Chapter Seventeen
Charles took the initiative. Perhaps to prove he meant to know her better, he pulled Lizzy along with him as they waited to purchase tickets. He asked her how school had gone, what it was like staying at her mother's house, where she planned on going for graduate school. His easy conversation helped her relax, so she could somehow pay attention to her surroundings.
"Well, where should we head first?" asked Charles, directing his question to the whole group. Lizzy tried not to look at Darcy, but his eyes were locked on her and she felt herself drawn to his gaze. "Why did I try to convince myself that I was not drawn to him?" she wondered. She couldn't avoid his gaze any more than he could turn his focus somewhere else.
"Let's loop around, see what catches our eye," Jane suggested, sensing the tension between them. With effort, Lizzy tore her eyes away and followed her sister silently. She felt rather than saw Darcy at her back. She couldn't tell if it was her imagination or if he was just giving an off immense heat, but she could feel his presence even if she couldn't see him.
She felt the loss when he sidestepped to avoid a kid running past, she knew when he increased his speed just enough to close the gap that created between them. She wasn't sure if absence really did make the heart grow fonder, but this new feeling of hyper-awareness where he was concerned made her think there must be something to the old cliché; if she closed her eyes and spun in a circle, she was sure she could pinpoint his exact location.
"Hey, classic carnival game." Charles grinned, stepping up to offer a dollar to a man by a booth. "Whatta say, Will? Should we win these girls some stuffed animals?"
Darcy didn't comment but stepped up to join Charles. They each picked up a baseball and started tossing them as hard as they could at a pile of milk bottles.
"Are you okay?" Jane whispered to her. Lizzy looked away from Darcy to focus on Jane.
"Yeah," she sighed. His presence threw her so much she couldn't even focus long enough to be angry at this setup.
"We can leave if you want," Jane offered again.
"No, it's okay. We need to talk. I think I need closure," Lizzy replied.
"Are you sure?" Jane wanted to know. "Charles and I never wanted to trick you, but Will…," she shrugged, "he kind of talked us into it," Lizzy couldn't help but laugh.
"Yeah, he's good at that," she admitted.
Charles interrupted their conversation to proudly present Jane with a small stuffed bear. Lizzy was purposefully keeping her gaze away from Darcy, but when he took her hand and slipped on a multicolored plastic bracelet, she snapped her eyes back to him. Her hand was tingling.
"Sorry," he shrugged. "You didn't seem like the stuffed animal type."
She wanted to bite back with 'how would you know?' But, as she looked down at the bracelet he had won for her and then back up to his eyes, she simply mumbled a thank you. Charles and Jane led them on and Darcy and Lizzy followed, this time side by side. Eventually, they made it to the Ferris Wheel. Jane and Charles were eager to go, but Darcy shook his head, stating he would wait for them. Charles didn't seem surprised.
"You don't like rides?" she asked, forgetting her vow to be silent.
"Some," he shrugged.
She frowned at his vague answer. As she was telling herself that he would never open up to her, he continued. "I don't like heights," he confessed, looking up as he said it.
"Really?" she asked, surprised.
"I got stuck up in a tree once," he seemed to be making an effort to talk, to overcome his natural reserve. "Richard just… kept goading me to go higher and higher, but once I reached as high as I could go, I looked down and I froze."
"What happened?" she asked.
"My father…" he frowned, as if the memory still stung him with embarrassment, "got me down."
She waited and he grimaced but continued.
"He brought me a ladder. Richard has never let me live it down."
"Seems like the type," her mouth quirked in a small smile before clearing her throat and resuming her stoic expression. Her curiosity piqued at the mention of his father, though. "What did your dad say when this happened?"
"He gave me an article in a psychology journal to read – about where our fears come from and how, evolutionarily, we may be predisposed to fear certain things because it helps us survive to be afraid of them," Darcy explained.
"How old were you?" asked Lizzy laughing.
"Eight," Darcy replied as if he didn't see anything unusual about it.
"Didn't that go over your head just a bit?" Lizzy wondered.
"I was somewhat an advanced reader," said Darcy shrugging again.
"Did it help?" Lizzy asked. "The article?"
"Yes, actually," Darcy murmured, thinking back on the event. "Knowing my instincts were telling me that my actions were dangerous and that I should be afraid of heights helped me ignore Richards teasing and get over my own embarrassment."
"So your dad knew you needed to overcome it intellectually," Lizzy commented.
"He was a great man," Darcy replied.
"But, when we were at the cabin, you climbed that cliff with the guys to get see who could get to the top first," Lizzy reminded him. Darcy furrowed his brow.
"It's different when I'm undercover. I can push myself to do things that I couldn't normally do," he explained. She digested this information, wondering if it said something about their relationship.
Charles and Jane had finally made it to the front of the line and were being strapped in. "We're going to walk around a bit," Lizzy called impulsively, gesturing ahead. Jane nodded. Lizzy glanced at Darcy and then walked down the lane. He followed.
"How are... things going?" Darcy hedged.
"In the neighborhood, you mean?" Lizzy asked.
"Richard said you wanted to tell me I was right," Darcy said, not answering her question. His tone was a bit eager as if he had just been waiting for an opening to talk about this.
"Oh," Lizzy commented. She had forgotten about her impulsive message. She had asked Richard to pass it on when she was still a bit giddy for not being burned alive in the warehouse with the rest of the Riders. "Yeah."
"About how dangerous it is, you mean?" Darcy asked, a hopeful gleam in his eye. "About how you need to move out of there?"
