maskormenacelogs | Where I Come From, We Believe All Sorts Of Things That Aren't True

Will was watching. Reading. It was why he'd holed up in their room in the first place. He hadn't quite made it to the bathroom. The bed was made, and when he spotted a napping dog in the middle, well. Seemed as good a place as any to watch what others might have considered meant for some semblance of privacy.

He sets the device down, one hand ruffling floppy ears. Had to happen eventually. Should've happened earlier, really. Shame on him. Maybe he could pretend to nap. Or pretend to nap as a dog! No, no. No need for more shame.

He is comfortably laid out by the time those footsteps reach the door. When April opens it, she'll find him half-curled around the snoozing dog. The snoozing dog with its furry butt mere inches from Will's face. Casual, relaxed, calm. Hopefully there won't be a storm to weather through, but if there is, at least it's following the laws of nature.

"Hey."

Super. Casual.

"The dogs aren't shields, Will."

She's not even all the way in the room yet. She folds her arms, leaning against the doorway with the door still open. What's left of the household (Jeff) perfectly able to hear so far.

"Don't give him more issues."

Slowly, he puts an elbow out to prop himself up. Loosely closed fist goes to rest against his cheek. This could be an artistic pose if not for his companion.

"Who, Rincewind?" The laugh never quite manifests, but it's on his face when he shakes his head. "I haven't done anything to him."

The last two words being the most important part. Perhaps he'd be sending Dorian a message later. Not only did Chilton know and had known for a while, April knew too. Invite the next move, if there was one.

"The dog, babe. They're neurotic enough."

April finally shoves off the door to gently shove at the mutt, ignoring the pitiful but why, mom? look. It was time to head out. The raccoons can close the door behind him.

"But. He said to ask you."

Will watches the dog sulk off the same way someone appreciating a great booty for the last time tends to watch said booty. Longing, already missing, wishing it could only turn around and come right back. The sort of pitiful glance that lingers a few seconds after they're completely gone.

"Course he did." Finally looking back up at April, he rolls more on his side and puts one hand out as obvious invitation. Not that April ever needed one; hers was open. "It'sssssss...a story. You got a half hour to spare?"

"Oh, god. It wasn't just you hitting on him, was it."

She takes the invitation though, her butt hitting the bed hard enough to bounce Will a little. She loved him. She loved him. But with Will, 'a story' could mean he found a dog on the side of the highway or he'd been hunting down a serial killer and, funny story, they all needed to pack up and leave now. Also Fred would be coming.

Basically, there was a pretty damn wide range of how this could go.

A bounce he embraces as much as he embraces everything else about April. His hand moves to rest on her leg, which he looks at for a moment as his lips twist down. It's not a frown. It's just one of Those Things that is certainly not pleasant and trying to word The Thing certainly isn't easy.

"'Bout a year ago, there was a finger left in the mailbox at the bait shop." Wait, not clear. "In a package, not just. A finger dropped off. All it said was To Will Graham."

The hand leaves her leg to gesture outward. Yep, that happened.

"Fast forward a month, can't find any leads. Then there's a new package. With a toe this time and some note about bringing friends and that I'm not useful if I'm dead...signed a guardian angel. No more for a while after that. Still didn't know who it was. Til our Russian friends did their—" he doesn't finish that. April knows best of the two in this room right now what those cold-loving bastards did. "—received a cow heart and a bunch of blood. Enough was enough. I wrote back. Encouraged a line of communication. Come to find out it was Dorian."

There's no gasp. There's no treating this twist of events as sensitive or horrifying. He sounds quite flat about it, actually, the delivery more like historical fact than something he went through personally. Good to stay distanced, right?

"First..."

She shoves his shoulder, hard. Not picking out an injured one or a meaningful scar or any of that symbolic bullshit. April isn't here for hidden meanings or to send secret signals. Will pissed her off, and he was getting shoved for it. Straight and simple.

"A year ago? A year and you don't tell me? Do you know- you know it's not always just people messing around with that. We have animals to look out for."

