Ryan had pulled himself together, not so much for himself but for his sister. After Claire's death, the end of Joe's story, he'd drowned himself in alcohol and he probably would've already died from alcohol poisoning if it wasn't for Jess. He was the big brother but she was taking care of him, just barely convincing him to stay alive.

Mike called in, every once or twice. Ryan honestly expected the kid to want nothing to do with him, half expected to be blamed for Debra's death. He blamed himself after all. But no, Mike wasn't that kind of person and did keep in touch. Occasionally he'd call, mentioning new developments in the search for Emma and the other few people of Joe's following that they knew of.

Most of the time Mike simply called to know if Ryan was still alive, even if he didn't say those exact words.

Now it was nearing Halloween, several months having passed since Joe Carroll's death, and Jess was going out, planning a party with her friends. She'd invited Ryan, she always did, but as usual he declined the offer.

Nowadays, all Ryan did was lay around Jess' place and read. He never let Jess see what he was reading because he knew she would throw a fit, say it wasn't healthy for him. But this obsession of his was really the only thing.

Over and over again, he reread the stories of Poe, the tales and poems. He needed to understand why this had happened, what Joes found so godly about Poe. Part of Ryan needed to understand, wanted to desperately, but another part of him was afraid if he were to understand. What would happen to him then?

He had finally admitted to himself that he had enjoyed killing every follower that Joe had thrown at him, but that was only because he had been thwarting Joe, changing his game. But what about the addict who'd killed his father? Yes, the man probably had deserved it but Ryan hadn't been a cop then. He'd only been a boy, angry at his father's murder. Had that truly been justice?

Ryan didn't know, wasn't sure if would ever know, because for whatever reason he felt that only Joe would be able to tell him the answer but he was dead.

Several more days passed until Halloween finally came and with it, a letter.

"Ryan, something in the mail for you," Jess said, dropping it on the kitchen table, as she rushed around, getting ready for work.

Ryan got up, shutting the book and walked over to where it was. Picking it up, he saw the letter was from Mike. He walked back over to the chair he had been sitting in and opened it up, only to freeze mid step.

He was so very thankful that his sister couldn't see his face.

"I'll see you later Ryan. Call me if you need anything," Jess quickly said, not noticing how Ryan was so still. She was late for work after all.

Waiting until the door was firmly shut behind her, Ryan very slowly, afraid that his body wouldn't follow his instructions, sat back down. The letter was cheap paper but the writing style was elegant and unmistakable. With shaking hands, Ryan's eyes began to scan the words.

Dear Ryan,

I'm sure this must come as a shock to you. It certainly would for anyone. You might have already called the FBI by this point but I highly doubt it. I'm sure you want to finish it yourself. After all, we both started it together.

I've noticed you've been reading up on some of Poe's works. What do they stir within you Ryan? What message do you receive from his work?

Anyway, I'll make this quick and inform you that I am at 1054 Pembroke Lane. It's a desolate road. Make sure that you don't mind your car getting a little muddy.

Joe

P.S. I almost forgot to tell you, your sister's restaurant is quite lovely.

Shock ran through Ryan like a cold wind. Part of him wanted to rush to his sister, make sure she was alright, but of course she was. If Joe had wanted to kill her she'd already be dead.

But why was he revealing himself now?

Thinking about it, Ryan realized that it was simply for the dramatics. Halloween, hauntings, horrors, it was all part of it and the writings of Poe.

Part of Ryan wanted to call the FBI, just to smite Joe. However, he couldn't do that. No, he needed to talk to Joe, just talk, and he didn't feel like doing that with a camera in one corner and a guard in the other. If Ryan didn't kill the bastard, then he'd call the FBI.

He quickly got ready, going down to the restaurant to inform Jess he'd borrow her car but be back soon. Ryan had already looked up where the exact address of the house was. The drive didn't take long and the road that he ended up turning on to was old and unpaved.

Joe had been right about the mud.

When Ryan finally arrived at the house, it reminded him quite a bit of the House of Usher, large, dark, crumbling and yet sturdy. There was another car, a truck that Ryan couldn't help but wonder if it had actually been stolen or bought.

Ryan got out of the car and walked up to the large door, looking much like a gaping mouth. It was unlocked and as he walked in, he had to admit that the inside also very much resembled that of the House of Usher.

He didn't need any help, knowing full well where Joe would be.

Making his way through the old house, it was honestly amazing, each detail sparking a line of a paragraph in the short story. When Ryan finally made it to the sitting room, he saw that there was even a large fire, its flame taking away the fall chill.

"Ryan, lovely to see you again."

The words, sweet and smooth, pushed into Ryan's mind. He would've been lying if he were to say that it wasn't a relief to finally hear that very voice while conscious and not asleep. That very voice that Ryan had heard in his ear for so long was now in front of him.

