ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sᴘɪᴅᴇʀ (anotherwidow) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-09-01 23:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, will graham, yelena belova |
WHO: Yelena Belova & Will Graham
WHEN: [backdated] during the plot
WHAT: [WHAT IF] Yelena is a serial killer and there’s a new murder family (Parts III & IV)
STATUS: Completed
WARNINGS: The usual ones about blood, violence, with allusions to trafficking and sexual abuse. (Also, gifs under the cut.)
The other investigators attempting to collect evidence they could help with, Will pulled out his phone. He stared a moment at it. The last they spoke, she had left him suddenly and with a cryptic message that he could only assume was about Abigail, but that was not possible. Hannibal needed him disposed of and he would have done what was necessary. Still, he had looked into the coordinates, a house on the cliffside. Typing in Yelena’s number, he waited for her to answer.
“Just tell me one thing. Are these yours?” He asked just as cryptically, the sounds of the investigation beyond him easily picked up on his phone. Investigators of any kind tended to be loud while at work.
After the first three days, doubt started to trickle in. What if he tossed her number? What if he sent the FBI after her? What if he let something slip and Lecter came after her? She had no intentions of being a victim of the Chesapeake Ripper.
To be extra careful and not draw unwanted attention to herself, she put a pause on the killing. The media still hadn’t said anything about her last kill. The police could be keeping a lid on it for some reason, but she doubted it. More likely they simply haven’t found him yet. A local dirty politician who had vile opinions on the reproductive rights of women and sexual assault, all the while he harassed and sexually assaulted his female interns and staffers.
When the call finally came, she was nearly as giddy as a schoolgirl. She picked up without a word and listened to his question. In the background, it was easy to surmise where he was and what he was doing. It occurred to him that he could have told his FBI handlers and they could be listening in, but she hoped it wasn’t the case. Either way, she would be keeping the conversation short to avoid attempts to geolocate.
“Yes,” she breathed, a simple affirmation.
“What do you say?”
His mention of the cliffs told her that he at least looked up the coordinates. When she had first found out about Lecter’s second house, she’d driven out there cautiously to scout the area. It was during one of these trips that, through the large glass windows, she had gotten visual confirmation of Abigail Hobbs still alive.
“We’ll have ourselves a late night drink.”
With that he left for Quantico to meet them back where he was expected until he had time to freely move around without Jake’s or Hannibal’s eyes on him.
They would likely be taking her vehicle, since she assumed Will’s would be too easily recognizable to occupants of the cliff house. Her cache of weapons and tools were locked away in the hidden compartment custom-built into the bed of her Chevy. She was armed to the teeth and yet she’s never felt more naked. She’d sought understanding, like she told Will, and now it felt strange to be known.
She brought her dog with her again tonight, though she would be asking to leave her behind at Will’s house. As she pulled up and parked, she heard the chorus of barking from inside the house.
"Whatever this is that we're going to do. If it's true, I'm going to need to know how you know. And if this is a ploy because I didn't help you with your brother, you better kill me in my sleep tonight because I'm not entirely sure what I will do." This would be her only warning of what he was truly capable of now that Hannibal had pushed him.
"Would you like a whiskey?" He held open the door for everyone to re-enter the house.
Yelena waited until she was safely indoors before saying more. “And whatever happens tonight and tomorrow, killing you in your sleep is not on my to-do list. Killing you at all is not on my to-do list.” Where would she be for her much desired understanding then? She cocked her head. “Am I on yours?”
Taking a seat, he gestured to the other more comfortable chair.
Accepting her glass of whiskey, she took a sniff, before having a testing sip. She settled back comfortably into the chair he indicated. “Never played with the handcuffs yourself?” she asked, with a coy little smirk in return.
She took another sip of the whiskey. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. You can ask me anything you want. About the house on the cliff or whatever else you’re curious about. I’m an open book to you tonight.” She would mostly be anyway, if half of what she’s read and heard about Will Graham’s abilities could be believed.