He takes the shove like a champ. Just absorbs it and rolls a bit, makes no noise of protest, shows no signs of what was that for or deeply felt pain. The most he does is roll back, shifting down the bed slightly. Makes it easier to look up at April in a properly chided way.

"And the animals are..." Sometimes he attempts to be an absolutely normal guy. Like now. Except he realizes that nothing is hurt so keeping silent, keeping things to myself, is totally fine is a stupid, insulting assertion. So it fades quickly on a sigh. "I really didn't."

Another dead in the water attempt.

"I'm sorry."

He can't even argue Dorian being behind it all prevented any communication; Dorian had been screwing with him for months. Apologies, rare as they are from him, it is.

"Sorry."

April doesn't follow him down across his small shift, staying firmly where she is, in shoving but not holding range. Sorry. He's sorry. Like when he went to Crane, sorry.

Would you have stopped me? Not the exact question he'd asked then, but she wondered if it was the same now. Ask for forgiveness when caught, not keep her up to date on something she might not approve of.

She turned to look out the window- or just stare at it, really, not even noticing if the blind is down or not. She isn't a master liar, can't lock down her expressions all the way even against normal people, never mind the FBI's best. Best it isn't a fit of anger this time. Just...flat. Disappointed.

"Yeah. Sure."

Ah, disappointment. A very familiar emotion for Will to pull out of people; even so, it never had felt good to drum up that particular feeling. First it just seemed natural, in small doses, that he wouldn't be what people wanted. Anything past small doses, anything he could have prevented, that really stung. Stings now. Far more than any physical blow, it's the raw tell that he's let her down. Again.

He pulls that hand back, limply curling around his stomach, eyes still on April. The apology is out there. Saying it again isn't in the cards.

"You want me to sleep on the couch tonight?" Or the dog house. Or the floor in the Abigail shrine. Or outside in a box. "Couple nights."

"What do you want, Will?"

She scrubs one hand against her face. Any other time, any other person but the guy she picked to marry? She'd be out. Shrug, she doesn't care, whatever. Do what you want, it doesn't hurt her. Nothing does.

But the one person she'd picked to see it all through with? Well. He gets at least five minutes of talking before she's gone.

"Because I don't know- I just. I don't. I don't get what you're doing. Here."

Oh no.

Will pushes himself up, half-leaning half-sitting, propped up by one hand out. The other points to the bed between them. Head tilted, eyebrow raised, he asks something he never thought he would. Perhaps his tone sounds a little dumb, but he feels struck deaf dumb and blind as it is.

"Don't get what I'm doing here with you?"

"Don't-"

She waves a hand helplessly, trying to communicate this. Sex and pushing and leaving, or at least sarcasm. That was an easy way to talk. This took...thinking. Careful selection of each word, struggling along.

"We've done this before, Will. This exact- I can't just do half married. I can't only get the approved for general audiences version of...of our life."

He'd known all along, of course, that he should have been telling April something. Dorian's repeated mentions of her not knowing had always nagged at him; last time, he was totally going to do it. Then he didn't, and the Porter snagged him—but was it convenient timing or a statement he'd been intent to keep that side project to himself? Maybe he should talk to a psychiatrist about this stuff.

He's quiet, jaw clenched. The part of him that thinks throwing in the towel might benefit both of them is immediately overtaken by the part that remembers a little something in his personal freezer at the bait shop. Abruptly, he rolls off the bed and leans forward to pull his shoes to him. For a second it looks like he's just going to take his hat and go.

"We're going to the shop." Take his hat and go, but not alone. She would only have to see the stupid joke shirts as long as it took to walk in and out. "I've got something to show you."

She has a very good point. There's nothing he can do to change the past.

He can, however, live up to that apology by presently expressing how important a future with April in it is. By...well, she'll see.

Edited 2016-08-10 22:06 (UTC)

She searches his face for a long moment, long enough it's possible she may just decide, no. No she's not going on Will Graham's apology tour. But eventually she stands, snapping her fingers as she follows to indicate this will be a raccoon free trip. The adults have things to talk about without worrying what the kids think.