"Joe. Care if I sit?"

"Of course not Ryan. There's scotch if you'd like some."

Ryan began to move forward and he couldn't but feel curious about how Joe might look. He could have zero scars from the fire but he doubted it. Until then, he had only heard Joe's voice, not seen his face.

Moving over to the waiting chair, Ryan finally turned slowly around. He flinched slightly but not from disgust, just utter surprise.

Honestly, there were very few marks on Joe's face, just a few small areas on his left cheek that had been burned. Ryan's cause for flinching was simply due to finally seeing Joe face to face again. A part of him had still been wondering if this was all in his mind.

"Are my scars that bad?" asked Joe and there was actual humor in his voice. The last time they had spoken, Joe's voice had been covered in insanity and unsteadiness.

For a moment, Ryan imagined that they were meeting again, simply to discuss literature and how it related to the murders of the young girls. But that was a long time again and Ryan had to finally open his eyes.

Sitting down, he replied, "Not at all. I'm just still shocked to see you."

"I must admit, despite being the one to invite you here, I wasn't sure if you'd come."

"Why is that?"

"Though I was hopeful, I was worried that you weren't the same Ryan that I had come to love. The loss of someone dear can change a person greatly and I wasn't sure if Claire's death would be the final one for you."

"I suppose you're happy though," replied Ryan. "Not just about me being here but about Claire's death."

"Ah, Ryan, that has always been your biggest failing. You have always mistaken my black heart for a cold one as well. Even after what she did to me, I still loved her. It was when she stabbed me that I finally realized that she would never love me. My plan to kill her was out of pure insanity and rage. I wasn't thinking rationally at the time," Joe said.

Ryan didn't want to believe this, but he could tell that what Joe said was true. The man wasn't a psychopath; he honestly cared about people and things in his life. The only problem was his obsession with Poe and his urge to kill. In some ways he was very much like Ryan himself except Ryan's obsession was with Joe himself.

"And now? What's your plan?" asked Ryan.

"I suppose it all depends on what you plan on doing."

"Well Joe, what do you want me to do? Hmm? You have this wonderful house, straight out of Poe's works. Clearly you have an idea of what's going to happen next."

There was a sigh that escaped Joe's lips. It wasn't one of defeat but it was one of realization. "Actually I don't."

For a moment, there was only silence between both men and to help fill it, Ryan finally poured himself a glass of scotch finally. Sipping it slowly, he asked, "Why did you make this house?"

"Believe or not I didn't. Oh, I furnished the insides, I simply couldn't help myself. The actual structure was like this when I found it."

"How long have you been here? Watching me and my sister?"

"About a month. Not very long at all."

"And Emma? What happened to her?"

"I killed her."

"Why?" asked Ryan and he was honestly extremely curious about the answer.

"She became…too attached. Emotion, finding your true self, is something I strive on but she wasn't using any common sense anymore."

"You mean you slept with her," Ryan replied causing a smile to appear on Joe's face.

"Ah, always the detective. Yes, a shame really. She was quite amazing," responded Joe as he took a sip of his own scotch. Shaking it off, he added, "Oh well, it was her own fault, unable to separate priorities."

"What about your followers? Your friends as you called them?"

"Oh, they're still out there Ryan. You must realize, I didn't just let loose a bunch of people, I let loose an idea and once that is out there, you can't kill it. I don't have any control over them anymore though. None of them even know I'm alive."

"Why wouldn't they? Don't you want to go back to toying with the FBI? What happened to your flair for dramatics?" asked Ryan.

"I simply have no desire for those kinds of antics anymore. There's only one thing that I truly care about now."

"What's that?"

"You."

The way Joe is looking at him makes Ryan's skin crawl but not because it's terrifying in any way shape or form. It's because Joe isn't looking at him like a toy to mess with or a chest piece in a game. He's not looking at Ryan like he's simply a character in his book.

He's looks at him like Ryan is now a co-author, someone just as important as Joe himself.

Ryan thinks of all the things to say to that. He imagines all the different meanings behind that simple word. Yet, the words that are thrown out of Ryan's mouth are, "I killed the addict. The one who shot my dad."

The shocked look on Joe's face shows that he hadn't figured this out already and he most certainly hadn't been expecting something like that to come out of Ryan's mouth.

"How did it feel?" There wasn't any teasing, no hidden agenda. Joe was just curious.

"It felt good." The words are now coming out; the gate no longer blocking them. "I still could never kill an innocent but to know that he wouldn't be out there…the feeling was rewarding. I felt the same feeling whenever I killed one of your followers. Even if it meant we wouldn't get any new information, their corpse, seeing it just felt…right."

