Universe: Pre-The Following, late 2004
Characters: Jenny Hardy and Ryan Hardy
Pairing: Hints of Ryan Hardy/Claire Matthews
Rating: T
Summary: Jenny Hardy is having serious misgivings about her brother's continuing friendship with Claire Matthews, the wife of infamous serial killer Joe Carroll, and she can't keep them to herself anymore.
Author's Note: So this fic initially began as nothing more than an exercise to see if I could do the lovely Jenny Hardy some justice, but then, as it always seems to happen with these little ideas, it morphed into its own thing. While I don't think this fic fits exactly into the canon for the show—it's probably more of a slight AU—I hope you all like it anyway, and think that it portrays the Hardy siblings realistically. Reminder: This one-shot is set in 2004, before Ryan and Claire become romantically involved. Please enjoy. :)
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"Hi, you've reached Ryan Hardy. Sorry I can't come to the phone right now—"
"Yeah," Jenny muttered darkly, clutching her cellphone tightly in one hand so she wouldn't throw it across the room in frustration. "I wonder why."
"—but if you leave me a message, I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
Jenny waited for the beep of her brother's answering machine with the last ounce of patience she had left in her body, and the second it chimed, she jumped in, not wasting any time: "Ryan, check your phone. I don't mean glance at it and then put it away, I mean look at your missed calls and call me back. I must've left a hundred messages by now, and if that doesn't get the message across that I want to talk to you, I don't know what else to do. It's been days, Ryan. I need to talk to you, okay?" She paused, and knowing it probably wasn't worth her breath, but not knowing what else to say, she finished in a tired mutter, "Call me back."
She looked down at her watch after she ended the call and, noticing that it wasn't as late as she though it would be, and decided to head out to her brother's apartment just for one last try. It was on her way to work, anyway, and even if he wasn't there, at least she could leave an obnoxious note on his door. He couldn't pretend to ignore that like he could her calls and texts. Or at least she hoped so.
It took her about twenty-five minutes to walk over to his place, and all the while she tried to think about what she'd say if he actually happened to be there. She didn't expect him to be—not after he'd been absent the last four times she'd stopped by his place—but she figured she should plan just in case. It never hurt to be prepared.
Thinking things out in detail, however, turned out not to be as easy as she'd expected. She knew what she wanted to say—Stay away from Claire Matthews—but she didn't know how to phrase it politely enough so that he wouldn't blow up on her again. She'd tried to talk about the subject with him once before, but he'd completely avoided answering her questions and spent all his time pretending like he didn't grasp all that she was hinting at.
For what had to be the hundredth time, she wondered again what her usually logical brother thought he was doing. It had been one thing when he was visiting that Matthews woman early on after Carroll's arrest, helping her through his conviction process and letting her know what the trial would be like, but now…
Now it was one year later—soon to be two, actually—and Jenny didn't think more than a month went by without those two seeing each other in some capacity.
It had been nice at first, yes, to see how easily they got along, but now it was a problem—Jenny was sure of it.
She had just spotted his building when she came to a decision that the best course of action was to be completely straight with him—be it in person or in the note she knew she'd probably have to end up leaving. It's better that way, she told herself as she headed up the stairs. It may be harsh, but it will get the job done. And considering how bluntly her brother spoke, even on good days, she knew he could take it. He had to.
She knocked three times on his door in rapid succession and then stood back to wait. She told herself this wouldn't be like the other times; she wouldn't wait around for him for fifteen minutes again. Either he was home or not, and if he didn't come to the door in the next thirty seconds, she was—
"Who is it?"
Jenny Hardy jumped in surprise when she heard her brother's voice emanating from the other side of the door. He was here. She couldn't believe he was here. Despite knowing that she was supposed to be upset, despite knowing that the entire speech she had planned would probably end up in a fight, Jenny couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice. For the first time in three days—and almost double as many house calls—he was actually here to answer the door when she showed up to his apartment. "It's your sister," she replied, raising her voice so it would carry through the wood. "Open the door, Ryan!"
"Coming, coming," she heard him call from the other side of the wall, and she could tell just from his voice that he was smiling. She tried to force hers off her face—she had a job to do here—but it wasn't that easy.