It's a silent trip, though. Unless Will tries to make conversation. She'd said her part. Apparently they had to get to the shop for Will to say his.

Silent trips are great. Just fine with him. He doesn't even bother with the radio or anything, no, all that matters is getting where they're going. Frustrating drivers do not warrant speech. He throws out some looks that could set wet sheets on fire, but no verbal assault follows.

He unlocks the shop door, locks it behind them, and ignores the light nearby. So April can be bothered by those stupid punny shirts and hat if she squints and looks very carefully. Their mission involves going into the bug room, however. There is that to be disgusted by. But not for long. Will passes through chirps, low lighting, and musky scent, and April will likely enjoy this room more. Small, yes, but there are no bugs anywhere. Looks like it's just used for additional storage space. And a freezer. One that's not only humming quietly, but bearing a lock. Klondike Bars are serious business.

The key ring comes back out, the dull, hanging, overhead light flicks on. Off comes the padlock, carelessly hung on his front pocket. The lid lifts and, at first, there's nothing too interesting. April can look into find what appears to be a bunch of frozen bug food. Presumably. It's squiggly and small, seems like the sort of weird doomed fish food would partake of.

Will starts pulling the bags of bug stuff out, dropping them to the floor without concern. After the third "top" layer is done away with, the freezer scene is...different.

"They're all Dorian's." A wave of his hand over a veritable buffet of carefully preserved organs. "I've been meaning to dispose them for a while, and...they're still here. What should we do with them?"

We.

He wants April's input. April has the ability to control any organ actions taken from here on out. It's as naturally and calmly offered as condiments over lunch.

It's been a long, long time since April stood in New York City Hall with Eddie and threw herself against the door, trying to escape the sight of a human heart in a box, of her friend's heart. Years and public executions and too many deaths among friends to count.

April said a lot of shit over the network, but it was the little moments like these where some of them rang true. There was no going home. She barely even knew that April anymore.

So she doesn't run, doesn't turn on her heel or call for the police. She just looks down at the bags and bags of organs.

Apparently she missed some of the story between 'it was Dorian' and 'sorry.'

"Why are they here?"

Will leans against the freezer, ankles crossed and hands loosely curled around the edge. Like a freezer full of human body parts is just as normal as one full of ice cream. He's keeping a careful eye on April, however relaxed he may seem. This is...a lot. He knows. But he's been keeping a lot from her and it's time to rectify that. She can make her own decisions after.

"Dorian had been treating me as a project, said he got the idea from Chilton." Ooh, dropping that title, cold's gone straight through him. "Got me to cut his heart out before he showed his hand. So then we had a fresh heart. We sent it to Chilton. Sent him something else later. He knows now, who sent it all. He was upset I lied to him. These are here because I got to Dorian before anyone could tell him Chilton found us out."

They're here because a bunch of guys are being dicks to each other, basically.

She looks up from the freezer at that last line, jolted a little. There's no good way to twist that last part, no what a funny joke. He got to Dorian before Dorian knew the game was over. Pulled out what he could just...because. Like he said, he had no real plan with what to do with them now.

The Disney version of the Graham-Ludgate home was definitely done now.

"Will, that's how. Some why. But...why. Why get to Dorian before he knew?"

Hands tighten around the edge; when he looks down at the neatly packaged set of lungs, there is no real expression on his face. Just a hardened sort of acceptance. No regret, no disgust, no horror. His voice is the same.

"Couldn't make him suffer if he knew."

If he knew, he wouldn't have let Will in under the idea of taking one more organ. If Will couldn't have gotten in like it was just Their Thing, he wouldn't have been able to get the maximum horror and pain out of Dorian. Not without taking drastic measures. But that all boils down to making Dorian suffer, with or without Chilton's approval of the idea, and April deserves simple honesty instead of layers of metaphorical bullshit covering it like a veil. Just the plain, simple, unstable truth.

"Oh my god, Will-"

She turns away from the freezer at that. Paces to the door of the bug room, almost all the way out into the store proper, then turns back. She only paces halfway back though, the angle all wrong to be able to see in the freezer anymore. April could pretend it was just fish food again. Could close the lid and demand to go back to the life she said she didn't want. PG marriage, all adopted dogs and kids and Fred being wrong about everything.

