horse.

"My brother likes you," Georgiana whispered, leaning forward so the coachman didn't hear.

Tav had worked that out the day before, but he didn't know how the logistics worked somewhere like this. "Likes?" he asked, buying time and, hopefully, information.

"He is drawn to you, you must have noticed."

The happenings of the day before had prompted him to drift into sleep that night thinking of the lingering gazes that had quickly turned into blushing aversion when eye contact was made, to remember sparks he felt running up his arm anytime their hands touched across the breakfast table this morning. To consider the way Darcy seemed to relax around him, to laugh more often than brood. But it didn't mean anything until he worked out what was happening.

Tav allowed himself to ponder more as they journeyed the interminable distance to the town. Darcy and Georgiana had said it was very close, but it was almost an hour before the carriage crested a hill, and Tav could see the town. His breath caught at the first sight. Even distant, he could see it was far smaller than he'd expected, but it was stunning, the main road a long sweep curving into the distance, bordered by tall stone townhouses. The beauty of it wasn't why he gasped though. There were more carriages trundling down the main road, that continued the hard packed earth of the one they were on, with countless people dodging past them, some laughing and joking, others walking sedately arm-in-arm with parasols protecting them from the high sun. All of them dressed in the same kind of old-fashioned wear as he, Darcy, and Georgiana wore.

"What is it? Lord Greencester, please, you're making me afraid." Georgiana leaned forward, concern marring her face, and Tav realised he'd allowed a few hot tears to fall.

"Is it-," he stopped himself, wiping his eyes. There was no point asking if it was some kind of open-air historical museum. He knew they existed, in England and back home, but he'd never been to one. Maybe this did look like he would have imagined such a place, except he couldn't get past the thought that surely even the best of them had to make room for the 21st century somewhere. A parking lot. Visitors in modern dress. A generator hidden behind a building. From this excellent vantage point he could see nothing to break the illusion of being in the past. A heavy stone settled in his stomach with the loss of the idea that it might be a trick.

When they arrived in the town, Tav was in a daze. He managed to offer Georgiana his arm, mainly because she poked his side to prompt him, but he simply let her guide him as she entered various small shops and made purchases. She seemed pleased with his demeanour, which he supposed could be taken as strong and silent, but he was relieved when she suggested he leave her in the tea shop and take a walk by the river with Darcy, who had trailed them all day like a very grumpy bodyguard.

"You don't seem yourself," Darcy said, when they were away from the dust and noise of the town, strolling down a green-shadowed path by the side of a soothing stream.

"I don't know if I am. It's a dream. It must be."

Darcy gave him a strange look. "You mean the prospect of your marriage? I don't know what to say to that, other than Georgiana has accepted you, which makes you a luckier man than you deserve."

The knot in his chest grew, along with the thought that perhaps he was in a coma after all. He thought he'd heard stories, or at least read books, where people lived entire lives inside their heads whilst their bodies wasted away in a hospital bed. Was that him? Pride and Prejudice was his favourite book, and one of the last 'normal' things he could remember was reading it tucked a pillow fort on the small window seat of his dorm room at the university while that freak lightning storm had raged outside. Maybe he'd banged his head. Fallen out of the window? (A ridiculous thought, but he'd take anything.)

If it was a coma-dream, what would happen if he just said something? Would it be what was needed to wake him up? Was Sam by his side in hospital, begging him to wake? Was his dad there, flown in from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean? Or would it simply stop the dream, and send him into bottomless darkness?

"I don't belong here," Tav said eventually, slowing down so Darcy pulled ahead.

"What do you mean?" Darcy slowed too, and Tav had a sudden urge to take his gloved hand, so temptingly close, though he didn't.

"What would you do if I told you I don't come from this world?"

The look Darcy gave him that time was even stranger, though Tav conceded that was fair. But he didn't look amused, or frustrated, or wary. Merely contemplative.

"I'd say you aren't at all what I was expecting, from what I knew of you and what your uncle said."

Tav didn't know what to say next. Didn't know if he should push his point, which it didn't seem like Darcy understood. He didn't want to be carted off in a straitjacket, if he was wrong. And maybe that was fair. It could be his other life that was a dream. This one certainly felt real enough, and like Darcy had read his mind, he reached for Tav's hand, with a glance around to ensure they were still alone, his strong fingers wrapping Tav's.

"I know what you mean. I don't feel as though I belong either." Darcy didn't seem to notice the way the bright sun vanished behind a cloud in time with his words, muting the space around them.

Tav looked down at their joined hands, an ache building in his heart.

"I'm sorry. I can't-," He pulled away, turning back, almost running back toward the town, ignoring Darcy's plea following on the wind.