It would be unfair to lie to him, but she wanted to. It stung to realize how much she didn't know him, and despite the effort, he was making now, she still wanted to punish him for the hurt she felt when he left. However, she knew she would regret the knee-jerk reaction immediately. For too long, it had been her MO to respond to betrayal and hurt with more pain and heartache. But she had never been in a relationship like the one she had with Darcy. She cared too much about his opinion and wanted too much to become the person he thought she was.
She remembered the panic she felt when she saw on the news the faces of the men whose names she gave Jay. She remembered her fear when Marco almost set the whole warehouse ablaze with everyone in it. She remembered how, finally, she relaxed in the safety of her mother's home. She had been independent her whole life, but she finally saw that it was a poor excuse for stubbornly living in a place where she could very well be killed.
Whether it was a part of her personality or whether she learned it from her environment, she had never truly shown her vulnerability with anyone, not even her two best friends. Jane never understood the constant danger in which Lizzy lived, and Charlotte never knew how much relief Lizzy felt being at home with her family. For the first time in her life, she wanted someone to know the woman behind the bravado and sarcasm she presented to the world. Darcy, in the short time they were together before he had to flee, had understood both sides of her.
Under his protective care, she had felt secure enough to share some of her fears. When they were alone, she relaxed with the knowledge that she could be herself, and that she had someone who was always watching her back, but still accepting that she was somehow tough enough to survive in this environment. She also knew that while she had perhaps been more open about her past than he was, she had to acknowledge that she was still just as stubbornly tight-lipped about her feelings as he was and that if she wanted him to trust her and open up, that she would have to do the same.
"Yes," she finally said resigned, stopping to look him in the eye. "You were right."
His smile, she was pleased to note, was not smug. It was full of relief.
"Do you really care that much about where I live?" she goaded him.
He opened his mouth, but then pressed his lips together and blew an angry breath out through his nose. Decisively, he led her between two booths so they could have a little privacy. If that didn't make her heart skip a beat, the way he inched towards her certainly did. She tried to move away, but there was a pole behind her and she had nowhere to go. He leaned over her, his mouth hovering above hers.
With a hand on his chest, she said "Stop."
And he did. He wouldn't kiss her without her permission, but he didn't move away from her either. When she had raised her hand to his chest to stop him, she became aware of his body, especially his strength. She traced her hand along his shirt, following along with her eyes for a moment. Then, she looked up to gauge his reaction to her admittedly mixed messages. His eyes were black and his gaze was intense, but she knew he wouldn't move either to or away from her until he knew for sure what she wanted.
She looked back down to watch her hand run lightly along his chest, and, at that moment, what she really wanted became clear. Of course, she wanted him to kiss her. She was afraid though, so afraid that her heart would break if he left her again.
"When I'm safe," she begins, licking her lips. His eyes focused on them but returned soon enough to her eyes. "When Wickham is behind bars, what happens then?"
"When my presence in your life isn't a threat," his voice is deep, deeper than she's ever heard it and it sends a shiver up her back. "When no one cares about who you're dating," his serious expression lightened, "I'm going to take you to dinner."
"Dinner?" she breathed a low laugh. He puts a hand on the pole next to her head, inching even closer.
"Dinner, and maybe a movie? Is that too cliché, too boring for someone who once broke into the mayor's personal warehouse and helped herself to a two thousand dollar bottle of wine on a date?" Darcy asked. Lizzy's eyes widened and her face flushed red.
"Rob told you about that?" she guessed. "I'll kill him."
"So it's true," Darcy raised an eyebrow.
"I'll never tell, detective," she flirted.
He leaned down to kiss her and she was perfectly willing to let him when a loud pop close by jerked him away from her in surprise. He had half turned, instinctively pushing her behind him slightly. He relaxed when he realized that it was only someone lighting off some experimental fireworks for the show later on tonight. He looked back at her.
They were a long way from healing their relationship, and that recognition helped her take a step back and continue walking on the fairgrounds. He didn't take her actions as rejection, however, and he followed her, making an effort to do his part in the conversation.
At one point, he told her that he had heard about a warehouse fire in the Riders territory and that, if the rumor was true, it almost got out of hand. She tensed, wondering if he knew the whole story yet. "Is he just trying to get me to come clean-or is he just asking out of curiosity?" she wondered. He was too observant, of course, and he could tell right away that she was directly involved.
"Elizabeth!" His tone is part incredulous and part censure.
"It's not like I started the fire," she said to defend herself. She immediately regretted saying anything at all. "I don't want to talk about it," she said, shaking her head dismissively. He obviously wanted to get the whole story, but he also wanted to stay in her good graces. He managed to bite his tongue.
They eventually met up with Charles and Jane again, and the group went on some rides together. Lizzy was starting to relax again and actually enjoy her time with Darcy. Despite her earlier thoughts on the subject, he was not so different from his alias, Will O'Mara. He was more reserved, his casual touches almost non-existent, and he still seemed to prefer a scowl to a smile. His interactions with Charlie were eerily similar to how he joked around with Rob, however. He was also more talkative, but that could be because he was trying to show her he was making an effort to let her see the real him.
They played games and went on rides – as long as height wasn't an issue. They rode bumper cars, the tilt-o-whirl, and Darcy even agreed to join Elizabeth on the flying dragon's ride; a relatively tame ride that rotated the riders around as they also lifted them into the air at random. He put his arm around her and she reflexively leaned against him, resting a hand on his knee.
"You can hold my hand if you get scared," she teased him with a smile. He gave her a rueful one back but told her he may take her up on the offer. When the ride started, however, and they were lifted into the air, he seemed not to be bothered. He looked around at what could be seen from this advantage and pointed out that it looked like the fireworks show was about to begin.