Giving a small nod, clearly mulling this new information in his head, Joe replied, "I understand what you mean Ryan."

"You know, I actually believe you when you say that."

"As you should. I kill to see the beauty, to create my own moral code by which I follow. You have done the same. Now I can't help but wonder. Can you turn me in now that you have admitted to me that we really are so similar?" asked Joe.

Once again, the words came quickly. Despite how calm he seemed on the outside, Ryan realized that this conversation that he was having was just proving how messed up he really was. "No."

"That's excellent Ryan. I was hoping there wouldn't be a death or arrest in this house tonight."

Hanging his head, Ryan then said, "I've spilled out my secrets to you Joe, please just tell me why I'm the one thing you truly care about now."

Cocking his head to the side, Joe replied, "If any other cop had taken me down then I wouldn't have paid even half as much attention to them as I do to you. Though I never knew what you just told me, I did now that you were intelligent enough to match my wits, to actually understand me and not simply label me as a single word.

"Do you remember at the lighthouse Ryan? When I told you how we are connected?" questioned Joe.

"You said it was love. Love at first sight if I remember," responded Ryan.

"And that it was. I knew that Carroll the professor had a connection with Ryan. But what about Carroll the killer? At the time, I didn't know but tonight you have erased any doubt involving that," Joe said.

"You make it sound like you fell in love with me, like in a novel."

"How right you are."

The words caused Ryan's skin to crawl but not in a completely unwelcomed way.

"Just like dear Claire I fell for the charms of Ryan Hardy because rather you realize it or not, you are quite a charming man. You don't even realize how desperate I was to continue our sessions, to simply be together. But of course not everything lasts and you caught me."

"And after you escaped? What did you think of me at the end? Even when we were in the boathouse?"

"Like with Claire I would've killed you then and there. I was breaking Ryan," replied Joe. "However, I'm better in control of myself now. I'm extremely thankful that you survived that night and Molly."

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you but there's not much left to love Joe," Ryan replied, still not completely sure how to react to all this.

"Oh, you are so very wrong Ryan. There's much of you left. Those pieces simply need to be dragged back out again and dusted off. Do you have any obsessions Ryan?"

"You," he admitted.

Joe smiled. "I know that. After all, I read your book. Anything else?"

"Death."

"I can help you meet it at a halfway. I'll help you to kill."

"I can't do that Joe. The fact that I've come this far without doing something stupid or calling the FBI is amazing."

"Yes you can Ryan. I'm not asking you to do it in cold blood, if you can ever bring yourself to do that it'll be a ways away from now. No, I mean for you to kill those that have wronged others and have escaped justice. That is why you killed the addict, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I still don't know if I could do it," replied Ryan even though the voice in his head was saying he could, that he'd done before and doing it again wouldn't worsen anything. "Is this what you want? For us to be partners of a sorts?"

Joe stood up, walking towards one of the large windows. "Not partners, no. Simply friends helping each other, someone to fall back on in times of need."

"I still don't know Joe."

"A trial run then," Joe replied, turning to look back at Ryan. He walked over and said, "I even have a small list I've already collected over our time apart. Murderers, rapists, con-men who've escaped justice. Have you never taken someone in, someone you've known is guilty, only to have the courts let him get away?"

"Yes, of course," replied Ryan.

"Then let me fix that guilt you feel because I know you feel it. Show me what art you can create when you have full range and there aren't any laws holding you back."

Ryan screwed his eyes shut trying to think of this rationally but it was impossible to do so. This wasn't anything like what he'd imagined would happen.

Eyes still shut, it was an extreme shock when the lips crashed into his.

Shock causing his eyes to flash back open and his entire body to jerk backwards, he saw Joe's smiling face in front of him.

"I won't make you decide today Ryan. Besides, we've been here for quite some time and I'm sure your sister will need her car back soon. Say we meet again though? Sometime soon?"

"I'm not doing anything tonight," Ryan admitted. "I…I don't want this to be where our conversation ends tonight."

"Fine then, I'll meet you at your apartment," Joe replied, diving in for another shocking kiss that made Ryan's body jerk. He didn't flinch away though this time, allowing Joe to stay for as long as he wanted. "I'll see you soon Ryan."

Once Ryan was back on the road again and headed towards his apartment, he already knew he'd try what Joe had suggested. His obsession with man, the pull he felt towards him, would only then be eased along with his obsession with death.

It was a compact with the devil that he was entering in to, one that his conscience could never come back from. Ryan could say that his breaking mind was due to the death of Claire and Joe's followers but, no that would be a lie. Ryan had slowly been slipping off the deep end for years.

Ever since he first killed his father's murderer.

AN: First fanfic for the Following. Really hope you enjoy and reviews are greatly appreciated.