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Alex Reagan is fairly certain that this just happens to be the smallest elevator in existence. She’s been a lot of places in the world, but the one at the Usher Foundation that leads to the archive is the smallest modern one for sure. It’s barely big enough for three people honestly and that normally doesn’t bother her in the slightest. While Alex has a fair amount of fear for the things that she’d discovered over the last few months (the hunt for example is the one that sticks out the most considering it’s why she’s here) but the Buried wasn’t one of them. Alex was the sort of person who turned her bed into swaddling nests and burrowed into them. Honestly that buried blanket nest is where she felt the safest.

No. The elevator itself wasn’t the issue here. Alex Reagan has ridden it more than a few times since she’d started working in the archives a month or so ago. While she would rather be out there being a reporter, Alex had blown out all of the credibility that she’d ever had when she’d told people that the things that went bump in the night were real. In the end Tannis Braun was right about how her skills would be valuable here investigating the validity of the statements. In some ways it was almost freeing—when she was working for Usher, Alex didn’t need to worry about pesky things like journalism ethics. Instead she could lie and make someone believe whatever they wanted in order to get their story from them.

In a way it was all kind of freeing.

So if it wasn’t the elevator itself, and it wasn’t the confined space that bothered her what didn’t bother her exactly was the man who she was currently sharing the elevator with. His size in it, with the foot of height that he had on her, the more bulk that he’d had on his frame (not that Alex was calling him fat by any means) instead it was just the way that he loomed over her and seemed far larger in the space than he actually was. And the fact that he was attractive and god was he attractive. Alex has said hello when she’d gotten into the elevator with him, and saw that he’d already pushed the floor for the sub basement level archives.

But the problem was that somewhere between the archives and the first floor, the elevator had just decided to stop. Not just stopping which would be bad enough, but stopping and losing all power. Normally the dark wouldn’t have been a thing, because Alex would have just pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight app or call someone even if her phone didn’t have great service here. That was part of the reason it was still plugged in at her desk. Artifact storage was only three elevator stops away, and Alex was delivering some information she’d had on a statement. But now here they were in the small and dark with the extremely attractive man she doesn’t know.

This is fine. This is all fine.

But Alex just gives a grin that she knows that he wouldn’t be able to see in the pitch blackness so deep that it feels like she could hold it in her hands like dirt. “Well, I guess this is one way to avoid that meeting with my boss.” There isn’t fear in her, just the bad joking tone that Alex makes to lighten a situation. The meeting with Tannis was supposed to be in half an hour and she was supposed to be meeting someone important to the Foundation.

The fact that it could be the person in the elevator never even crosses Alex’s mind. After all, that man had been described to her as being ‘Old Man Strand’ and this man definitely wasn’t old in the slightest.

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For a moment Alex looks confused, even as she smiles when he kisses her hand like that. There’s the part of her that is entirely foolhardy that wants to ask what it is and stay, but somehow in this moment and the inhuman look in his eyes Alex isn’t about to test the newness of their relationship. So, instead she just presses a light kiss to the corner of his lip.

He was asking her to do something and Alex would—it’s both as easy and difficult as that honestly. She gives him a smile and inclines her head.

“I’ll meet you in the bedroom then? It’ll give me some time to shower and brush my teeth.”

She's so soft.

take her, kill her, take her down to crypts below and- His body trembles with lust as he runs his fingers through her hair but he has to-

"...I'll see you shortly. My bedroom is the first door on the right."

His smile is positively wicked as he leaves. A quick hunt. A body, a single body to feed his patron...
---

Richard's bedroom is elegant. It also looks barely used, though there are a few scattered objects on a bedside table and a few books open on the floor with symbols and glyphs relating to the hunt and the eye and the corruption scrawled across them.

Go farther in there are a few other signs - a shirt folded neatly on a chair, and a picture of two children holding each other and a blonde woman hanging between the two of them.

Beside it is an open box filled with dirt.

And a single strand of pearls.

"Okay." There's a little bit of confusion in her smile, but Alex takes her bags into Richard's bedroom. She looks around, because of coarse she does. It's not in Alex not anyway if she's not nosy. Honestly, it's one of Alex's defining characteristics. Setting her bag down on the floor near the foot of the bed, she removes her coat and settles it on the bench at the end of the bed.