After that, they slowly made their way to the crowd of people either sitting in the metal stands or milling around the fence chatting with their friends. Charlie and Jane led them to an open spot at the top of the bleachers, but there was only room for two of them to sit side by side, one couple at the top and the other a level below them. Lizzy took the initiative and claimed the topmost seat in the corner.
Jane hesitated; she wanted to make sure Lizzy was still okay with being alone, sort to speak, with Darcy, but didn't know a subtle enough way to ask. Luckily, Lizzy noticed. She smiled and shook her head slightly, answering her sister's unasked question. Jane sat in front of Lizzy and took Charles's hand to pull him down close to her.
Darcy slipped around Charles and sat next to Elizabeth, the number of people on the bleachers making it necessary for him to sit rather close. She shifted to give him more room, but she was already sitting against the metal side of the bleachers. He shifted when she did, putting his arm around her once more.
The four of them made idle conversation until the first of the fireworks started going off. They lifted their heads to the sky while oohing and ahhing at the display. Lizzy caught Darcy's gaze halfway through. This was what she had wanted – to be with him outside of the whole undercover mess, to see him away from the dangers of the people he hunted and the people who might have killed her if they knew where she was and who she was with right now. She just wanted a normal evening with him where they weren't playing roles for other people's benefits. And it felt wonderful.
She realized they had been gazing at each other for too long, and as she turned her attention back to see the ending of the fireworks show; she shifted closer to him, her arm resting once more on his leg. He squeezed her shoulder lightly before dropping his hand down to her waist. The moment was comfortable, natural. She thought that she could get used to this, if only he could manage to find a way to get the murderous drug dealer off the streets, preferably before he killed her.
The fireworks ended, the fair slowly closing and most of the crowd trickling out towards the parking lot. Darcy had dropped his hand to his side now but stood close on their slow walk back to their cars. Lizzy leaned against Jane's car while her sister said goodbye to her fiancé. Both she and Darcy looked away a bit uncomfortably as their friends shared a tender kiss.
"Richard might stop by with some news about the case on Monday," Darcy said, turning his back to the couple. "The DNA test results from that necklace are supposed to be in."
"I have to stop by school in the afternoon to drop off some paperwork. That's probably the safest place to meet," she replied.
"I'll let him know," Darcy nodded. He stepped closer. "Thanks for tonight," he took her hand in his, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. "I know you weren't eager to see me."
"No," she agreed, looking down at where their hands were joined. "But, I'm glad you set this up. It was," she paused, trying to find the right words. "It was nice to spend some time with you."
"I'll get this thing with Wickham wrapped up as soon as I can," he said with determination, and then his face relaxed into a smile. "Then maybe I can buy you a glass of wine."
She smiled, but shook her head. "Turns out, I'm not a big fan of wine, no matter how expensive it is."
"I'll remember that," he said, and then tugged her hand so she took a step towards him. He leaned down and gave her a chaste kiss before she could fully process if she welcomed the act or not. As soon as his lips touched hers, she wondered why she would ever think to deny him.
Too soon, he stepped back. Jane was sliding into the drivers set, so Darcy opened the door for Lizzy.
"I'll see you soon," he said determinedly.
"I believe you," she whispered, squeezing his hand slightly before slipping into the car.
The next day, they all got ready for dinner with Charles' family. Lizzy was not looking forward to the evening with Caroline, but her two younger sisters would make snarky comments with her if things got bad, and that would help. Anyway, she had faced worse.
The dinner was pretty much what was expected. Louisa and her husband barely spoke a word to anyone and Caroline only commented when she thought she could get away with her backhanded compliments. Their mother, Henry, and Charles' dad seemed to make efforts to get to know each other, and Jane and Charles did their best to help the conversation between families flow.
Just when she thought she would make it through the night without incident, the subject of Will Darcy was brought up but none other than Caroline.
"I mean he's practically family; I don't see why he couldn't join us," she seemed to pout at her brother. Lydia caught Lizzy's attention, then not so subtly rolled her eyes.
"This night is for the Bingley's and Bennet's to get to know each other," Charles said; he and Jane glanced at Lizzy then quickly looked away.
"And the Long's," Caroline smirked, clearly making a statement about their blended family.
"I'm so looking forward to meeting your best man, Charles. It's such a pity he couldn't stay longer at the engagement party," Fanny said with her usual enthusiasm.
Jane was too far away to say anything, but she caught Lizzy's eye again and Lizzy could practically hear her voice in her head – we need to tell mom about Will soon. Lizzy grimaced but nodded at her sister. It wouldn't do to wait until their wedding for her family to find out Will Darcy and Will O'Mara were the same person. Lizzy particularly dreaded her mother finding out she had been dating a man of Darcy's stature and had let him get away. She had practically loved him as a lowly mechanic. When she found out he was really the heir to a fortune 500 company, Lizzy would be in for an earful.
Although Caroline and her mother both went on about the allusive Will Darcy, Lizzy felt she handed her reactions appropriately. She did not, for example, tell Caroline to shut the hell up about Lizzy's boyfriend – er, ex-boyfriend. Nor did she point out how pathetic she thought it was to lust after a guy who showed absolutely no interest in you. To be fair, she had never seen them together, but she couldn't imagine Darcy being impressed with someone like Caroline.
Thankfully, the dinner ended not long after.
"You have to tell mom," Jane whispered to her as she hugged her sister goodbye.
"I know," Lizzy whispered back with trepidation. "I will, I promise."
"Soon," Jane pulled back. Lizzy nodded.
"Soon," she sighed.
