Vaughn felt the urge to fidget as he stood there. He could tell how Ilyas was trying to figure him out. He planned on being open with him about his intentions during this talk. He needed to get everything out right away. “I’m Vaughn,” he responded levelly, shifting his weight on his heels. “You’re Officer Damian’s relationship partner, correct?”
Ilya struck 'poker buddy' off the list of things Vaughn could be as he spoke, lack of knowledge about his relationship dispelling him from the category. "Damian is my partner," Ilya replied, every inch of him tensing in distress at even the mention of his name. He was immediately reminded of how long he had been at the park- intimately aware of the fifteen-minute walk back to a house Damian would arrive at in 20.
Vaughn saw the way Ilya tensed. From that and the fact that he was wearing long sleeves, he knew this boy had suffered from abuse. “And are you aware that Officer Damian was accused of physical abuse by another partner a few years ago?” he asked, his head cocking to the side. The figure matched the motion, leaning over Ilya now. He wished he could tell it to go away, but that would make him look crazy.
Ilya laughed, a bit of tension bleeding into it as he shook his head. There was no way this stranger could know something nobody but Damian dared to suspect. He pulled unconsciously on his sleeves. "Damian is good to me." The lie was acrid on his tongue, but it burnt less than the sting of Damian's fists. It hurt less than the beating he'd get if the details of their relationship reached the public- not that they would with Damian's connections. "He says he loves me."
Vaughn shifted his weight again, humming lowly. “Is he now?” he asked, throwing another glance past Ilya to look at the figure. ’Go on,’ it urged him in a sharp whisper, it’s mouth unmoving. “If things were to be happening, I’d say I’m good at fixing problems like that. I know I’m very good. So good they’ve put me on the news a couple times before,” he rambled lowly, hands moving as he spoke, tilting his head back as he scratched at the nape his neck. He wondered how obvious he was being with who he was.
Ilya's barely there smile tapered off into a confused frown and he began to inch away from Vaughn slowly. His ramblings paired with the way he seemed to be staring right past Ilya combined in his head to make an unstable individual. As Ilya knew, instability was dangerous. No matter how golden the thing the man was offering seemed, it was dangerous. "I'm sorry, but I think you're mistaken. Damian and I don't have any problem." He paused, licking his lips. "But if we did I wouldn't be able to talk about it. Not right now."
Vaughn watched as Ilya inched away gradually. The figure tilted its head, standing by Vaughn. ’Don’t lose this, Finley,’ it whispered to him, his fingers twitching lightly. He inhaled steadily and blinked a couple of times. “I can pick up on signs of abuse,” he commented slowly. He took a moment before speaking again. “Do you know who I am? Do you have any guesses?”
Ilya stopped moving at the word 'abuse', heart thundering to a stop. If Damian knew he had been with someone who even hinted at knowing the real nature of their relationship- if he even suspected… Ilya trembled, sparing a cautious glance for Vaughn. Not liking the way his fingers twitched, just like Damian's did before he clenched them into fists. "I don't. I just know I'm going to leave this conversation now." He rose to his feet gracefully.
Vaughn felt his heart skip a beat when Ilya got up to leave. He couldn’t lose a client, it could be damaging. His name and appearance could be given to the police and it would be the end of everything. “Don’t,” he said swiftly, shifting to stand in front of Ilya. He quickly thought of how threatening he could look like this and raised his hands in the slightest as he shifted backwards. “I wouldn’t hurt you. You just need to understand, you don’t understand this yet.”
Ilya flinched as Vaughn bolted in front of him, stumbling backward as the man raised his hands. The slight movement set him off and he collapsed back onto the bench, arms braced in front of him to prevent the blow sure to fall at any second. It was clear Vaugn's reassurance had done nothing. His legs curled up underneath him as he fell inwards, making himself as small and innocuous as possible. "I'm sorry!" His voice was soft, this time with fear. "I'm sorry, I won't move! I'll stay!"
Vaughn’s eyes widened at Ilya’s terrified reaction. The figure made a chuckling hiss, and he clenched his jaw. He crouched down in front of where Ilya was, keeping distance between them for the male’s sake. “Listen, listen..” he spoke, softening his voice as best as he could. “It’s ok- I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help you. I know you’re scared, I can tell.” He brushed his hair back from his forehead, and he took another low breath before speaking. “I can help you.”
Ilya's breaths were coming out shallow and fast as he sat, waiting for something to come. For some sort of pain to burst its way across his body until Damian got tired of hitting him. When the blows neglected to come, he peeked from behind his arms, surprised by Vaughn's respectful distance. The gentle tenor of his voice. He unspooled a bit, still huddled in a tight ball on the bench but less tense. "Help me? How?" His voice was spiteful. Mocking. He toned it down and continued. "Damian has too many friends. There's nothing for me to do."