Looking her over, gaze glancing from her face to her feet and how she positioned herself in her stealth outfit. “Why haven’t you killed your brother? The chain of missing or dead fortune heirs, they represent your brother and yet he continues to give you scars. Why?”
His tone was casual. Will did not want to know more about the house on the cliffs. He could already guess a lot of things and what he did not know he wished to see for himself first. She could say a lot of things but until he knew what she said was the truth he was not about to make a move. He did not want to compromise his plans to capture Hannibal by reacting before thinking.
“The people that… gave me to the Vergers, they provided them with a way of control. A pheromonal lock that prevents me from hurting the Verger heir. So, as long as I can smell Mason, I can’t even punch him in his creepy smug face let alone kill him.” She took a sip of whiskey. “And before you ask, no, holding my breath isn’t going to do the trick.”
She looked down at her hands, neatly French-manicured and smooth-skinned. Hardly what one might think of as the hands of a killer. “Then there’s the pesky financial aspect. Our father left a very specific set of instructions in his will with regards to the Verger family fortune. If Mason dies without a male heir, the entirety of our holdings go to the Southern Baptist Church. I lose everything.”
Will did not like the idea of people being forced to stay in a situation that they wished to get out of. They were all victims of the expectation of others. Even locked away for the possible murder of several people, Jack had brought him out because he was a useful toy- broken but too good to pass up. Will was not sure he even cared whether or not Jack got out of his own plan alive.
“Sometimes taking your life back is the only thing you can control. It’s better to live in poverty and happy than under the thumb of others who treat you like a toy.”
“Speaking of those who treat me like a toy,” she said, cocking her head and looking at him in genuine curiosity. “You don’t. All this time, you haven’t made a single pass at me. The last time I was here, I had my shirt off, and you didn’t try to sneak a look. They always look.” She smiled. “I’m not saying it because I’m full of myself. It’s just a fact. Do you… not like women or…?”
Of course, merely liking women was obviously not the end all be all of his sexuality. Straight would be too narrow and bi would be limiting in his mind. It has nothing to do with their bodies, even though attractiveness was a plus, but it was the mind behind the eyes. It was how he connected to them in more than a physical manner. But no, he kept his answer simple.
"I had my shirt off too," he teased sarcastically. "But you did look, so that's not really a comparison."
“And now that you have your confirmation, that shouldn’t be a distraction anymore, should it?”
"No," he said slowly. "It's not a distraction anymore." That did not change the caution in his tone even if his body language stayed more relaxed than anything.
She finished her drink and set the empty glass aside. Yelena slowly rose from her seat. Showing her hands to let him know she wasn’t about to pull any fast ones, she began to disarm herself, pulling out the various weapons she had hidden on her person and placing them aside one after the other. It would have been almost comical where everything was kept without anyone being any the wiser. When she was fully disarmed, that was when she approached him again. She figured he would bristle at it regardless, but she took a seat on the arm of Will’s chair, looking down at him.
“You don’t know if you can trust me, so there’s little point for me to say ‘trust me’ but I would like you to not have to worry about being getting stabbed in the back tomorrow. Or killed in your sleep tonight. They call me the Black Widow Killer, not a Praying Mantis.”
She reached out to gently play with the curls at the base of his neck.
“Nothing I can do to be more reassuring? Put you more at ease?”
There was a small shift away from the arm of the chair when she approached and sat down. "I'm not entirely worried about those. I've been stabbed in the back enough by closer people."
He licked his lips, a smirk played there as his eyes closed momentarily. "You don't have to do anything. I'm not here to be bought and whatever your desire was to give me this information… that is for you to make the decision when you need to."
Will Graham was a tough nut to crack. But that was also just it. He wasn’t one to crack. He didn’t want to be figured out. Her trying to do so would likely only make him retreat further into his defenses, like a turtle going into its shell.