The room is definitely more empty than she would have pictured for Richard's bedroom honestly, considering his office and the things in the basement that she'd already seen. Alex can tell he doesn't sleep in it very much, and she wonders if he sleeps more downstairs than up here, no matter how nice it actually happens to be. The pictures capture her attention easily, and Alex spends a long time staring at them. As she searches them for familiar features, and people, Alex just tilts her head a bit. That almost looks like--is that Richard?

But then the familiar scent of dirt hits her nose and instead, she can't help but to stare at the jewelry-sized box of it. Letting her fingers just brush the edge of the box, but not the dirt itself, Alex finds herself staring at it, and the string of pearls that go along with it in a fashion that is decidedly confused.

"Those were my sister's."

His voice is firm and he has a sandwich in his hands - a wrapped sub and a drink, "The pearls."

Setting the sandwich down he reaches for her fingers, smiling softly and sadly, "My great grandmother gave them to her. They've been in the Strand family for hundreds of years."

He pauses, "Do you want a sandwich? It's turkey and tomato. I had it delivered."

But his hands haven't let go of the pearls.

Alex just startles when she hears him speak and her eyes are wide. Honesty she hadn’t expected that he would be done so quickly with whatever it was that he was doing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to like. Intrude on them or anything. I was just very surprised to see them in the dirt. That’s.” Weird. “Unexpected I guess. I mean it’s dirt.” The question about it is implicit but she doesn’t ask about the dirt directly.

Instead Alex focuses on: “did you get done what you needed to do, love?”

"This isn't just dirt." He sets the sandwich aside, "This is from our summer house she- She liked it."

That was where his birth happened. Closing it gently he moved to take her hands, "It might seem silly but my family is very old and we...land matters. Ridiculously sometimes. At least I used to think so but putting roots down? Building a legacy can only come with a firm foundation."

He kisses her fingers after taking them, "...I may need to leave, but shall we continue our tour?"

He's already leading her from the room to a second place behind a very rich looking door, "I'm afraid of most of is bedrooms but I'm told the brocade is nice."

“You may have to leave?” Alex can’t keep the soft sound of protest in her voice and she just moves along with him. Alex isn’t an idiot and she knows that he’d lost his sister when they were kids, so she understands the needing to have roots even if she doesn’t quite understand the reason behind the dirt itself. Honestly it’s not for her to understand and she’s self aware enough to know that it’s alright that she doesn’t.

“How many bedrooms does this house have? I mean it definitely seems bigger on the inside than the out.” Even if it’s also small in its own way: penned in by the history of it and everything that goes along with it. It reminds her of the archives with its hidden treasures in a lot of way. Richard does feel more at home here, to Alex’s eye which makes sense considering it is his home.

Opening the door to the bedroom she'll be greeted by real gold brocade and a sense of dust and age there. It's rich and dark colored.

"...6. But I could just jump to my -"

And here he flushes.

"...Well. Come with me." Moving her from the room he takes her to a room down the hall.

What am I doing what am I doing what am I doing

"...You've become very special to me." His voice squeaks out before he can direct it, "So I think perhaps I ought to show you something ...personal. I mean my bedroom is just that, a bedroom, but this is -"

Another dusty room - but it's painted like a forest. There are tall trees and a mine painted on one wall with fake gems peering out of the wall like eyes. In each corner are beds, one light faded pink, the other dark red and brown. A tree climbs out of the corner and there are toys carefully laid about.

"This is...my childhood bedroom."

“Hey.” Alex’s voice is soft and she stops and draws in front of him, her hand moving to rest on his cheek as she gives him a bright smile. There’s love there, that’s for certain, in the corners of it and shining out from the dark eyes behind her glasses. “You’re very special to me too, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before. And definitely not ever so fast you and I. We have a—“ A connection, a love. A something that Alex isn’t quite sure how to describe really. She does know that she is definitely in far too deep to ever back out now. It makes Alex wonder if being Buried in a feeling counts.

Funny how she’d never thought about that before. Maybe it was the dirt or the mine.

“Your room is gorgeous though. I can’t even imagine what it was like to grow up in here.”

"Watch this."

Stepping to the side of her, moving toward the mine. Pressing a gem in the wall the doors creak open to reveal an empty closet.

"This was mine and Cheryl's secret space. And our closet."

And she likes it. She doesn't think it's strange.

"...None of this really bothers you does it. Being buried in my family's strangeness and our secrets."

“Wow. Can I...?” Alex starts to ask before she steps into the closet without waiting for an answer because she’s Alex Reagan and she always leaps before she looks honestly and more than that she trusts him and trusts that she’s safe even buried here among everything that was his family and his house and just him, himself.