The next day being Monday, Lizzy was back home. It was the first day she had been alone since school started and it didn't take much soul-searching to conclude that she had dreaded coming back. Life at her mother's house was so much easier; she didn't know how she would get through these three months in the neighborhood without the safety of going to school. She would probably go back to work at the doctor's office of course, but that would still leave her with too much free time where she would have to avoid Wickham without a believable excuse that she needed to spend her time doing something else.
Darcy's words about meeting Richard had never been far from her mind; it had seemed like he was close to getting Wickham off the street and she was eager to hear about the DNA evidence. She nervously paced around the small apartment, moving things around and cleaning here and there, before it was finally time for her to make her way to school.
She took the bus there without incident, and then looked around for Richard's car. She didn't see it and he didn't approach her, so she made her way into the business building to drop off the paperwork. She had just left the main building and turned left to make her way through the English Hall, her head full of the last-minute steps she had to take care of to be able to graduate when three guys approached her and blocked her way.
Coming back from her thoughts, she noticed that they were part of Wickham's crew. At first, she thought she had not paid attention to them because she wasn't expecting to see any of Wickham's guys on a college campus, but then she realized one of them was a recruit whose name she couldn't remember and the other two had been around but had never interacted with her.
"Wickham wants a word," one of them said. He ushered her into a nearby bathroom before she could question the statement.
The recruit stood outside the door of the men's bathroom she had been pushed through and the other two came in with her. "Not a good sign!" she thought. She looked around, and there was Wickham, sitting comfortably on the sink. He jumped down when she was led in and walked close to her, his face showing that he was confident in his power over her.
"Hey Lizzy," he greeted.
The two boys fell back slightly and stood by the door, blocking her only escape. That was not a good place to be in, and Lizzy felt panic settling in. "Can I get to my phone? Richard is supposed to be close," she thought, making an effort to push the fight or flight instinct down and think her way out of this. She doubted she could do much without Wickham noticing, and she knew he wouldn't buy any excuse she could give that she needed to make a quick phone call.
"Hey Wickham," Lizzy tried to sound casual.
"We never really got a chance to sit down and talk about how that cop managed to fool you into believing he was just some car mechanic," Wickham started.
Also not a good sign. Why now all of a sudden did he want to bring up Darcy? Did he somehow see them together? Was there someone there at the fair she had not noticed? Someone who brought the news back to Wickham that they were seen holding hands at a county fair an hour outside of the city?
"He enrolled in school. We had math together," Lizzy said, focusing on the lie they had told so long ago, then shrugged. "I guess he knew I was close to you."
"Seems like a lot of effort just to get to me. You've never introduced anyone to me before, why would this guy be any different?" Wickham wondered. He spoke as if he was curious, but she could hear the accusation.
"He probably knew I was friends with Rob," she said, grasping at the first thing that came to mind, still trying to sound casual. "He did buddy up to Rob pretty quickly after the party. He was probably trying to get close to him to get close to you."
"See, now that sounds plausible," Wickham wagged a finger at her. "I was just saying to the guys, there has to be a reason this cop story looked like was a big pile of bullshit and there it is! I knew that with your brains you could make sense of it."
Lizzy was silent. There was no way she was off the hook, but she prayed all he meant to do was scare her. It was one of his favorite past times, after all.
"Thanks for clearing it up," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder, his face all charm and smiles. She relaxed slightly.
"No prob-," she started to say before Wickham sunk his fist into her side. She doubled over from the pain, but he still gripped her shoulder tightly.
"It has to be said, of course, that if you ever contact him, or bring another cop into my house..," he trailed off, obviously letting his actions speak for themselves. When she was just straightening up to see if she could talk her way out of this, he backhanded her so hard that she staggered to the left a few steps, mercifully managing to stay on her feet. She wanted to fight back, God how she wanted to fight back! The two men by the door stopped her from retaliation; she would never be able to fight the three of them off.
That wasn't the only thing that frightened her, however. She knew that he brought these three specific men from his crew for a reason: They didn't know her, didn't have any connection to her. Rob would have stopped Wickham before he went too far. So would a lot of the guys in his crew. But these men? Wickham could beat her to a pulp and they would not raise one finger in protest.
"Next time you want to sleep around with the police in my neighborhood..," he continued. She tensed, knowing what was coming. He slammed his fist into the side of her head and she crumbled to her knees, seeing stars while he got a few good kicks in her ribs. Finally, he laid her on her back and stood over her, his hand going around her neck. His grasp was firm, but he didn't squeeze down.
"Just remember this. I can get to you anywhere, anytime. You may think you have friends, but all you have is people to retaliate after it's too late. If I find out you are still working with O'Mara, or any cop, I…will…kill…you."
She would never forget the look in his eye. She had stupidly assumed she was in no danger of being his victim when Darcy had told her of the missing women. She had underestimated him because she believed she had understood his character. Now she realized that this was the real Wickham.
He stood still, his hand grasping her neck but not squeezing until finally, his hand slipped away and he stepped over her to walk towards the door.
"One more thing," he said. He stopped to pick up her discarded backpack and shoved bags of drugs into it. "Since it was your fault I lost my connection in this school, you will be the one to step up and earn." Still, she said nothing. What was the use of mentioning the fact that she would never be back at this school? It seemed best to just ride this out without comment. "I expect to be paid by the end of the week for these. I'll be watching."
She heard the door open, then close. It was several minutes before she pulled herself off the bathroom floor. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her lip was split from where he backhanded her and the side of her face was already bruising from where he slammed his fist into her.
"Fuck!" she panted. She ran the water, gathered some brown, rough paper towels, and waited until the blood stopped flowing from her lip while taking stock of her injuries.
