[A/N:Aleksander has two companions Stitch and Mathew the raven. I chose both of them, since I saw the number of votes for both of them were huge.]
In the basement, Wednesday's sharp eyes landed on the hulking safe pressed against the wall. Her tone was matter‑of‑fact, as if diagnosing a patient."That's it. The safe. Susie's body is in there."
Aleksander gave a grim nod, but just then his senses prickled. A hum of tires rolled close outside. His eyes narrowed.
"He's here."With a flick of his hand, the two shimmered and vanished into invisibility.
Moments later, the front door opened. George Harvey stepped inside, arms loaded with grocery bags. He moved with his usual meticulous calm, placing the bags neatly on the kitchen table. His carefully composed face softened into that polite half‑smile he wore for the world.But then he stopped.
Harvey's pale eyes darted around, his shoulders stiffening. He adjusted his glasses, scanning the silence of his home. Something felt off—an itch in the air, out of place—but no matter how long he looked, there was nothing he could pinpoint.
Slowly, he sighed, dismissing it, and began methodically arranging his groceries.
From the shadows, Aleksander whispered, his words low and steady."He has very good instincts."
Wednesday watched Harvey like a surgeon studying a subject, her eyes dark and unblinking."Otherwise, he wouldn't have lasted this long."
She tilted her head. "When is your uncle arriving?"
"Two hours," Aleksander murmured.
Wednesday's voice was flat, merciless.
"Too much time. Best to knock him out."
Aleksander gave a curt nod, raising his palm. A shimmer of golden dust bloomed in his hand, glowing faintly in the dim light. He leaned forward, blowing across it with a whispered command."Sleep."
The dust floated outward, forming into a soft, golden cloud. It drifted soundlessly into the kitchen, circling Harvey like a haze. He froze, blinking, his head turning slightly as though he'd sensed the faintest change in air. But it was already too late.The cloud swirled around his face, shimmering. Harvey's eyes grew heavy; he staggered, his grip faltering on the grocery bag. Within seconds, his lids dragged closed and his body went slack.With a dull thump, George Harvey crumpled gently to the floor, unconscious, groceries scattering across the kitchen tiles.
Aleksander lowered his hand, his expression sharp."Now… we have time."
Wednesday's eyes lingered on Harvey's motionless figure, her voice cold and confident."Good. Let's use it to end this."
When Jack, Abigail, and Lindsey first saw Harvey's scrapbook, their grief turned molten. Rage flickered across their faces at every strand of hair taped to the pages, every newspaper clipping of another life stolen.Aleksander placed a steady hand on Jack's shoulder, his tone calm but carrying steel."You can beat and break every bone in his body until the police arrive. I'll heal him up. He won't cheat his way out of this with bruises."
Jack needed no more encouragement. His fists flew with years of pent‑up grief. He struck again and again, cracking Harvey's ribs, snapping his arm, flattening his lip until he was a broken husk on the floor. Each time, Aleksander's hand hovered over the injuries and the bones reknit violently under Harvey's skin, forcing him to feel every blow. Harvey drifted in and out of consciousness, his mask completely shattered.By the time the distant wail of sirens filled the neighborhood, Jack's anger had dimmed only because his fists were raw.
Aleksander was quick to heal Harvey.
Multiple squad cars pulled up, lights painting the street in blue and red.From the lead vehicle, Teresa Lisbon stepped out, crisp and commanding as always. Grace Van Pelt followed with her laptop bag in hand, sharp-eyed and alert. And last, Patrick Jane strolled out with his usual calm swagger, hands tucked in his vest pockets as if arriving at a casual dinner.Two younger children were waiting near the porch—Buckley holding Susie's ghost close, still faintly visible in the shadows.Lisbon looked from them to the house, then to Patrick.
"Let me guess—that boy, he's your nephew."Patrick grinned and waved at Aleksander like they were at a family picnic.
"That's him. Aleksander Morozova. And by the looks of it..." his eyes sparkled, "…he seems to have finished the job."
Lisbon and Grace exchanged a look, curiosity deepening."Seal the area," Lisbon ordered the uniforms sharply. "Nobody in or out until I say so."Aleksander came forward to greet them, smiling as he embraced Patrick tightly.
"George Harvey is inside. He's… shall we say, temporarily incapacitated."Patrick clapped his nephew on the shoulder with obvious pride."What did I tell you, Lisbon? He did the job well. Runs in the blood."
Patrick turned smoothly and gestured toward his teammates."Teresa Lisbon, Grace Van Pelt. Ladies, my nephew."Lisbon reached out and shook Aleksander's hand, her green eyes still scanning him like she was trying to size him up.
"Nice to meet you, Aleksander. Jane's talked plenty about you."Aleksander's lips curved.
"Nice to meet you too, Ms. Lisbon. He talks about you just as much."
For the first time, Lisbon faltered, a faint pink tint rising in her cheeks. Grace caught it instantly, smirking behind her hand. Patrick, of course, was unbothered—he looked positively delighted.
Then Patrick's eyes drifted over Wednesday, his head tilting with renewed interest."So, you're the little psychic from the Addams Family. I knew both your parents."
Wednesday's arms folded, her stare focused straight through him."Nice to meet you too. I've heard a lot about you. I hope to learn some of your skillsets."
Patrick's smile turned warm, almost conspiratorial."I'm sure I can teach you. I've already passed a few on to Aleksander."
Wednesday glanced sideways at Aleksander, whose careless shrug betrayed only mild amusement."I thought it best you learn straight from the master," he said.
Wednesday's brows lifted almost imperceptibly. For her, that was a strong reaction. Still, she gave a short nod.
Lisbon, regaining her composure, redirected briskly."I heard you found evidence linking Harvey to multiple murders."
Without a word, Wednesday pulled the grotesque scrapbook from her satchel and laid it flat on the hood of a squad car. Her expression didn't waver, though her words carried icy finality."I hope you don't plan on giving him a lighter sentence. He doesn't deserve to breathe."
Lisbon stared at the book, opened to the strands of hair taped neatly against Harvey's handwritten confessions. Her lips tightened."No chance. Not with this."
Aleksander gestured toward the house, his tone steady but carrying a razor edge.
"In Harvey's basement, you'll find Susie Salmon's body. He keeps it there. And from what I've learned—he stares at it, relives the kill—over and over again."Lisbon's expression hardened instantly, the professional mask sliding in.
"Then we go in. I want that safe documented before he even blinks." She turned sharply to the uniforms. "Secure the basement. Evidence team, downstairs now. Nobody touches the safe until forensics has eyes on it."
Grace's face paled slightly at the sheer cruelty Aleksander described, but her resolve only sharpened. She pulled out her tablet, already drafting the intake report."That explains why he's been so confident all these years. It's not just about the killings—he's carrying his trophies around like anchors."
Patrick tilted his head, almost conversational.
"Of course. Lust killers rarely erase their crimes completely. They savor. Collect. To them, the crime is only half the story. The memory—that's the real addiction."
He gave Lisbon one of his light, infuriating smiles."And Aleksander's right. That basement is Harvey's coffin. Once you open it, his story ends."
Lisbon glanced at Aleksander again, her eyes steady but with grudging respect now."You did your part. Now let us finish it."