"Hey, Jen." He was, indeed, smiling when he pulled open the door. He looked equally as pleased to see her as she would've been to see him three days ago, and in spite of all the reasons that she'd come here today, in spite of all the lectures she'd concocted in her head in her trip across town, she couldn't help but smile back. It might have only been days since she'd last spoken too him, and a few weeks since they'd met in person, but it still felt like it had been altogether too long since she'd last visited the one person who made up her entire family.
She looked him up and down, happy as always to see that he looked to be outwardly healthy. She still couldn't erase the images of his bloodstained body being rushed into the ER all those months ago, and so neither could she stop her habitual check of his well-being every time she saw him. "Hi, Ryan."
"Come on in," he called, waving her inside as he shut the door behind them both.
Jenny glanced around as she stepped inside, surprised to find his place looking practically spotless. Her brother wasn't a slob—he wasn't that bad—but usually when she visited there were dirty dishes on the counter, or at the very least, some unwashed clothes lying around. She looked hard now, but she couldn't see a single thing out of place.
"Wow," she couldn't help but comment. "It's so clean in here."
She could hear Ryan laugh shortly by her side as he replied, "Yeah, well, I haven't had much chance to mess it up in the last few days. So enjoy it while it lasts," he grinned, stepping away and moving to the kitchen.
Jenny watched him go, feeling the smile fall from his face as she digested his words. She wondered if he even realized what he'd said, even realized how it would sound to her—or any other rational human being. You need to talk to him, her conscience shouted in her head, as it had nearly every day for… God, even she didn't know how long any more.
She cleared her throat quietly, following slowly in his wake and taking a seat at his kitchen table. "So…" Despite her vow to be blunt earlier, she couldn't quite manage it yet. She'd only been here for a minute, and she didn't want to be kicked out so quickly. She hadn't just how much she'd missed him while he was gone until he showed up out of the blue, right in front of her. "How've you been?" she asked. "I feel like it's been a while since I've seen you."
"Yeah, you know, me too." He caught her eye with a smile. "And I've been good, actually." He sat down across from his sister and nodded in her direction. "You?" he asked. "How've you been?"
"Good," she replied slowly, still thinking of the best way to broach the subject. She steeled herself, ready to ask—
"Hey, you want something to drink?" Ryan wondered before she could speak, getting up and moving towards the fridge. "I've got some orange juice, I think, if you—"
"Where were you on Friday?" Jenny blurted abruptly, unable to hold it in anymore. She quickly backtracked when she saw the confusion on her brother's face, and hurried to explain: "I, I stopped by, but you weren't here." I stopped by on Saturday, too, she thought, but somehow managed not to say. And Sunday. And you weren't here. Why weren't you here? "I checked in all weekend—"
"I was in Richmond," Ryan replied at once, as if it were the most normal answer in the world. As if it was where Jenny should've expected him to be.
Jenny bit back her immediate, insulting reply at his calm response. Richmond. Of course. In all honesty, she had been expecting that answer—since it seemed like there wasn't another one these days—but still, she'd held out hope that maybe he'd been somewhere else. Maybe he'd been with someone else. Jenny knew what 'Richmond' was synonymous with and it was the entire reason she was here today. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to nod slowly and reply as evenly as she could manage, "You were in Richmond. With…" She paused so she could keep her voice steady. "Claire Matthews."
Ryan stared at her, expressionless for a moment, before smirking. "You say that like it's not a good thing," he chuckled. He pointed at her. "You were the one who wanted me to be friends with her, Jen. Remember? Don't look at me like I'm the bad guy for following through on your orders, all right?"
Jenny nodded, looking down. She knew he was right; there was no denying that she'd encouraged him to help that Matthews woman out when he could. "Yeah," she muttered finally. "Friends." She chewed on her lower lip for a long moment, thinking, as she listened to him open the fridge and busy himself searching inside it. She tried to think of another way to stall, but she came to the conclusion that it was pointless. She'd have to say the words, ask the questions, eventually. She focused herself, taking another deep breath. "Ry?" she began quietly, hoping for his attention.