“I’m not here to buy you,” she said. “I’ll admit, I thought about it at first. A trade, in exchange for your help with Mason, but you’re right. Taking back my life is the only thing I can control, so I should take care of it on my own. Giving you this information is…”
She didn’t like the idea of a young girl being used as a pawn in the machinations of men, for one. And for another, she liked the idea of Dr. Lecter having one less thing held over Will’s head. This last part she would tell him so honestly.
“It takes away our psychiatrist’s leverage.”
Anything more meaningful than that would delve into the details she couldn’t get into because it would be touching on the difficult to believe again. If he’s figured out what she wanted to share, that was one thing, but she wasn’t about to give voice to any promises. She didn’t want to jinx it, if she believed in that kind of thing.
Will scoffed again at her statement. It would be a very good reason to lead him to some further truths or evidence against Hannibal. "He has more leverage than you might think- against all of us."
Lifting his hand, he swept his fingers over her cheek. The arm rest did not give her much more height over him, given her own height. The whiskey was warm and the previous week's activities had him in a kind of daze over what exactly he was capable of.
There was a deep acceptance that others sought him out purely for his ability to connect, to understand, and know them. It wasn't their fault, humans had the hardest time connecting as it was. All anyone wanted was to be accepted as they were.
She wondered if he might not know and was simply curious waiting to see how things would play out. If all the mulling over would create doubts and fears that would cause them to trip up and lead to their own destruction. Lecter was a tough genius of a bastard. His reach appeared wide, and his influence insidious.
All things creeping through her mind as the slightest intake of breath occurred at Will’s consent. If you want it… Then... Yelena would have pondered if she might have heard him wrong or misunderstood his meaning, except for the hand that moved to touch her side, soon followed by the stroke of her cheek. This time, her shiver was one of pleasure at contact. Human touch, when wanted, was different.
She bent down to press her lips to Will’s. The hand that had been playing with his hair, at the base of his neck, cradled his head, deepening the kiss. Slowly, she let herself slide sideways off the arm of the chair, carefully into his lap. There was the tiniest awareness that just because she disarmed herself, he might not have. He could be Lecter’s boy and be the one to stab her in the back. She hoped it wasn’t the case, but the possibility was there and less than nil. Still, all for the chance at connection, she was willing to play the odds and run that risk.
Dressed in his typical clothes, Will would head into this not in some covert way but nothing more than the monster Hannibal fed until it came out. His gun at his hip and a knife hidden in his waist band, Will stared out the window in silence as they drove out to the house on the cliff.
He was curious to see, curious to know what he would do if things were what Yelena said they were.
The release and boost of neurotransmitters like dopamine and endorphins left her content and she woke feeling well-rested for the first time in a long time, but she accepted that to be chemical. Any sense of connection and trust fostered by their evening together was thanks to oxytocin, until she could earn her trust through confirmation of her word.
She did the driving, though she once again telegraphed every move she made. Like entering the coordinates into the GPS. She was driving him to the house on the cliff, not the middle of the woods, like all her victims ended up. Of course, the convenience of the cliff was also perhaps a suitable place to deposit bodies, but that was not her design and he would know that. Yelena was the one who took down the security measures of the house, having had the time to do prior reconnaissance on the property and study the security system. Of course since this was Hannibal Lecter’s place, if she had to guess, there could be custom backup measures inside. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any immediate Temple of Doom style traps sprung when they entered.
A quick sweep of the house showed her they appeared to be alone. In one of the back bedrooms on the ground floor, she located what they came for. She holstered her gun and called over her shoulder. “Will?”
Hearing Yelena call, he made his way to her. Stepping to look over her shoulder, the harsh bite he had carried in him melted at the sight of Abigail hooked up to an IV, passed out on a guest bedroom bed. His gaze focused as he ran over to her, unhooking her from whatever drug he had her hooked up to to keep her passive while he was gone. The focused look became distant as he smoothed back her hair and checked her over for injuries. His mind going elsewhere as he stared into the middle distance.