There were flashes of concerned faces, some leaning forward, some backing away, as he ran through the town, his breath panicked. He kept going though, finding the road they'd arrived on through luck, almost sprinting back up the slope. When he reached the crest he paused, back pressed against the rough stone wall, eyes darting everywhere, looking for something that would make sense.

He heard a cart coming, rattling on the rough road, and jumped over the low stone wall before they appeared.

It was minutes before he'd managed to calm his breathing enough, before the flow of tears had stemmed, and he could raise his red-rimmed eyes to see where he was. It was another field, like the one at Pemberley he'd walked through on his very first day, this one empty of sheep but coated in thick grass. It was peaceful, so he didn't manage to hold back the scream when he looked to his right and there was a woman watching him.

"Wha-," he began, but stopped when she let out a rich but strangely echoing chuckle.

"I'm sorry to have scared you," she said, and her voice had the same ethereal quality. She was pale, dressed in white – a simple dress like Georgiana wore at the house, not like the more structured thing she'd put on to come to town.

"I'm sorry, I must be trespassing," Tav said.

"Oh, Octavius... you are, but that is the least of either of our worries," she said.

"Wait. How do you know-? Who are you?"

He didn't have time to think more bad things about Sam, to worry he was going insane. Her face had such a gentleness to it, he just knew he had to wait and see what she said. Somehow it felt like the right, the only, thing to do.

"I was given a chance, Octavius. They've allowed me to fix my mistakes. I had to save Elizabeth, of course. She wasn't meant for here. But I have more to do. They aren't yet satisfied."

She paused, like she was waiting for his clever response, her head tilted very like how Darcy did it.

"Wait," there was a thought forming. A ridiculous thought, but it seemed right, and like he should simply go with it, something inside that didn't completely feel like himself. "Are you- is your name Miss Jane Austen?"

She smiled, looking genuinely pleased, and he realised with an uncomfortable jolt that he could see trees and the far stone wall through her.

"Well, that makes it a little easier. I really was not sure who they'd sent. What they'd accept."

"Who's 'they'?"

She hummed, thinking. "I think 'The Gods' is the easiest way for you to comprehend it. There have been some arguments. They haven't enjoyed how the world has been developing, and they did some research."

"The Gods?" Tav asked, subtly pinching his own arm even as he knew it would show him nothing, "The Gods did some research?"

"I believe that is the way they framed it, yes," she answered, strangely cheerful. "They determined the aspects that have most impacted society as time moved along. The areas where humanity have let themselves down, and I'm afraid they weren't very happy with me. They've given me this chance to fix things."

"To fix things-," Tax echoed, dumbly. The pinch had hurt, but he was back to thinking 'coma-dream' anyway. If he was really laying in a hospital bed somewhere, maybe solving the riddle was the way to set himself free.

"The Gods like to play games with mortals," she told him, "but they are very fond of you all, still. It was known in my time, and I'm sure it is also known in yours. They opened my story up. My most popular story. The one that had the most chance to make changes. But it's too late for me to make the changes I should have when I wrote it, so they want you to make them instead."

Tav blew air through pursed lips. This dream was getting weirder by the moment.

"Okay, I'll buy it." She looked confused but he ignored that. If he was going to wake up, he needed to be sure what his aims were. "I need to make changes in your story. To make it something the Gods want to read?"

"Well, more to make it something that improves society. Something that creates a new normal. They want to steer humanity back to the right path, the path that they have travelled askew from."

"So, what do I need to do?"

"Oh, that's easy. You need Darcy to fall in love with you and announce your marriage."

"What? Easy? But it's not legal, is it?"

"'Twas not in my time, but this is fiction, remember. They have already removed Elizabeth, put her somewhere better. You may have noticed that Darcy is starting to forget her existence. 'Tis because she does not exist here anymore. There is no person standing in your way. I always had it in my mind that he may have experimented, perhaps even that Wickham was in love with him, but their differences in status prevented anything further, and Wickham was made bitter by it. It made more sense to me than his mere ambition, that he always made such a mess of, but I couldn't make such things explicit, not then. But you have a chance to change that. But you only have five days left. I'm sorry I didn't visit you sooner, but they insisted I let you work it out yourself. They don't entirely understand how humans think."

"Sheesh," Tav whispered. "So, I have to get Darcy to propose? To admit he prefers men? And I have five days left? And then I go home. Or wake up."

Jane shrugged in an expressive movement that seemed utterly out of place, but said everything. She didn't really know, it was all hopeful optimism. Tav buried his head in his hands again, partially in despair, partially due to being overwhelmed, but when he lifted it again, she'd gone, leaving a peaceful, empty field and a sick feeling in Tav's stomach.