"Hm?" he murmured distractedly, not even seeming to take notice of her subdued tone as he rummaged inside the fridge.
Jenny held her tongue, waiting for him to notice her silence and turn to meet her eye. He never did, and finally she just asked, not bothering to beat around the bush anymore: "Ryan, are you and Claire Matthews more than friends?"
That got his attention. His head snapped around at once, and she could practically see his eyes grow wide with shock. The silence hung between them, charged and untouched, until he grinned again, wiping his face clean of the momentary surprise that had briefly dominated his features. He shook his head, as if her question had been amusingly misguided instead of—Jenny was certain—completely on point. "Jen, what are you talking about?" His smile widened as he laughed. "Why would you even think something like that?"
Jenny pursed her lips, struggling to beat back the frustration and anger that had sparked inside her at his facetious reply to what had been a very serious question on her part. She told herself she shouldn't have expected anything else, not after he'd played things off before, but that didn't help. This time was supposed to be different. A thought occurred to her as she stared at him, and she decided that just because he wasn't going to cooperate didn't mean she was expected to give up. Newly invigorated, she made no apologies as she began: "Don't play stupid with me, Ryan. You know exactly what I'm talking about." She paused a second, giving him one last chance to cooperate, but he didn't so much as wipe the smile off his face. "You were there all weekend, Ryan. You can't expect me not to think that something's going on—"
He scoffed, brushing her aside. "Oh, it's a six-hour drive, Jenny—"
"I know how long it is," she cut in sharply. And I know how often you make it.
"Yeah, and so?" She watched his narrow as he turned fully to face her, and Jenny knew already that there wouldn't be any stopping once they continued down this path. She knew that, and yet, she couldn't find it in herself to care. "What did you expect me to do, Jen, drive all the way down there, stay for five minutes, and then drive all the way back? What would be the point of that? Nothing," he answered before she could even open her mouth. "So I stayed the weekend at her house—that doesn't mean anything, Jen. I mean, who cares if—?"
"I care," Jenny cut in heatedly, jumping to her feet. "I care, Ryan!"
"And I am asking you why," he shot back, advancing on her. "Why do you care? Why do you have to make this your business?"
Jenny opened her mouth to reply—she was not making this her business—but he blew past her.
"Because it isn't! Okay? It's none of your business who I choose to spend my time with and where I do that." He leveled a fierce gaze at her, just begging to her challenge him. "I've had enough of your nosing around, Jen. Got it?"
Jenny ignored him, instead focusing her energy on hitting back. "You slept there, didn't you," she accused coldly.
Ryan rolled his eyes, clearly already knowing what connection she was trying to make. "Yeah," he answered finally, after taking his time in denying her a response. "Yeah, I did." He shrugged. "So what? She has a spare bed. It was convenient. And by the way," he added, raising his voice, "it was her who offered—"
"Of course she offered!" Jenny practically shouted. "She was being polite!"
"No!" Ryan drew out the word, mocking her with feigned surprise. "Really, Jen? Was she? Because I had no idea."
Jenny glared at him but didn't rise to the bait, even though she sorely wanted to. She'd spent her entire childhood responding to his taunts and she liked to think she knew better now. "You should've gone to a hotel, Ryan," she informed him.
"And you should stay the hell out of my life," he retorted immediately, his eyes as cutting as his words as he glared at her.
Jenny swallowed, rocking back on her heels at his reply. Her mind spun as it searched desperately for another explanation, for any explanation, except the one it was immediately drawn to. They're friends, she told herself, struggling to fool her own mind like he had been trying to fool her, but she knew that was a lie, at worst, and an omission of the truth at best. Friends weren't this protective about their friendships. Friends didn't feel the need to justify their friendships, or get into shouting matches over them with their siblings. Secret lovers, however…
Jenny let her eyes fall shut, sadly resigning herself to the truth. It was one she had long recognized as possible, but had always hoped to never have to come to terms with. Now, though, it was unavoidable. She took her time, forcing her mind clear before she opened her eyes. She stared at him for a long time—his eyes were still lit afire, and everything about him spoke of his combativeness—but when she spoke, her voice was dull and quiet. She wondered if he could feel her disappointment, or if that was just her own guilt for not speaking to him sooner clouding over her world.