Her head throbbed, but that was to be expected. Did she have a concussion? She didn't think he hit her that hard, and anyway it was mostly her face that took the impact. Her split lip was painful but probably the least of her injuries. Currently, her worst pain was coming from her left side where Wickham had first sunk his fist and then kicked a few good times. Broken ribs? Probably not, but surely bruised. She thought of calling Jane but then dismissed the idea. She would not bring this mess to Jane's doorstep.
She grabbed her backpack, groaning from the pain of leaning down, and then slowly, very slowly, made her way out into the parking lot towards the bus station. She needed time to think and the only comfort she had at the moment was that Wickham did not want her dead. It was safe, therefore, to go back to her apartment and think about her next move.
It would be a long painful trip on the bus, but until she understood the meaning of this sudden attack, she could not enlist Rob, or JJ, or anyone for help. They would take one look at her and demand to know who did it. Luckily, in this part of town, a woman who looked like she took a beating wasn't going to attract much attention on the bus ride home.
While she was slowly making her way to the bus stop, hoping she would make it in the next five minutes instead of waiting an hour for the next bus, a sedan pulled up next to her.
"Liz!" Richard's voice reached her from the open passenger window.
She sucked in a breath, her heart beating a wild rhythm in her chest. She had completely forgotten about Richard. She started to look around to see if anyone was watching, then realized how suspicious that would look and leaned over, painfully, to make eye contact with him.
"Jesus!" he breathed, gripping the steering wheel and leaning slightly towards her. "Your face-"
"Get out of here," she hissed to him, and then made an exaggerated shrug. "I think it's that way," she said, straightening up and pointing to the nearest building, acting as if she were giving him directions. "Sorry! I don't know," she shrugged some more, shaking her head.
"Lizzy-"
"No problem!" She smiled in a friendly way and gave a little wave before continuing onto the bus stop. Christ, she thought, he'd better have taken the hint. A moment later, Richard pulled away and, to her relief, even pulled into the parking lot of the building she had pointed to, getting out of his car and holding up a paper, looking convincingly lost.
She laid her head back against the tree she was leaning on for support while she waited for the bus, not paying him any more attention.
On the ride home, she thought about this attack: It didn't come out of nowhere. If Wickham wanted to punish her for bringing a cop to his house, he would have done it a long time ago. Was this to see who she went to for help? She mentally went through the most likely candidates. Rob was probably first on the list. She knew he would just be pulled into the middle, eventually having to choose between Wickham and Lizzy. Lizzy wouldn't do that to him.
Number two would be JJ. He had his hands full with the war between the Family and the Riders. Was Wickham hoping she would go to him, pulling him, and possibly a good chunk of his gang, away from the fight to deal with Wickham? Did Wickham have a plan with the Riders to lure JJ out? It was the most probable reason since he had also asked for a meeting with JJ. She couldn't risk going to him either.
Did he hope she would go running to Darcy? Proving that she knew he had been a cop? That she was in fact helping him the whole time? Well, he would be disappointed in that as well.
What if she didn't go to anyone? What if she took her beating, sold his drugs, and went on with her life? If she sold his drugs one week, she would be agreeing to be part of his crew and she would never get out. That would be it.
Her head throbbed, and she felt like she was missing a piece of the puzzle. Wickham didn't want her dead. Well, not at this moment anyway. This attack had to be for a reason, and no matter how much she wished she could call in every favor she was ever owed to take Wickham apart piece by piece while she stood over him, she knew she had to be smart.
Finally, she made it home. Charlotte was gone, but that was fine. One look at her and she would have called JJ, and for now, at least, Lizzy was already determined not to involve anyone.
She also didn't have the brainpower to plan her next move yet so she took a quick shower, swallowed some Advil, and gingerly got into bed. This wasn't the first time she had been jumped – it was basically a rite of passage in this neighborhood. It had been years, of course, but Lizzy did know that, whether for dislike or retribution, there was rarely a beating dished out without a reason behind it. As they grew older, her association with certain people had been the catalyst. Roughing her up had been a message to people like JJ that they had vulnerable friends and to watch their back.
What, therefore, was Wickham's reason? She had underestimated him. Not only was he an arrogant druggie who looked down on people, but he was clearly a sociopath. If he had not restrained himself, she had no doubt he would have choked her to death.
Her thoughts swirled around her Wickham problem for a while, but soon she was asleep.
She was startled by the sound of someone pounding on her door. She was disoriented, looking around and not knowing what time it was except that it was dark outside; she didn't even know where she was. She sat up and immediately regretted it. Her left side throbbed, the pain suddenly returning with the memories of what had happened that afternoon. The left side of her face wasn't much better.
The pounding continued. With an irritated sigh, she stood up, straightened her worn t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, and pulled her hair forward on her face in hope of blocking the bruise she wore. The pounding continued as she shuffled down the hall.
"I'm coming!" she called out, groaning; the knocking continued as insistent as ever. "Alright, alright, I said-"
She yanked the door open with an irritated scowl on her face, and there was Darcy, standing in the hallway.
"Shit!" was all she could say, feeling dread. Of course Richard was going to tell Darcy the state she was in when he saw her this afternoon, and of course Darcy was going to come by to ask questions.
"I made sure I wasn't seen," he assured her, stepping in and closing the door behind him.
He then blinked, his eyes turning cold and full of anger. He reached up, and even though she jerked her head away from him, his thumb grazed her lip. Following his thumb with her tongue along the cut, she felt how bad it was compared to a few hours ago. It had stopped bleeding, but it stung whenever she moved her lip. When she had jerked her head back, her hair had moved to reveal the bruising on the side of her face. Darcy gently pushed her hair further back to get a good look at her face.