Yeah, right.

"We've had him at the house. I had him over, while you were gone. He...he helped and you just...just hated him? The whole time?"

Should he shut the lid? Show some sort of...what? That he'd also be comfortable pretending there isn't a freezer full of human parts thanks to his actions, that this can just be forgotten? No. No it can't. Even if it's the last time Will does something extremely abnormal and therefore brutally violent, there's no forgetting this. Keeping an eye on April's reactions is more important now anyway. And staying in place unless otherwise called for; last thing either of them need is a physical rejection.

"I don't hate him." Not reassuring, but still: they're on the truthful track. No getting off this train. "I couldn't let him feel like he got away with what he'd done. Making us even again. That's all."

"A thing he started because Fred told him to."

She might be taking it wrong, a step too far, but she's far too happy to apply more blame than might be due on the shoulders of Chilton. Dorian...Dorian would be hearing things about stupid frigging jokes. But he was immortal. Ish. Cutting off body parts may be weird, but she needed to use a different ruler when measuring that with him.

Fred was just the worst.

"Yes and no." Hadn't April and Chilton just made up, sort of? That's good. Will should encourage that. Not another bridge burning party. Even if he was growing more aggravated at Chilton as the seconds wore on, a house feud would solve nothing. "He made the suggestion for a project. Dorian was the one who chose me for it, specifically. Chose me as a means to piss off Fred, actually. It worked."

Fred was pissed off. In ways Dorian might not have predicted, but pissed off just the same. They had yet to address how this played into Rincewind, though that was possibly an obvious thing at this point. Still, the rabbit hole went deeper, and this was all or nothing. No halfises. Will would rather their marriage hit a breaking point due to the full truth of things than refusing to even try sharing that much.

"Dorian gave me access to his portrait a while back, too. He doesn't know I've moved it."

"Why?"

Organs, petty vengeance, portraits. April understood good practical jokes. Crying, occasional arrests, fire. All good fun. But all of this...so many months and so much blood. All for...nothing, so far as she could see. Amazing, in a sense. Art didn't need a reason, it just was. But she wasn't sure that was what was happening here.

"Will, what's the point? Of all of this."

Blank. He's absolutely blank for a few seconds, as if such a question has never occurred to him and now that April asked it, he was drawing up just that: blank. It was in his nature. This was what Fate had decided was going to happen and so he let it happen. Dorian started it. He had been so pissed off between the whole murder thing and Dorian's screwing with him that he felt it finally time to lash back out at Chilton. It was just how things were for Baltimore.

Finally, he raises a hand. His face screws up to match the shrug.

"I'm good at it."

She licks her lips slowly, almost nods then aborts the movement. She can't just agree, like that makes sense. Like any of this makes sense. Like Will did.

"That's it?"

More than just his answer. Was that it to the story? To what Will's been hiding? Was there another freezer under this freezer with a whole different person's parts? There was no point wading in slow. April's always been about diving into the deep end and hoping she wouldn't be the one that got hurt.

He steps off. Just a step, slowly, every part of him in clear view. If April was somehow hurt this evening, Will would not be the cause of it. Physically, anyway. He was doing his best to show off that with body language without spending more time thinking about it. His hand moved to gesture to the freezer again.

"This? This thing, crazy sons of bitches, they're gonna find me. Because I know them. I see them, understand them. Other people can't. Not like I can. I have a knack for..."

His hand all but swats at the freezer before running through his hair.

"...this. I'm good at it. So it comes for me. I don't have to look for crazy shit, crazy shit finds me. And I answer it. Otherwise I'd've been dead a long time ago. It's—it's a cycle."

"No, babe. You don't have to answer it."

No one had to do anything. They were superhumans, they had to do even less. There were fucked up people, but between the two of them April was pretty sure they could scare off pretty much anyone. But...

She looked at the freezer again, arms coming up to wrap tightly around her chest, hands in her armpits. Psych 101 displays of defensiveness and uncertainty.