"How long have you been sleeping with her, Ryan?" She watched his face as she asked the question, watched as his mouth opened and closed, and in that time, she got all the answer she needed. She sighed, shutting her eyes. She didn't know if she felt more dismayed at his faults or her own. Why didn't you talk to him earlier? her mind screamed at her. Why didn't you look for him?
"No," he finally answered, and she nearly smiled at his denial. Of course he'd milk this for all it was worth. "No, it—" she could hear his voice shake, and she opened her eyes, looking over at him curiously, and she was surprised to see him having a difficult time responding. She had thought the truth would be easy for him after all the secrecy. "It's not like that. Jenny, it isn't like that between us."
"Of course it's like that," Jenny replied calmly, not even feeling the urge to yell anymore as she watched an array of confused expressions flicker across her brother's face at her response. She had to admit he was putting up a good front—then again, she reminded herself, that was part of his job. And he'd been treating her like work, it appeared, for months now. "You don't need to lie to me anymore, Ryan. You don't need to pretend not to know what I'm talking about or that your relationship with Claire isn't more than a friendship." She sighed, shaking her head. "I just need you to tell me—I need you to explain, Ryan—what the hell you think you're doing."
"I'm not doing anything, Jen," he replied at once.
"Ryan," she snapped immediately, her patience growing thin enough to break after all the chances she'd given him and then watched him throw away. "I am going to ask you one more time: What is going through your head here? What the hell are you thinking? When did things get so messed up that you thought it was appropriate to start screwing—"
"We didn't sleep together, Jenny!" he shouted, his screaming words catching her so off-guard that she was stunned speechless for a moment. He stared at her in the wake of his explosion—glaring—before whirling around and putting his back to her.
Jenny watched him as he paced, a quick circuit that looked to be more dizzying than calming, through the kitchen. Her eyes tracing over the curve of his tensed shoulders and the severe dip of his bent head before attempting to break the silence. "Okay," she called softly. "Okay, so you didn't sleep with her. You didn't do anything, fine. I—I believe you, Ryan."
He snorted from across the room, calling her bluff for what it was in record time, and where she'd just been about to give him a free pass, she was having trouble holding back now. Before she could stop to think, the words had poured out of her mouth, and once they were out, there was no taking them back: "But you wanted to, didn't you? You've wanted to sleep with her for months, haven't you? Probably since you met her." She shook her head. "God, I can't believe I was stupid enough to buy your bullshit about wanting to help her after Carroll was arrested. All you really wanted was—"
"Jenny, get the fuck out."
Jenny blinked, thrown for a loop by his profanity. In all the decades she'd known him, she'd only ever rarely heard him swear. The only occasions she could remember off the top of her head were when he'd been extremely angry. She stared at him now, her eyes locking with his across the room, and she knew this time was no different from all the others. She could almost see his nostrils flaring in fury.
"Didn't you hear me?" he demanded to know, not giving her time to recover in silence. "I said Get out, Jen." Jenny stared at him, still mute, as he continued. "Claire's a friend of mine—we are friends—and I don't need you coming in here and questioning that. I don't need you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, I don't need you making up shit or twisting my words to turn me into the bad guy or doing whatever it is that you do to convince yourself of these insane theories. I was happy to let you in here, Jen, you know? I really was. It was good to see you. But if the only reason you came was to lecture me on mistakes I haven't even made, then I don't want you here." He lifted a hand and pointed to the door. "You can go or you can stay, but I am done talking about Claire, got it?"
Jenny pursed her lips, pushing his threat for all it was worth, but finally she gave in, got to her feet, and slung her purse over her shoulder. "Fine," she called. "I'll go, if that's what you want." She paused, looking her brother over—the folded arms, the severe frown, the fury still clearly evident in his blue eyes—and added, because she knew he always hated it when she got the last word, "If you two really are just friends, I sure hope you're better at hiding your feelings around her than you are around me." She gestured to him up and down. "Because I can see it all there, Ryan, and let me tell you, it isn't going to end well for anybody."
