Chapter Text
“If you utter one more word,” Joe said evenly, “I will dedicate whatever time I have left on this earth to see you gutted like a fish.” He finished his sentence with a slight smile, and in other circumstances he would have relished the way the agent gaped at him. The man - older, experienced, since they wouldn’t send anyone green his way - recovered quickly, to his credit, and opened his mouth again.
Joe cut him off with a shushing motion, chains rattling. “One. More. Word. I mean it, agent,” he added, gently.
Of course, it wasn’t enough to deter the man. Joe suffered through another round of pointless questioning, which he invariably answered with silence or six simple words: “I only talk to Ryan Hardy.”
Finally, he was left alone. Joe sighed minutely, closing his eyes and keeping his physical reactions to a minimum, not wanting to give the FBI apes watching him anything to go on. He ignored his bruised ribs, the fresh and itchy stitches which seemed everywhere on his body, the damning exhaustion. He idly wondered if Mandy was lost in the system already, or if she was still in the precinct. And Joey, had he been whisked away in witness protection? No, surely, even if the federal forces were that stupid, once Ryan got there, he’d set them straight. Make them see that those children, his children, were important and in constant danger and they should not be sent away.
Or maybe everything was lost, Ryan wasn’t coming, and he’d been immensely foolish, turning himself in like that. Of course at the time there hadn’t been a lot of options. He’d been covered in blood, injured, driving way too fast in a stolen car with Joey and Mandy in hysterics in the back seats. Running away from the highly secured compound that Strauss and his merry band of psychopathic students had organized to… He did not want to think about it. Time stretched and he fought to keep his hands from shaking.
“Damn, you’re pissed.” Ryan’s rough voice wasn’t unexpected. He’d always been there in his darkest moments. This time, his friend sounded amused. Joe opened his eyes and answered in stride, feeling quite confident no one would hear this particular conversation.
“I wouldn’t say pissed, exactly,” he said mildly. “But I do wish they’d stop wasting time and call you already.” He looked at the man. Ryan Hardy was in full Bureau attire, which was nice in a way, and appropriate, but he’d grown accustomed to seeing him in jeans and t-shirt. The agent was looking at him with a confused frown, and that made Joe’s shoulders tense up in a second.
“They called. I’m here now Joe, so let’s hear it.”
Carroll froze in place, face going completely empty, as he stared. Ryan tilted his head quizzically.
“I’m going to be honest,” Ryan said, “I expected more of a reaction. Mendez tells me you’ve been very hostile, that you only wanted to talk to me, blah blah blah. I’d be flattered, but really I’m just tired now. So you win. I’m here, ready to listen to whatever you have to say, and then I’m going home.”
“Are you real?” Joe whispered in a breath he hadn’t known he’d held.
Ryan paused, then let out a mirthless chuckle.
“Damn,” he repeated, taking a seat opposite the serial killer. “How long have you been hallucinating me?”
Joe looked away, noting absently that breathing seemed to hurt his chest.
“A couple of weeks… no. Four weeks. Quite regularly, I might add.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that all about?”
“You show up when I’m right there on the edge. But you talk, and you always bring me back.” He offered Ryan a sincere smile, even as his vision started to dim around the edges.
“Bring you back? From what?”
“...I don’t truly know, actually. It’s hard to say how people with my psychological profile will react under traumatic stress. But if I had to hazard a guess, probably some sort of dramatic nervous breakdown.”
Ryan scoffed softly, and yes, Joe could understand how ludicrous that sounded. He himself felt like he was wading through uncharted waters. He tugged on his cuffs, the metal biting into his wrists, and barely felt the pain, which couldn’t be a good sign. There was a distant roaring in his ears.
“...Joe?” Ryan’s voice was far away, and he couldn’t find his voice to answer him. “What the hell, we need a doctor here! Joe!”
Oh, Ryan’s hands were on him, shaking him, and that was always nice, but he couldn’t breathe, and there was a painful pounding in his chest. He blinked a few times, saw Ryan’s blue eyes, the lines of his serious face twisted in alarm. Then he saw nothing.