He sucked in a gasp. "Lizzy," he murmured. She winced.
"Is it that bad?" she wondered, not having seen it since her return home. She guessed it was all shades of purple by now.
"What happened?" Darcy asked. His voice was gentle, but his eyes were steel.
She sighed, running her tongue over her lip again. She saw the scene in the bathroom roll in front of her eyes, but in fragments and out of order. She shuddered at the memory: the look on Wickham's face when he stood over her, murder in his eye; feeling trapped with the two men blocking the door; the pain and surprise as he hit her for the first time.
"Tell me," he urged.
"You don't want to know," she said instead. She could not relive those moments now that the adrenaline had left her. She would be forced to acknowledge how close she had come to death this afternoon, and then she would probably start bawling.
This was the wrong thing to say because, after a brief moment when concern washed over his face, his eyes went back to anger; only now she felt it directed at her. "What's the point?" She stalled what he was about to bite back at her. "You couldn't do anything about it anyway," she argued.
"If it doesn't matter, then why won't you just tell me?" he asked, his voice low and controlled. She sighed wearily.
"I don't have the energy to fight," she knew he must have heard the way her voice broke.
After a moment, he stepped forward to put his arms gently around her, one hand moving her hair out of her face and stroking the back of her head while the other went to her neck, resting delicately as if he were afraid to touch her. She wrapped her arms loosely around his waist and turned her head to rest the unbruised side of her face against his chest, a large lump stuck in her throat.
"Please, Elizabeth," he murmured in her hair. "Whatever happened can't be worse than what I'm imagining," she thought that was probably true. Knowing Wickham as he did, he was probably imagining much worse than the reality.
She tried to put thoughts and images into words, but they could not get past the lump in her throat. She grasped the back of his shirt in her tight grip and tried to control her emotions, having a long practice of burying her feelings. However, Darcy's gentle touch and obvious concern fought with her attempts at detaching herself from the situation and she could not pretend she was telling someone else's story.
"It was Wickham," she sighed, her voice cracking. "At school. Cornered me in a bathroom," she paused, gripping the back of his shirt again. "Those girls he killed," she had to ask, suddenly had to know. "Did he…" she brought one hand up to touch her throat, imagining she could still feel his firm grip. While she was distracted, Darcy pulled back to get a good look at her. He noticed her hand and a bit of panic rose in his eyes.
"Did he...," he echoed her words, gently pulling her hand away to get a good look at her neck, searching for bruising that would indicate she had been choked.
"No," she took a breath. "He wanted to," she shuddered again; Darcy rested his hand where her neck met her shoulder, his thumb lightly rubbing against her neck. "He wanted to kill me, Darcy," she knew he would see the panic in her eyes, she knew he would feel guilty and afraid for her but she couldn't brush this off and pretend that it hadn't affected her, not to him. "I thought he might do it."
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. The grief in his voice was almost palpable. "You're never going to be alone with him again." His voice was instantly steel, and the force behind it made her jump slightly. "You're safe now, I promise."
She would have scoffed if she had been in a normal mood, but after what had happened, it was exactly what she needed to hear. He pulled her close to him once more, hugging her to him and running his hand through her hair in a soothing manner. "I won't let anything else happen to you."
For some reason, that broke through her defense. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her face in his chest. "It's okay, Elizabeth," he soothed. She cried silent tears, taking shuddering breaths as he rubbed her back and spoke words of comfort. After a while, her inner voice challenged the comfort he was giving her, reminding her how easily Wickham could have killed her today. She could not forget the look on his face revealing just how much he wanted to do it.
"Darcy, we both knew the risks when all this started," she reminded him, clearing her throat once she had finally got a hold on herself. She pulled back, keeping her eyes averted. She had never cried in front of anyone but family before and she felt awkward now that it was over. "And really, considering how bad it could have been, we could even consider ourselves lucky that he got this out of his system and I'm barely worse for wear."
"Barely worse for wear?" he repeated, sounding a little incredulous.
"Like you said, you could imagine him doing much worse in the same scenario, right?" she pointed out. "I'm sore, but I'm alive and with no permanent damage."
"Elizabeth," he's eyes flickered over her face. She didn't know how bad she looked, but from his reaction earlier and the way he seemed to wince slightly whenever he looked at the injury, she guessed it was probably bad. He pushed her hair away from her face again, being very careful not to touch her skin.
"Elizabeth," his face slipped from showing concern to deep concentration as if he was working out a particularly difficult puzzle. "Is there anything…?" he hesitated. "Did he do more than this?" His eyes swept over her face.
"Um," she stalled, but of course, stalling was an answer in itself.
"He kicked you, didn't he?" Darcy took a step back from her and looked down at the spot where Wickham had done just that, though it was still covered by her shirt. "Three times?"
"How do you know that?" she asked. She was shocked by his statement. How he could possibly have known of her injury?
"Let me see," he demanded, and then seemed to realize his tone would not be well received and amended it with, "please."
"Okay, but, just… don't freak out," she cautioned. "I just don't have the energy to argue with you. Although it may look bad, I don't need to go to the hospital or anything," he didn't say anything, so she stepped away from him. Gingerly, she pulled her shirt up enough so that her stomach and left side were exposed.
"Christ," he sucked in a breath. She looked down, twisting slightly to see how bad the damage was. Although it looked like one big bruise, there were three distinct black marks; one for each kick Wickham had delivered. Unlike her face, that probably looked worse than it felt, her side looked exactly as bad as it felt. She knew it would look worse after it had more time to settle, but, as it was now, she felt that the horrified look on Darcy's face was justified.