“Yelena… You need to take her. Far away from here as quickly as possible.”
Will had a plan. The attack to come played out in his head. Hannibal would smell him as soon as he walked in, him and Yelena which would put him on the defensive. Hannibal was stronger than him, he knew that enough, but if he got the attack first then he had a higher likelihood to make it out alive. Did he need to make it out alive? Not necessary, but Hannibal would pay for keeping this from him, for making him think he had taken her away from him, eaten her.
As heavily armed as she was, it was in anticipation of a rescue and a fight. She didn’t want to leave him to face these demons alone, but she took one look at the seriousness and resolve on his face and knew better than to argue. She remembered what he told her about taking back control.
“I promise to look after her. If you promise to look after yourself.” She stepped up close and reached for him to a sneak a parting kiss, finding herself silently praying to the gods of life and death that he survived this. “She needs you. You can go anywhere after this, I’ll make sure of it. Budapest, Morocco, Cuba…” No extradition in Cuba, she thought.
Once the girls were out of the house, Will went about setting up his design. His focus a blur of anger that had overtook his relief. All of this needed to end and end by his own hand- just like Hannibal knew he would.
The house was dark as Hannibal pulled into the driveway, the cautious man moving as soon as he was out of the car as if he knew something was amiss. From outside the only thing that could be seen was the flash of a gun going off- Will shooting him in the leg to make sure Hannibal did not have the advantage in the fight. The fight went from kitchen to living room, in front of the large bay windows. Both men bloody, Will stabbed Hannibal in the neck before twisting the knife and pulling it back out. Blood spurt everywhere.
In a daze, Will stumbled out of the house onto the cement patio and collapsed.
Driving until she was out of sight of the main road of the house, Yelena turned off the engine and waited. Will told her to get far away, but she couldn’t leave him behind, however things would turn out. From her vantage point, she could peek out of the tree line and see the house, if she used her binoculars. She saw the muzzle flash. She saw the ensuing fight of the two men moving through the house. It wasn’t until she saw the figure stumble out and keel over that she reacted.
It was Will. She knew it was.
Jumping back into the truck, she drove back to the house and jumped out, gun still holstered at her hip just in case. “Will!” She rushed to his side. He was covered in blood and she could only hope most of it wasn’t his own. “Will…”
Everything in his mind regretted what he had done. But it had been necessary. But it still hurt his soul more than he thought it would. He thought he would be relieved at Hannibal's death, but a part of him felt lost instead. He shouldn't have just left the body, at the vet least, he needed to honor the death.
"I- need to stay and honor of the body," he murmured, though it was difficult to hold onto consciousness.
“Okay,” she said quietly. She spared a glance towards the truck. Abigail was still out like a light. “Do what you feel you have to do.”
Yelena helped Will into the passenger side of her truck with his quickly waning energy. Whatever he wanted to do would have to wait. At least until he regained consciousness. Which gave her enough time to make the preparations they needed for after.
Mason was dead. Will wasn’t there for that. But he was right, accidents do happen on a pig farm, but not before Mason had been persuaded to make an amendment to his own will to off-set the stipulations of their father’s will and backdate it. Nothing suspicious about his untimely demise, of course not.
Will had a boat. That was useful. No one would expect Yelena Verger to travel this way. But Yelena Belova would. At least that’s what her travel documents would read. It wouldn’t take long to set things up. She’d been planning to run for some time now, if the day ever came. She had friends in surprisingly low places and Rick Mason was one of them. Black market art dealers had ways of smuggling things in and out of countries. Smuggling three people as if they were accompanying that art was doable for him.
The house was ready for them. A place with a beautiful sun room that could easily be made over for music for Abigail. For dance for Yelena. A space for Will to tinker. A spacious kitchen and dining room for meals.
The cooking wasn’t fine dining and it wasn’t lavish in presentation, but it was hearty and devoid of blood and darkness.
It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t happily ever after, but they were alive. And they were free.