She stared at him, giving him one last chance to explain, but he stayed silent as a stone, and so she turned away. She walked to the door, somehow feeling even more hopeless than she had before, and pulled it open. She'd just stepped over the threshold and was pulling the door closed behind her when she heard him call out to her, so much quieter than before.
"Can you really see it that easily?"
Jenny Hardy shut her eyes, squeezing them as she contemplated how well she could pull off just not hearing what he'd just said and walking away. She could leave, go to work, and ignore him like he'd ignored her—and she wanted to, god, she wanted to—but she knew this was his form of a confession mixed with a peace offering, and she knew it wouldn't come a second time. So she stepped back, and shut the door in front of her, but took her time before facing him again to gather her thoughts. She could hardly believe what he was saying—what he was practically admitting to and what he was asking for.
"Is it that obvious, or did you just say that to screw with me?" he pressed, and she could hear the anxiety that bled through his voice; it all but destroyed his usual confidence. "Did you mean it, Jen, or—"
"I meant it," Jenny answered softly. "I can see it." She turned, lifting her head and meeting his nervous gaze from across the room. She felt like she was delivering him a death notice when she told him, "And, Ryan, it's never going to work out between you two."
His mouth turned, opening and closing, as he searched for an appropriate rebuttal. When he couldn't come up with anything, he finally countered, "You don't know that, Jen."
She gave him a sad smile, taking a few steps towards him as she acknowledged his weak reply. They were less than twenty feet away now, but it still felt like there were miles between them. "Not for sure," she allowed, to soften the blow, "but Ryan, don't fool yourself into thinking that this will last long-term."
"It might."
Jenny closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Ry…" she sighed.
"You don't know, Jenny," he argued at once. "We get along. We really do. And you haven't even met her," he added, hurrying across the room. "Jen, if you met her, you'd know—"
"Ryan, I don't need to meet her," Jenny interrupted quietly, holding up her hands to keep him back. She looked down so she didn't have to see the hurt look on his face. "I don't need to meet her," she repeated quietly, "and I don't need to see you two together." She shook her head slowly, finally lifting it to meet his eyes. She tried not to let her face fall when she saw the hurt in his eyes at her assessment. "I just know, okay? And I'm sorry that I do, but trust me, Ryan… It's not going to work out. I know things might seem great now, but once the trial is in the past and once you and her start going back to your normal lives… Come on, think about it. What space do either of you have for each other?"
"We can make space," he excused.
"She has a kid, Ryan," Jenny reminded him sternly.
"Joey likes me," he replied at once.
Jenny sighed. "Can he even say your name, Ry?"
He looked away, turning his head so half his face was hidden from her, and Jenny wished she could take back what she'd said—or better yet, make it all a lie. She would love it if things would work out for them. Sure, the wife of a deranged serial killer wouldn't be her first choice for her brother, but he cared about her as much as he seemed to, then what did it matter?
"I wish I could say I was confident that things could work out for you two—or even that they might—but the reality is that this isn't reality, Ryan." She gestured around them. "This is all just one hellish nightmare, okay, and once it's over, what's left? What do you two have in common once Carroll's taken out of the picture?" Ryan opened his mouth to answer, but she ignored his attempt. "If you start something with her now, you're only going to live to regret it, Ryan. Once things go back to normal, you'll see that it isn't possible for you two to function together in the real world. You've been stuck in this case for too long—and I know, I know there's no way out right now—but you can't plan your life according to it. It will end, Ryan, and then you have to move on."
He stared at her for a very long time before asking quietly, "Well… Who's to say I can't move on with her?"
Jenny closed her eyes, biting back the groan that was threatening to rise to the surface. Again, she berated herself for not talking to him about this earlier. Maybe she could've fixed things before they'd gotten to this point. "If you really are her friend, Ryan, you'll let her make that decision, okay?" She looked over at him, and offered a sympathetic smile his way. "I know it's hard," she admitted. "I know it's really hard, but—if you really want to try with her—you need to give it a shot when things have gotten more normal."