"Jesus, Elizabeth!" He reached out and barely touched the skin. Despite his gentle touch, she couldn't help but whimper and pull away. "We have to take you to the hospital. Even if your ribs aren't broken, you could have internal bleeding."
"This is what I was talking about," she said. She dropped her shirt and moved to the couch to sit, exhausted. "I'm not getting into a whole thing with you, and I'm not going to the hospital."
Darcy looked like he really, really wanted to argue. But instead, he weighed his options. Finally, he came to sit next to her on the couch, on her right side and put an arm around her shoulder.
"How did you know he had kicked me?" she asked again.
"It was just a guess," he replied in a distracted manner. She rolled her eyes, not believing this excuse for a second, but she decided to let it go for now.
"There's more bad news," she said with a sigh.
"More?" he questioned warily.
"Hand me my backpack, will you?" she instructed, pointing to the side of the door where it always sat.
He reached over to grab it. Once he handed it to her, she unzipped it and turned it over on the coffee table. Along with two books, a folder, and some pens, came a handful of baggies. It was a mixture of weed, crack, and some kind of pills.
"You're replacing me," Darcy commented after seeing what had spilled out of the bag.
"You catch on quick," she replied, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
"You're not even going to that school anymore," he pointed out, and she heard the noise he made as he sorted through her product.
"Yeah, I didn't really think it was wise to bring that up. Or say anything, really," she replied.
"That must have been very difficult for you." His tone was serious; her eyes flew open and she turned to gape at him. He stopped what he was doing to give her a small smile.
"Very funny," she attempted to scowl at him, but she laughed aloud instead. She felt herself relax slightly in his company even as she grasped her side in pain. Finally, she asked, "so, what are we going to do?"
"Well, the DNA results finally came back on that necklace," Darcy sobered. Lizzy felt her heart go into her throat. "The fingerprint matched Wickham, which is what Richard wanted to tell you today."
"Yes!" she said excitedly. "Yes! That's good news, right?"
"Yes," he smiled with as much relief as she was feeling. "The judge is going to sign the warrant for his arrest tomorrow. If we could get Younge to flip, it would be ideal, but at the very least we have enough to take him in."
"Good," she sighed, her relief intense. "That must be why he's acting so crazy," she told him about seeing him in JJ's club and trying to get a meeting with him.
"First thing tomorrow, we're picking him up," he shoved the bags of drugs back into her backpack, leaving out the books and papers. "Do you mind if I take this? I'll bring it back."
"The drugs or the backpack?" she asked. "Either way, I'll only need the backpack back."
"I meant I'd return the backpack," he clarified with a smile. "I hope you don't want these drugs back."
"Keep 'em," she stretched, and then rested a hand on her left side with a wince.
"You should go back to bed," he looked worried once more. He dropped the bag back by the door, and then stood to pull her up.
"You're leaving?" she asked, her need for sleep fighting with her desire to spend more time with him.
"No," he shook his head firmly. "I'm not leaving you alone until we go to pick Wickham up. I'll sleep on the couch."
"You're staying here?" she asked, surprised. She looked down at the couch, its fabric worn and its springs broken. It was also about a foot smaller than his tall frame. "I'm locked in, Darcy, I'll be fine."
"I want you to stay away from the windows too. You're high up, but that's no reason to take a chance," he instructed, totally ignoring her protests as he guided her down the hallway to her bedroom.
"Darcy, you cannot sleep on that couch," she told him firmly as they stepped into her room.
"If someone comes to the door, don't answer until I give you the all-clear," he understood that she did not want to fight with him; instead of arguing, he was simply ignoring her. "You have a bad habit of opening the door without looking to see who is there first."
"You will never get any sleep on that thing," she finally turned and put her hands on her hips to show she was serious. He sidestepped her and carefully closed her drapes, taking pains not to be seen in the window.
"I'm not leaving you alone," he said his voice broking no opposition.
"Well," she hesitated, then attempted her most casual and unaffected voice, "Look, just stay in here with me then," she felt herself blush and before he could even think of a reply, she also added, "it's not like we haven't shared a bed before."
She saw him glance at the bed. Mercifully, it was a queen. "Or I will sleep on the couch and you sleep in here," she crossed her arms, attempting to imitate his no-nonsense attitude.
"That's fine," he said finally. Before she could question which scenario he was agreeing with, he guided her to the bed and pulled the covers over her, then sat on the edge of the bed. "I have to call Richard and talk some things over with him."
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "If you go and sleep on that couch, I swear I'll-"
He chuckled, pushing her hair back and resting a hand on her neck for a moment. "I won't. Try to get some sleep," he caressed her neck with his thumb, and then he was up and out of the room.
She listened to the sound of his voice, although he was speaking too low for her to make out any actual words. His presence in her apartment was comforting. She found herself relaxing enough to get to the point of half-asleep awareness. She soon slipped fully unconscious, where the memories of the day's events combined with Darcy being near, made her dream of Wickham's arrest.
Everything was going according to plan when suddenly Wickham managed to get away from Darcy and come after her. She felt his hands on her neck, but this time, he squeezed down, the murderous look in his eye. Suddenly, he let go of her neck and grabbed onto her shoulder instead. It took a moment to realize she was being shaken awake. She first thought that Wickham was still beside her. She called out, striking him with flailing arms.
"It's alright, Elizabeth," said Darcy's warm voice, and that's all it took for her to remember where she was and what had happened.
"Sorry," she sat up and turned towards him. Sometime after she fell asleep, he had come to bed. She reached up to cup the side of his face. "Sorry," she repeated.
"It's alright," he assured her again. "Are you okay?"
"Just a bad dream," she murmured, her hand unconsciously going from his face to her neck. Would she ever forget the feeling of Wickham's hands around her throat?