"But Fred's right. You want to."

Two words Will had never imagined he'd hear unless they were meant sarcastically seemed to hit him like cymbals right next to his ears. April agreed with Chilton on something. Something that had to do with Will. Tonight was just new territory all over. And it's Will's turn to not hide the honest expression on his face. He can't. He's too surprised. Too surprised to say anything for a bit, too.

Eventually, he leans down to pick up the bags and put them back on top. Guess they're not doing anything with the container of organs tonight.

"Now what?"

"I don't know."

April just stands back, watching as he repacked. The surprise was fair, they weren't words she'd ever expected to say. Ones she'd never, ever say to the man himself, not if her life depended on it.

She didn't know what now. But she had the horrible feeling it was going to depend on a little more talking. If only he'd just cheated on her or something. That would've been a thing they could have screwed away.

"Why didn't you tell me, Will? Before. Really."

Thunk. Thunk. Secrets being covered back up underneath layers of fishing-related bits and bobs. That's normal, at least. Thunk. He reaches for another. He stops, shoulders tensing.

"Didn't know what to say. Then it became. It barrelled. Got bigger." His hands move over each other, snowball without the snow. "I'd resolve to tell you and then I wouldn't."

Not really a fair answer, is it? He goes back to re-secreting. Helps make the mumble even more difficult to hear.

"Guess I was afraid of you seeing this side of me."

"What'd you think I'd do?"

Lingering, right where the crickets used to be. Easy enough to close her eyes and imagine that first trip into the bug room. The creepy crawlies and how her only thoughts where how to torment people with them- when tormenting was limited to just being annoying. When only people she didn't know sent organs to each other....

But she'd always been the one pointing out villains were more interesting. Hadn't she.

Thunk.

Will turns around, a lopsided attempt at a smile greeting her. He needed a certain softness and he wouldn't get it by keeping his distance. His steps were quick and confident this time, moving to take a careful hold of her face. Roughened fingers against cheeks and in hair that meant to hold, to keep her attention, nothing else.

"You wouldn't encourage me. Not to do this. Not as far as it's gone." Maintaining eye contact as much as she'll let him? Damn right. "You can be mean sometimes, April. But even at your worst, this isn't...this isn't really up your alley."

None of which is an insult or a commentary about how April is somehow lesser. Just the opposite. A moral compass was to be valued. The ability to look at this sort of wrong and react to it as such instead of recognize it and keep going. He speaks with fondness. Envy, almost. These are praising observations.

"You'd've been reasonable. More than me. More than any of us. And acted on that."

"Doesn't sound like something to be afraid of, babe."

She closed her eyes against him, even as her hands came up to wrap around his wrists. Loosely, not prying his hands away from her face. Just resting there, feeling his pulse with her thumbs. Not even noticing she was still using the term of endearment.

"That's more like a hope. Unless...I don't know. You hated the idea of stopping that much, I guess."

She'd find a calm, even pulse waiting for her. Despite the surge of emotions and unspoken worry this would result in the beginning of the end, his heart beat like usual. Freaking out could wait for later. Now he was just going to lean against her, hoping this wouldn't be, yes, the beginning of the end. Understandable if so. But he'd really prefer not.

"When you say it like that..." Mean sometimes, sharp as a tack most times. Delivered in her voice, though, it's far more gutting. He could argue it was a bit of both, and there was truth to that, sure. But overall...yes. The idea of stopping wasn't one he enjoyed. Just because being stopped because April knew, because she saw him differently, was the ultimate way to be stopped, and a fear, didn't soften anything. Maybe made it worse. "All this stops now, doesn't it?"

If that's what she wants, that's what he'll do. They'll figure out his whole thing with Yuri later on. Focusing on keeping together long enough to get to that point, that's the priority here.

"I don't want the edited version."

She leans her forehead against his, breathing slowly with eyes closed. A freezer of organs. The...the Hannibal affair>. She didn't understand. Not at all. But she didn't understand Mitch or Eddie or a world of people that had drive, either. Did misunderstanding make it all wrong?