Standing in the doorway of the closet, Alex just asks softly, “I mean why would it? Family is important. This, all this stuff...” Alex just makes a broad gesture with her hand when she says it, her eyes locking with his own.

“I mean it really is just you. And considering everything why would it bother me?” Alex doesn’t say that she loves him, not outright but the tone of her voice implies it without a doubt.

Edited 2020-12-11 05:27 (UTC)

It really is just you. Why would it bother me?

His gaze slides to the door, "...Come on. Let me make you something to eat." Despite the sandwich, reposing in his room, his focus wholly is on her.

The moment they're out of his bedroom however something has clearly changed in the downstairs foyer. There's an oppressive air, "I think some sort of pasta perhaps."

He smiles thinly, but when they get into the kitchen the oppressive air - for those who aren't used to it - would be terrifying.

Alex isn’t terrified, not exactly but she can feel it. She can feel the change in the air and it reminds her of the way that the elevator felt when she had first met him and how the two of them had talked in there. How it had dropped.

There’s confusion on her face, but she doesn’t run screaming or anything. Instead she just stands near him and asks in a voice that is very serious. “What’s going on?”

"Nothing." He smiles, but his features look a little drained, "I just had to take care of something I..."

He pauses, "I'm not feeling well. I'll be all right but sometimes it just hits you. Has that ever happened to you?"

Leading her into the kitchen, Alex might note there's a soda cup on the counter.

"Just sudden fatigue. I think making something might help."

Alex’s expression just shifts into concern for him, even as she can feel the oppressive air slipping and pressing around her. It’s still present, but a manageable annoyance like a seam at the wrong angle on a sock that’s twisted in your shoe.

“Okay. If you’re sure I mean. We can always just get some sleep if you’re tired. You did just fly like halfway around the world a few hours ago. It’s probably the jet lag and stuff just catching up with you.” Compounded by the fact that they’d had some fairly energetic sex back in her office at the foundation too.

"I-" His hands flutter, "...Yes. Perhaps you're right."

He frowns. Even his hands appear pale, staring down at them she might see fear cross his features. Fear and shame. It's gone in an instant.

"...I'm not used to having people take care of me. My ex-wife was not..."

He shrugs, "She wasn't. Are you all right with that? Not hungry?"

Alex just frowns when she catches the fear and shame, and she can't help but wonder if it's because of her. Had she done something? Was he regretting this? She hopes not. But honestly she's so focused on him that she misses the soda glass that's there in the kitchen with them. Focusing on a person she cares about is always something that Alex has done to the exclusion of everything else--she's got singlemindedness when it comes to some things like people and stories. Richard Strand right now isn't an exception to this point at all.

"I'm okay with that if you are, love." Her voice is soft, and she just cups his cheek with her hand once more, brushing her thumb against the line of his lip there in slow but reassuring circles.

"There's always breakfast, you know."

"...Now I make delicious omelets." Perhaps that's what they need to do. Sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close, he gestures, "Let me take you to where I - tend to sleep even though my bedroom is upstairs."

His secret can wait. She's being so kind to him. Leading her out of the kitchen and down a level, she'll find them in a warm room room. It's comforting and clearly lived in, smelling of sandalwood and wet earth but there are no windows or exteriors.

"...I don't think you'll mind." He chuckles, "But I sleep naked. When you try the bed you'll see why. Oh! And come and look at this."

Gesturing for her to follow she'll find a bathroom surrounded by candles, a huge stone tub with plants.

"...It's big enough for two."

Honestly this just makes a hell of a lot more sense than the room upstairs and Alex is half tempted to go and grab her bag and bring it down to the place where Richard actually sleeps. The room feels like it could be an underground cave—a den almost honestly and it feels very homely and comfortable. Much like Richard himself does. She follows him into the bathroom and her eyes go wide below and around the rims of her glasses as she stares at that stone tub.

“I think you can fit the bedroom of my apartment in that tub, actually. I’m not surprised it fits two.” Honestly it’s half of a bad joke, but Alex’s brain is definitely spinning as it creates the conspiracy board in her head. Red strings are woven together, drawing along points and plots to their logical conclusion—at least for Alex.

She remembers meeting him in the elevator and how many Buried things are downstairs in the archives. She remembers the way that he’s put her office down there as well. How he feels more comfortable in places that would smother people. How interested Richard was in the Buried person that she’d found in the peat moss and the Buried ritual. That’s not even counting the box of dirt in his bedroom (or rather the place that he calls his bedroom) or this room, or the stone of the tub.