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently. She shook her head, lying back down so she faced him. He followed suit.
"How's Richard?" she asked to distract herself.
"He's picking up the warrant first thing in the morning. He'll call when he has it," Darcy replied. This just reminded her of her dream, so she tried to think of other topics.
"Do you know Caroline?" she asked, the first thought to come to her head. Darcy looked surprised.
"Caroline Bingley?" he asked. She nodded. "She's Charles' sister."
"Did you two ever… date?" she asked. Again, he looked surprised, then an amused smile came to his face.
"No. Why do you ask?" he wanted to know, but by his expression, he already guessed the answer. She rolled her eyes.
"Shut up," she said, making him laugh.
"Did you and JJ ever date?" he asked after a moment, his face clear of any emotion.
"No," she replied, enjoying the look of relief that flashed over his face. "I mean, we kissed once."
"Oh," he frowned.
"We were like, fourteen or fifteen," she felt the need to explain, hoping the time interval would help. It didn't seem to, so she thought of another question. "Who was your first kiss?"
"JJ was yours?" he asked instead of answering.
"Well, yeah," she shrugged.
"I was sixteen," he said after a moment. "Her name was Susie," she didn't like the affectionate way he spoke the girl's name, but couldn't blame anyone but herself for asking.
"Longest relationship?" she asked next. He seemed to consider it.
"College. A girl named Bree. We were together for a year and a half," he replied, letting her absorb the facts before asking, "You?"
"Six months," she frowned. "But, even then it was kind of on and off. He was also my first boyfriend but…" she struggled to find the right words. "It wasn't a good relationship."
"How come?" he asked, his voice tinged with anger.
"He wasn't abusive or anything," she rolled her eyes at his reaction. "As if I would ever stay with someone like that," her self-assessment seemed to calm him. "We had fun together, and I liked him but… it took a while for me to realize he was only really interested in me if I showed any interest in someone else. We would hang out and he would call and answer my calls right away, but as time went by and he lost interest, I would think it was over. Then, I moved on, but when he heard about me going out with someone else, suddenly I was all he wanted."
"What did you do?" he asked.
"Eventually I realized it was never going to work. When the pattern started to repeat itself, I just ignored him and went out with someone else. We kind of tried to be friends but," she shrugged. "You know."
There was a long pause before she said, "Your turn."
"My turn?" he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"20 questions. I answered, then you did and then I went. Your turn," she clarified.
"Oh." His face showed concentration as he wondered what to ask her. "Favorite book?"
"Nerd," she teased. "Hard to say. Probably Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy."
"Good one," he approved.
"Favorite book?" she asked.
"The Great Gatsby," he replied.
"Really?" She smiled. "You wouldn't happen to relate to the protagonist, would you?"
"Gatsby?" he seemed surprised. "The energetic party boy?" he said with sarcasm.
"I guess not," she saw his point.
They continued from there. Some questions were asked humorously – Most embarrassing moment? – Some hesitantly – Ever cheated, or been cheated on? – and some sparked discussions rather than one-worded answers.
"No," she shook her head. "No way, I don't believe it."
"It's true," he laughed. "I did it and I got caught."
"You stole something?" she asked, incredulous.
"I was ten," he nodded, beginning his story, "and I had this friend who was two years older than me. Everyone was making such a big fuss over the new baby- my sister Georgiana, whom for the record I love, but at the time I was feeling a little bit left out. So I went over to Rodger's house, and we rode our bikes to the store. He dared me to do it, and… I did."
"What did you steal?" she asked.
"A basketball," he said sheepishly. "Not the easiest thing to conceal. I tried to convince the manager that I brought it in with me."
"Smooth," she giggled.
"He called my parents, and I was let off with a warning," Darcy finished. "I was never allowed to see Rodger, of course, but he ran out when I got caught anyway, so I didn't really care."
"Rat!" She scoffed at the boy who ditched his friend.
Eventually, the night caught up with them. Somewhere between asking what his favorite meal was and listening to him describe a dish his housekeeper made every Christmas, she fell asleep.
She was awoken the next morning by a phone ringing. "Is that Richard?" she asked sleepily.
"No," his voice rumbled closer to her ear than she expected. "It's yours," he reached over her, his body pressing into her for a moment as he took her phone off the side table and handed it to her, then laid back down and closed his eyes.
"Cathy," Lizzy yawned. "What's up?"
"You remember that guy you told us to say away from?" Cathy asked without preamble.
"No," she turned back towards Darcy, laying her head on his arm and wishing for more sleep. "Who?" Darcy moved his arm to allow her to shift closer and then ran his hand lazily up and down her right side.
"The one at the club; you said he was dangerous?" Her brain finally caught up with what her sister was saying and Lizzy shot up, her heart pounding.
"Wickham?" she practically yelled into the phone. Darcy was up beside her even before her strangled question. "What about him?"
"Well, I went to drop Lydia off at work, and she told me she didn't need a ride home. I was getting a smoothie next door and I saw her get into a car with him." Cathy explained, sounding nervous. "She's not answering my texts or calls."
"Where?" Lizzy kicked off the sheets and stood, then grabbed her side in pain and sat back down as her ribs protested the movement. "When?"
"Just now. At the Coffee Central where she works." Cathy replied. "Is she going to be okay? I should have stopped her, shouldn't I?"
"She wouldn't have listened," she took a moment to reassure her sister. "I'm going to find her, okay? Don't tell mom what happened, I'll text you later," she didn't wait to hear an answer.
"What happened?" Darcy demanded once she had put her cell down.
"Wickham has my sister," Lizzy turned to him with panic in her eyes.