"But I can't...I can't live like this. Wondering what else I don't know. Maybe if you say it all...yeah. It has to end. Or change. But- I won't hate you, Will. If you just tell me. I don't know what I'll do if you lie now and there's more later."

"No, you can't. You shouldn't be expected to, either."

Said with a frown, because who'd been putting her in the position to live like this? Him. Husband of the Year he was not. Not this year not the year before not the year after. But he could be better than freezers of organs and screwing with a man he'd already screwed over in the ultimate way back home. As much as he doesn't want to, he steps back, running a hand nervously over his mouth, under his nose. There are two future roads. One has April at the end of it. The other is a small house filled with bottles and dogs that smells of fish and regret.

"No, no. No more," secrets, he wants to say. To cover up what his sins of omissions are. But April's done the legwork of pulling that rug out, so. "lies, no. I'll tell you the rest. Full thing, start to finish. It's gonna change."

The Hannibal affair was all about change. This would be undeniably less bloody. Which meant no more organs. Even hiding. The bug food starts hitting the floor again. Change starts now.

"Tell me, Will."

It's hard. Fuck, it's so hard to try to make eye contact right now. Denial, pretending, sarcasm. All so much easier to just deal with than actually being honest. But that what was marriage was about. Bare, bloody souls.

It really sucked, sometimes.

"Tell me you know...that if this happens again, that's it. We're just...that's it. I'd rather be alone than living in some freaking dollhouse. Pretending."

Thunk.

He debits the merits of continuing on to show just how much he understands this or stopping to make a more serious display of it. After a few seconds, he goes with a compromise. He doesn't turn to face her, doesn't even look over his shoulder, but he isn't going about the uncovering process. Just quietly standing.

"Just like I know the sky is blue, grass is green, and gravity will do what it does." For every action, there was an equal and opposite reaction. If Will pulled this shit again, that was the end. These were truths. These were facts only the truly stupid or insane would argue against. "I can get rid of these right now. Unless you have something you want to do with them?"

All the way, not half. If April just wanted Will to get rid of the horror freezer and quit this shit, then he'd do it. If she had other ideas, he was open to them. Her choice either way.

"Yeah- wait." She frowned at the freezer, seconding guessing, thinking. "No, I'll take care of it. I'll tell you how after it's done."

Just like she hadn't found out about them until after, until there was nothing that could be done. Fair was fair. Or as fair as the current situation could be. But she waited for the reply to that demand before dragging out the next question she needed to ask.

He's just about eat up with curiosity, but instead of displaying any of that, he looks at her and nods. Total acceptance. April will get the job done in her own way and he will be more than content to find out what she's done after her design goes through. That only leaves...

"You want me to go ahead and get it all out?"

He can, at the very least, serve as muscle for frozen organ moving.

"No. I'll get it later. I know my way in."

A pause, what else needs to be said here? Nothing. The rest can be done away from the organ box.

"Let's go home."

Another nod. Will makes quick work of putting everything back in and bolting it shut. Looks like they were never there. Looks just like a store freezer that contains product; of course it's locked, if somebody steals then it's money out of the shop's pocket. Definitely not locked because it contains something absolutely horrifying. He's careful to keep the key in view so April knows which one to yank later on, so she won't even have to ask. What's his is hers, after all.

The light gets turned off, leaving them in musky, chirping dimness. He dares to put his hand out, palm up. Are they gonna go home hand-in-hand?

She looks down at the hand for a moment, then back up at him.

"Don't go into details or anything now. But...is there more, Will? That you gotta tell me about?"

He could lie. He could lie and seal the deal that sometime in the future April would, with complete justification, leave him. He could be honest and risk Certain People being further displeased with him. April wins out over Certain People with barely a half second's thought put into it.

"Yeah. There is." Not meant for the walk home, but also so old there are no longer remains lingering. "And I'll tell you everything."

April takes his hand, tugging him back towards the car. She's not sure she's ready for all of it, but she was going to find out. There were no half-ways in marriage, no edited versions.

Even if it made life hard.

"Come on."

Where I Come From, We Believe All Sorts Of Things That Aren't True

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