Chpt7: Scranton Has its Secrets

The weathered floor snagged her dress and scraped her back as he drug her to him and lifted her up and over his shoulder. He carried her back to the bedroom where she had first awoken to this nightmare. Gently, he lowered her to the mattress by the wall. Through swollen eyes, she watched him pull back a sheet that hid a tiny closet full of evening dresses. He chose two and alternately held one and then the other out in front of him. "The blue one," he said aloud and turned to her for confirmation. She blinked rapidly, eyes too dry for tears. "Yes, the blue one I think". He returned the pink one to the closet and delicately spread his choice on the bed. "You always look so beautiful in blue. It makes your eyes sparkle." His voice was light and cheerful as if he hadn't a care in the world. He squatted next to her and tapped her nose playfully. "You like blue, right?"

His smile seemed genuine, not predatory like it had last night, but when he opened the drawer to the nightstand and removed the over sized serrated blade, Sophia's eyes shot wide in horror. "No, no," he soothed rushing back to her side. "Don't be scared, sweetheart. I'm just gonna' cut the tape on your wrists so you can change clothes. Here, see," he said and slowly drug the knife under the tape. "You know, I don't really see why this duct tape is necessary," he shrugged, "but I'm not in charge so..."

Sophia watched him as he worked to free her hands. He held his tongue between his lips like a child as he concentrated on his task. His voice was soft and shy with no hint of desperation or frustration like before. There was a lightness to him, a soft bounce in his step. This was not the same man that had attacked her nor was it the same man that had cried while lying on top of her on the floor.

"Why are you doing this," she whispered.

"So you can change your dress," he answered matter-of-factly.

"No... Why are you keeping me here? What do you want from me?"

He lifted his chin slowly and studied her face. His entire being seemed to transform right in front of her. The physical features were the same, but evil rose behind his eyes and his expression darkened, setting his face in hard lines. His grip on the knife tightened until his knuckles turned white. He whirled and chucked the knife hard agains the wall. The scream that clawed its way from his throat was inhuman. Spinning back to face her, he wretched and spit and beat at his temples with his fist, his face red with rage. This was the man that had beat her feet until they were purple and swollen. He surged forward and pinned her to mattress. "What do I want from you," he screamed, showering her face with spit. "Are you kidding me? I want an apology, Andrea!"

She turned her face away and squeezed her eyes shut bracing herself for the worst. Long, thin, spider like fingers slipped around her throat. The more he screamed, the tighter his grip became. "I want things to be like they used to be. I want you to convince me that you didn't mean it!" Her lungs burned and light exploded behind her eyes, searing her retinas from the inside out. "Why is that so hard? Why, Andrea? Why!" The last thing she felt was the bone crushing crack of his head against hers before the world around her went dark and quiet.

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"You sure you want to do this," Beth asked as he chewed on his thumbnail in front of the oversized windows. Daryl had watched the plane they would soon be boarding lumber into Gate 16. Beth guessed at least two-thirds of its passengers had exited when the doors to the ramp had opened. She bit her lower lip trying to keep a smile at bay when Daryl scanned the faces of each passenger no doubt searching for signs of terror or nausea or whatever it was he expected to feel on their two hour and ten minute flight to Scranton.

"Daryl," she said again. He had started to fidget, pacing back and forth in front of the window. She made a quick decision and stepped in front of him. Cupping his cheeks, she gently forced him to look at her. "Daryl, you don't have to do this."

His eyes jumped back and forth between hers and for a second she thought he might turn tail and run, but then she felt him relax on a deep breath. "Nah," he said shaking his head. " You're stuck wit' me, girl."

The smile she rewarded him with had his heart racing for an entirely different reason. Daryl was sure he could live on that smile alone if it came down to it. Beth took his hand and lead him toward the gate, guiding them toward the back so that they were one of the last ones on the plane. She didn't let go of his hand until they were seated. "You sure you don't want the window?"

" 'm sure," he said as he fit and fiddled in his seat trying to acclimate to the completely foreign surroundings. His hands finally landed on his knees in a white-knuckled grip. He gave the stewardess his undivided attention as she went through the safety procedures. He even lifted out of his seat to see exactly where the emergency exits were located when she pointed them out.

When they finally made it to the runway, Beth peeled Daryl's hand from the armrest and secured it between her own. She twisted in her seat and rested her knees on his thigh and her chin on his shoulder so that he could hear her voice in his ear. When she started to sing, Daryl closed his eyes and focused solely on her melody. "Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have I done? I've fallen in love with a man on the run. Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please. Don't take that sinner from me. Oh don't take that sinner from me. He's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone. Oh I just wanna take him home..."