All of these things draw together to make one large picture and Alex just gasps as she stares at him. Without thinking about it—Alex Reagan lacks a filter even in the best of times never mind around something like this—she just blurts and asks him straight out. “You’re an avatar of the Buried, aren’t you? It’s why you’ve been having me look into so much Buried stuff in the statements along with the Eye.”

Edited 2020-12-20 04:04 (UTC)

You're an avatar of the buried aren't you.

It's said so cavalierly his tie drops out of his hand. Was I so damned obvious? Or did he want to be caught?

He's aware of how pale his hands are, how his features are gaunt. Alex is staring at him and he turns to face her with his features sincere.

"Why would you say something like that?"

He thinks. He thinks of Elias and of the other avatars. Of the Buried's plan. Of his goal and final form and-

"...What would change if I was?"

For a very long moment (which seems even longer when it comes to Alex, because Alex is never quiet) she doesn't know what to say in response to him and his question. He doesn't deny it, and Alex knows that she's right. Dr. Richard Strand; her lover, her boss, the chief patron of the Usher Foundation which is intended to be something that stops things from happening is an Avatar of the Buried. God, what's worse is that Alex loves him, and she shouldn't. The knowing that she shouldn't isn't exactly new--Alex has known that since the first time that they were flirting, the first time that he'd asked her if he could kiss her--but she also knows that this should make her feel different. It should make her run for the hills and away from this and him.

But she doesn't. Instead, she just stays there, a bit frozen as her dark eyes move over his blue ones, as they trace the gauntness in his cheekbones and in his face. Fuck, she still loves him. Fuck, Alex still thinks that he cares about her, that he may love her even. Alex Reagan's moral code has always been considered flexible at best, and now it seems to have abandoned her in it's entirety.

So, for the first thing that Alex says, it's a question, which one shouldn't be surprised about considering how many questions she'd already asked of him since they'd started working together. "Are you planning on killing me? Sacrificing me?"

"No."

It's firm and serious and focused. His eyes crack with emotion as he stands up straight, "No. Never. You're not- Trust me you are in absolutely no danger from me."

He says as he looks sick, pale and gaunt, "...Never in a million years alex I love you."

Well, that's something at least. And there's no small amount of Alex that hates herself in that she is both relieved by that and yet she doesn't immediately demand that he not kill anyone else. Alex's entire life she'd thought that she'd be the sort of person who would have always stood up for other people, but here faced with this... she's not. She should be running out the door and away from this man who feeds people to the fear that he serves. It doesn't take a genius for her to figure out that was why he'd just sent her upstairs, that's what the call was about. He'd buried someone here in this house while she was here. Yes, Alex feels more than a little guilty and more than a little responsible about it.

And even more so that she's not immediately charging in to find whoever it was and help.

"Shit." Alex just sighs the word softly as she goes and sits on the side of his bed, her eyes on him as she wraps her arms around herself. "I love you too, Richard." There's a little pause before she adds, "I don't know what to do with this. Because I love you and I've never fallen in love with someone this quickly before and I know that I don't want to lose you."

Sending her to London seems even more prudent at this point because better an Avatar than a human prone to moments like this. Instead he sits, moving to pull a chair seemingly from nowhere to sit and study her.

"You...don't have to do anything. It's not like I'm not capable you've seen that. Or that I'm some sort of...freakish being." For now. Or ever. Truthfully ever.

"But I know those things don't stop you so. I'd imagine you have questions." He inhales, then, "Let me get the first two out of the way. Yes. I have killed people and enjoyed it. Yes. I know it's wrong. There are extinuating circumstances here Alex Reagan, but I unlike a lot of other predators out in the world will not lie to you about them. I haven't lied about this, it's just never come up."

The last few lines are desperate, more pleading than he's used to sounding.

"Now that those are out of the way, feel free to ask me anything else."

Does Alex Reagan have questions? Of course she has questions! More of them than she can count honestly. They spiral and spool in Alex’s brain, each one laying itself out from the need to Know that’s been present in her for longer than Alex can even express—definitely longer than she’s been working so closely aligned to the Eye and the Buried.

But all of those questions go out the window with the plea in his voice. The desperation in his tone twists a razorwire around the knife that it em plants in her chest and Alex is on her feet without realizing it. Her hand presses to his face, her palm cupping it like she has done so many times before. Following the touch with a light kiss that she hopes is going to chase away some of that sadness in him she just softly whispers to him a single promise. “I love you and I’m not going to leave.”