Vaughn’s fingers twitched again as he glanced Ilya over. The movement was just a tic he had. It wasn’t caused by anxiety or anything like that. It just happened a lot randomly. “Like i said. I’m good at my work,” he responded, but frowned. “Friends..” he repeated slowly afterwards. Did they do things too? This would be complicated. If so, he would have to spend time picking them off one my one. He shifted to sit on the concrete path near the bench, sitting criss cross almost like a child would, and he rubbed at the nape of his neck.
Ilya flinched away as Vaughn's fingers twitched again, still hopped up on adrenaline from the previous scare. "Friends," he echoed back to Vaughn, voice still measured and carefully moderated. "Friends in high places who do what Damian wants. So it's impossible to help, no matter how good you are at your job." He shrugged, already at peace with the idea that he would most likely die with Damian. Possibly because of Damian. He'd had 2 years to settle into the idea, so much so that it seemed more of a comforting eventuality than a horrible fate. Some day, he would escape. It just might have to be in a body bag instead of on his own two feet.
Government officials.. It made sense, made lots of sense. Vaughn was on his feet again, pacing now. He couldn’t sit still, not with the voices telling him so many things at once. “Government. No no, this is a good challenge. A different change. I can do this, I can still do this. I’m good- I’m the best. I was on the news last week,” he rambled, more to himself than to Ilya. He was simply repeating what the voices said. He’d just have to be more careful than usual.
Ilya pressed into the back of the bench, as far away from Vaughn as he could get without standing. Despite his assurances, Ilya didn't trust someone so obviously unhinged to keep his temper or his fists in check. It was only a matter of time before Vaughn took a swing at Ilya just like everyone else had. As he rambled on, Ilya began to feel uneasy but it wasn't until his last sentence that cold dread began to creep down Ilya's spine. It wasn't… He couldn't be… Could he? "You're him. The- the one who killed that man! Bailey Wright."
Vaughn’s head quickly turned to look over at Ilya as he finally realized it. ’Took him long enough,’ the voices said, and he quickly blocked them out. He dropped back down to a crouch, holding his hands up. “Yes, yes. Don’t make a scene- don’t,” he said quickly and softly. It didn’t sound demanding. His words more sounded like a slight plea.
Ilya's lips snapped closed at the plea and he nodded, trying to show that he would do as Vaughn asked. That there was no need to stab him the way he'd stabbed Bailey. He ran over all of Vaughn's previous mumblings in his head, piecing things together. "Do you want to… to kill Damian?" he breathed, hope dancing through the words before he could stop them.
Vaughn breathed out when Ilya silently agreed to not give him away. There were people nearby. All Ilya would have to do was scream and his cover would be completely blown. “That’s my plan, yes. But I still do need help- from you,” he explained shortly.
All of Ilya's burgeoning hope died in an instant, crushed by the thought that he would have to participate in the murder. Damian had him trembling on his kindest days; there was nothing that would keep him from breaking down if they really pushed Damian to the edge. "I can't!" His tone was too sharp to address a murderer, so Ilya softened it, made it manageable and quiet. "He'll kill me. Without breaking a sweat."
Vaughn wished he could reach out and rest his hand on Ilya’s arm or something comforting of those sorts. But the male was skittish. It would make things so much worse. “He won’t kill you- he won’t. He won’t know you’re involved, won’t even know that I’m around until it’s his time,” he reassured Ilya, his head tilting. “All you have to do is show me his schedule and possibly the layout of the home. You don’t have to do anything with the actual killing.”
That calmed Ilya some, but there was still panic bubbling through his veins and sparkling in his eyes. Damian would catch on- he always did- because Ilya couldn't lie. Ilya and his stupid eyes would spill his guilt and then instead of being free he'd be on his way to the ER for the nth time this year. "He'll know. I can't… god, I can't hide anything from him. He'll ask and then he'll break my neck."
Vaughn shook his head a bit. “You’ll be ok. If he asks if anything is going on just say you met a new friend at the park. I could.. I could send someone that wasn’t me to meet him if he asks who,” he explained. That would either be his therapist, Manuel, or his most recent old foster sister, Veronica. “We can pull this off. Just think, it works and you’re safe from harm, and that filth is rotting away six feet under.”
Ilya nodded, latching onto the words the way a child clings to its mother. Vaughn had done this before. Vaughn knew what to do. Vaughn had provided him a convenient excuse to escape Damian's wrath. His breathing evened out and he sagged on the bench, looking every inch like a puppet with its strings cut. "I just need his schedule and a map of our house? And then you'll take care of everything?"
Vaughn picked up on the change. Ilya was calmed now. This was a good thing. Ilya was believing him when he said that everything would be ok. This is what he wanted to happen. “Yes, that’s all. That’s all that’s necessary,” he responded before speaking up again. “And I need a number I can contact you with. Just in case.”