She watched his expression contort at her advice—she could practically hear him demand More normal?!—but he managed to keep himself together as he asked, "Well, when's that going to be?"
"I don't know, Ryan."
"So you're telling me to wait indefinitely, then?" he persisted, and she could hear the disgruntled accusation in his voice. She took a moment to choose her words carefully before she spoke.
"I'm just asking you to be careful," she told him. "You're only going to get one shot at this thing with her and if you really want it, I don't want you doing it at the wrong time."
"You don't want me to do it at all," Ryan corrected.
Jenny sighed, meeting his eye. "No," she agreed. "No, I don't want you doing it at all."
"Then why are you helping me?"
"Because you asked," she replied at once. "Because you're my brother and you're in a tough spot." She sighed, finally confessing: "And because you're the only family I have left, Ryan. You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy."
"Even if it's with her?"
Jenny shrugged. "I'll take a look at the other contenders, if you want," she offered, knowing full well that there weren't any.
Ryan smirked at her teasing, and she caught his eye, smiling back. They enjoyed a quiet, calm moment together before he ducked his head, and shifted his weight nervously.
"You know, I'm sorry, Jen," he apologized. "I didn't mean to go crazy on you before—"
Jenny waved a hand. "It's okay," she replied. "I get it."
Ryan looked up at her, his shrewd eyes inspecting her. "You do?"
"Yeah," Jenny answered. She smiled faintly. "You're protective of her," she informed him. "That's good."
Ryan didn't reply, and after a few seconds, Jenny stepped away, plastering a quick smile on her face. "I should go," she excused. "I've got work soon and—"
"Oh, yeah." Ryan headed towards the door, ushering her towards it. "Don't worry about it."
Jenny stopped before they reached it, turning to face him. "You know," she told him, "it really was nice to see you again." She cracked a small smile. "Even if it did involve a good bit of yelling, I'm still glad we talked."
"Yeah, so you could set me straight," Ryan teased.
Jenny smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but before she could, another thought popped into her head. Her eyes flickered over her brother's face as the smile fell off of hers, and she studied him as she wondered curiously, "Ryan, you never mentioned how she feels. Do you know if…?" she trailed off, not having to finish the question.
Her brother shook his head slowly, looking away as he answered, "No, I don't know. We've never…" He glanced back at his sister, forcing a weak smile. "We're friends, you know? It's not exactly something we talk about."
Jenny nodded, digesting this. "How…" She paused, rolling her lips together and hoping she wouldn't regret living to hear the answer to this question: "How long have you felt like this, Ryan?"
"I…" He shrugged, helpless. "I don't know. I really don't know."
"A long time, then?" Jenny guessed quietly, eyeing him. Her brother didn't answer, but she didn't need anything more than the look on his face for confirmation. She sighed softly, reaching out and squeezing his arm. "Just give it some more time, all right?" she suggested, not knowing anything inspiring to say. "Maybe she'll come around."
"Yeah," Ryan muttered, avoiding her eye as he looked at the floor.
Jenny bit back a sigh, looking him over as he stood there, half-hunched over and looking more defeated than she'd seen him in a long time. Without a word, she pulled him into a hug, pressing her chin onto the top of his shoulder. "You're a good guy, Ryan. Keep being a good guy, okay?"
She didn't hear his response—it was too muffled for her to make out individual words—but she could feel him nod against her shoulder, and that was enough to know that he understood. She held him for a few seconds more before letting go, stepping back, and saying good-bye once again before finally leaving.
She walked to work then, feeling just as burdened as she had on her way to his apartment, but at least a bit less hopeless. She'd told the truth when she'd last spoken to him—he was a good guy—and even though she hadn't been able to talk him out of it, at least she'd showed him the right way to do things. She just hoped he'd have the patience, even after all this time, to wait until the appropriate moment.
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Author's Note: Well, damn, this thing went through way too many revisions for what was supposed to be an exercise. Though it went through four drafts to get to this point, I think I've finally landed on the version I like, and I hope you all think it turned out okay. :) Thank you for reading!
As always, reviews, feedback, comments, and constructive criticism are more than welcome! Please let me know what you thought of the story!