By the time Beth finished the song, they were thousands of miles above the earth. Daryl's eyes fluttered open and he turned his head lazily to face her. The small, tight-lipped smile he gave her was all the thanks she needed. It would be so easy to close the distance between them especially when Beth was looking at him with those big, blue eyes of hers. She tilted her head and Daryl's hand floated to her cheek. When the weight of his gaze got to be too much, Beth shifted so that her temple rested against his shoulder. When she felt Daryl's cheek against the top of her head, she closed her eyes and slowly drifted to sleep so very grateful that he had decided to take a chance and make the trip with her.

Daryl ran his hand lightly along her jaw stirring her slowly awake. Beth instinctively leaned into his touch, and batted her eyes against the cabin lights. Daryl's gruff whisper brought her attention his way. "Mornin' Sunshine."

Beth reluctantly lifted her head from his shoulder and stretched the best she could in the confined space. "Gettin' ready to land," he said, voice deep and rough.

Beth smiled at him sweetly. "I hope I didn't wear your shoulder out."

"Nah. 'S fine. But the guy behind us said somethin' 'bout your snorin'"

She sat straight up, eyes wide, " Nooooo."

"No," he said with a smirk.

Beth shot him the stink eye before turning her attention to the scenery just coming into view outside the tiny window. She saw dotted farm land and small suburban clusters surrounded by narrow rivers that cut the land into various shapes and designs. She grabbed Daryl's arm and pulled him over to have a look. She studied his face while he watched the scenery below take shape, and her gut clenched at his nearness. He had a beautiful face, rugged and finely etched. He caught her staring and returned the favor, enjoying the rise of pink in her cheeks.

From the airport, they headed straight to the University of Scranton. "Hi, Beth Greene. We have an appointment with Mrs. Grieve at 2:30."

"I'll tell her you're here," the young woman said. She did a double take when she saw Daryl and offered him a very inviting smile as she stood and turned, making her way to the closed office door behind her. Beth's eyebrow shot up, but Daryl didn't even seem to notice the other woman's attention.

Margaret Grieve was a petite yet stern looking woman in her late fifties, early sixties. They exchanged introductions and Mrs. Grieve pulled a thin file from atop her well organized desk. "This is everything we have on Gareth West," she said passing the file to Beth. "It's odd, really. As I told you on the phone yesterday, there is no picture ID in the paper file, nor is there one in the computer system. I can't explain it. I can, however, tell you what I do know about Mr. West. He attended this university on a Milton Earl scholarship. That particular scholarship covers tuition, room and board, plus on-campus employment. The recipient must maintain a minimum 3.2 grade point average, which Mr. West did up until his early departure from our campus."

"Is that an academic scholarship," Beth asked.

"In part, yes. The Milton Earl scholarship is only available to students from Pennsylvania who were either adopted or who grew up as a ward of the state."

"West was adopted?"

"No, as a matter of fact, he was not. The scholarship application with that information is also missing from his file. I was on the selection committee, however, the year that Mr. West applied. As you can imagine, the number of applicants is relatively low, thus I remember his story quite clearly. He was orphaned as a toddler when his mother committed suicide. His grandmother relinquished custody, and he was sent to foster care. I remember him to be a bright, polite, and good natured young man. He seemed very well adjusted despite his difficult upbringing. It made me wonder how a boy with his charm and intelligence had remained unadopted."

"Wher'd he work on campus," Daryl asked.

"That information is still in his file. He worked in one of the science labs on a research project with Dr. Joseph Morgan. He was also employed in the student outreach center as a math and computers tutor."

Beth glanced at Daryl. "We'd like to talk to Dr. Morgan and to someone in student outreach if we could."

"Let me just call and set that up for you. As you requested, you already have a meeting with campus police tomorrow morning, 9AM."

Beth and Daryl left the office of Mrs. Margaret Grieve, perhaps the single most efficient woman in Pennsylvania, with a file in hand and a plan for the next day. They walked in silence back to the rental car. "You think it's him," Daryl asked, breaking Beth's thoughtful silence.

"If it is, how in the hell did he erase his life?"

Daryl didn't have an answer, not yet anyway, but they both seemed to ponder the possibilities as they rode on in silence.

They stopped at a little diner near the school to grab a bite before heading to the hotel.

"How far is your aunt's place from here?"

Beth just about choked on her chicken sandwich. She had mentioned her favorite aunt in Pennsylvania, maybe once, in the time she and Daryl had spent together. When she thought about it though, she wasn't really surprised that he remembered. Daryl was the most observant man she had ever met, and he had the memory of an elephant. Still, she couldn't help herself. "How did you remember that?"

Daryl just shrugged. "Seemed important to ya'"

Beth stared at him, the bigger meaning behind his words warming her heart. "Oh," was the only word she could form. She was sure her affection for this man was written all over her face, but right then, she didn't care.

"Said she lives on a farm, right?"

"Right," she nodded gathering her wits. "She and my uncle live in Lock Haven. It's about a hundred and twenty miles from here."

"That ain't that far," he said leaving an unspoken suggestion hanging between them.

The waitress returned with their food and Beth dug in. It never ceased to amaze him how much Beth Greene could eat. "What," she asked as she wiped a big splash of ketchup from her chin.

"Nothin'," he grunted. "Tell me about Lock Haven."

"It's small... really, really small. Maybe 9 or 10,000 people if you don't count the university crowd. My aunt Deanna and uncle Reg have a farm on the river, the Susquehana. Say that three times fast," she said playfully before taking another bite of her supper.

Daryl watched and listened as Beth prattled on about her family, content to follow the melodic flow of her voice. "They have two sons, Spencer and Aiden, one younger than me, one older. Uncle Reg is a farmer and Aunt Deanna is a history professor at Lock Haven University. Their place is amazing. It's been in the family since the Revolutionary War. Deanna is my mama's sister. I used to spend all my summers there. Couldn't wait for school to end. You'd love it there, Daryl. There's acres and acres of huntin' land. We fish on the river, and they have this incredible tree house that my uncle built. I hope it's still there. I haven't actually seen my aunt and uncle since I graduated from the FBI Academy."

"Sounds nice," he said and decided right then and there that Beth would be visiting her family before they headed home.

Finally settled in their rooms at the hotel, Beth heard a soft knock on the door connecting her room to Daryl's. She opened it to find a sleepy eyed Daryl Dixon standing there in a T-shirt and pajama pants. "Jus' wanted to say goodnight."

She smiled shyly. "Goodnight," but rather than turn away, she leaned lazily against the edge of the door and waited for his eyes to find hers. "I'm glad you're here, Daryl," she said slowly on a breath.

"Yeah," he answered, voice thick and rough, "me too." A moment of heated silence passed between them. There was just something about her that both sped his heart and calmed his soul. He had never felt so lost as he did when she left for the academy, not even as a kid when he would come home to find the front door locked and nobody home until well after dark.

Something in her soft smile beckoned him forward. He reached for her, threading his fingers through the ends of her hair where it lay damp over one shoulder. Beth's breath hitched and a now, all to familiar fire, lit low in her gut. Her eyes fluttered closed when Daryl's fingers ghosted over her neck. His gaze traveled from her hair and to her eyes before landing on her mouth. She shuddered and caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. When her eyes opened, they were soft and bright and they seemed to shine like that only for him. Blood rushed in his ears drowning out that ever present voice of doubt and insecurity. Daryl felt that same pull toward her that he always felt. She was like gravity and he was helpless against it.

When his fingers stilled at the back of her neck, and his other hand settled softly on her hip, Beth lifted trembling fingers low to his waist and crumpled the hem of his T-shirt in her fist. Soft, hesitant lips connected with hers, but it was enough to send flames shooting through her veins. Heart hammering in her chest, she rose to her toes, increasing the pressure against his lips. He angled her head to the side, and she opened her mouth to his. When Beth's hand glided open-palmed up his chest and delicate fingers curled into his flesh, the tiny modicum of control that Daryl had been clinging to evaporated. She felt rather than heard the rumble in his chest as it moved upward becoming a low, guttural growl in his throat. He slid his arm around her waist, encircling her completely in his hold, finding a tiny sliver of exposed skin at the small of her back, and tugged her flush against him. Beth returned his fervor, keening against the feel of his growing bulge. Long, slow kisses became heated and hard. When Beth moaned against his lips, reality slammed into him, and he pulled back sharply, breathless and panting.

"Daryl," she breathed.

He shook his head, and she could read the apology in his eyes. "Should get some rest," he mumbled and lowered his forehead to hers. Shaken, all Beth could do was nod. Daryl pulled away trailing his calloused fingers down the length of her soft pale arm. He repeated his "g'night," but he didn't close the door and neither did Beth before stepping back into her own room.

A/N: So just a quick chapter to move the case along as well as a little angsty Bethyl. The next chapter is all Bethyl goodness and I'm so excited to post it! (Tomorrow!)

rc