The Following

Season 3

Episode 1:

Marko Luko

Mark stood beside the bed staring at his brother's bloody body with an emotionless expression. He swallowed with uncertainty and closed both of his fists as tightly as he could trying to control his anxiety. On the outside he stood still like a statue, but on the inside he was about to explode. His thoughts were flying a mile a minute.

He isn't dead. He will wake. I know it. The bullet just grazed him.

The bullet wound on his head, continued to leak out a trail of blood staining the white pillow, while blood from other wounds staining the blanket as well.

He is just sleeping. He looks so peaceful despite all the blood.

Mark wasn't sure what to do. He began to count under his breath waiting, hoping, and praying that Luke would open his eyes. He would smile at him and then crack a joke to relax him. He would tell him that everything was alright.

Luke was always good at that. Whenever he was having an anxiety attack, his brother was always there to help him relax. His calming smile and authoritative demeanor seemed to help take control of any situation..

Mark thought back to when they were ten years old and playing in the woods behind their large home. Their mother was at an art convention and it was the first time that she left them by themselves.

The weather was cold and rainy and Mark and Luke were playing hide and seek in the woods with fake guns, even though their mother had told them to stay inside. She had rented movies for them and just bought them a new game system. They played video games for a while and watched a movie, but soon Luke grew restless and wanted to play outside.

Mark was counting to twenty, while Luke ran to hide. It took a few moments, but soon Luke found a spot beneath a tree that had fallen over years ago. He peeked through the branches as he watched Mark from the distance. He had his hand covering his mouth to stop himself from making any noises.

Mark finished counting and began to search for Luke, but couldn't find him right away. He looked behind trees for a few moments before he realized that maybe his brother had climbed a tree and was hiding there. He began to search high and low hoping to see him but couldn't find him. He knew that there was no way that he was hiding in the house. He would have seen him leave the woods since he was counting by the entrance.

After a while, his excitement of trying to find his brother turned to extreme worry. Sometimes when they played in the house, he could hear his brother moving around or even laughing. Every once in a while he could hear his breathing. But that was extremely rare. The more they played hide and seek, the better they got at hiding. This was definitely one of those times.

He called out to his brother, but didn't expect him to answer. It would be a silly thing to do so. He didn't hear laughter, breathing or movement of any kind. He had no idea where his brother was hiding.

Luke watched his brother from his hiding spot and could see how worried he was. His brother kept walking in circles calling out to him his voice high and whiny. In the beginning of the search, his brother held his gun high anxiously waiting for him to dart out of hiding, but as the time passed, he lowered the gun and he seemed to have lost the fun.

Luke knew how his brother was and how anxious he could sometimes be, so he decided to end the game. He crawled out of the hiding spot and slowly hid behind another tree. He saw his brother a few feet away walking in the opposite direction. He was so oblivious to Luke, that he didn't hear his brother approach him.

"Got ya," Luke said with a laugh as he pointed the gun at him.

Mark spun around and looked at his brother fearfully. "It sucks out here Luke," He said shaking his head, "It is so much better in the house."

"Don't worry," Luke said with a smile. "This time it is your turn to hide and I will find you."

"No," Mark shook his head. "I don't want to."

"Oh come on," Luke began to beg. "It will be fun. The more you play, the better you will get."

"Let's go inside," Mark anxiously said. He turned toward the house. "Mother will be home soon."

"Don't worry," Luke said taking a step toward his brother. He reached out and gently grasped his elbow. "She will not find out about this."

Mark sighed and then looked his gun. "Fine," He said not really in the mood. "Start counting."

Mark's blinked away the memory and then reached out grasping his brother's cold hand. He held it against his heart for a few moments, before letting go of it. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wet it, and then returned to the bedside.

He sat on the bed and began to wipe the blood of his brother's face.

He is not dead. He is not. I will clean the blood and he will be fine. I just know it.

"Oh brother," Mark softly said with hope. "Everything will be okay. I promise you that. I am here for you."

Ryan walked out of the elevator and took a deep breath as he approached Gina's hospital room. There were two agents posted by the entrance that allowed him to pass. He entered it and was relieved to see her sitting up in bed watching a new report about Joe's arrest. She saw him enter and then smiled at him as he approached the bed.

"Ryan, what a surprise," She said happy to see him.

"Hey," He said eyeing her. She looked well after the injuries she sustained. "How are you feeling?"

Gina chuckled and touched her stomach where she had been stabbed. "I have been better," She said with a small shrug.

"Well you look well," Ryan said.

"I look like crap," She said with an exasperated laugh, "I have been stuck in here for too long and am anxious just to get out." She looked Ryan up and down. "You don't look much better."

"Been pretty busy," Ryan said glancing at the TV. There was a car commercial on with the Muppets promoting the new movie.

"That is true," She said glancing at the TV briefly. "You know I never thanked you."

"Thanked me?" Ryan looked at her confused.

"You saved my life," She said with a smile. "So thank you."

"It comes with the job," Ryan said without thinking. Oh damn, why didn't I just say thank you.

"You're welcome," She said with a wink. "I also owe you another thanks and more apologies than a person can give in a lifetime."

Ryan stepped closer to the bed. "You do?" He asked confused.

"Ryan," Gina said shifting in her spot. She winced when there was a sudden sharp pain in her gut. "When I first met you, I thought of you as a good for nothing drunk who was constantly in the way. I knew you had become personally attached to the Joe Carroll case and I should have trusted you from the get go."

"It is okay," He simply said.

"No it isn't," She said shaking her head. She swallowed away her guilty feeling. "I guess being on death's row has opened my eyes to many things." She paused and pointed to the TV. "Hell you single-handed caught Joe Carroll for the second time."

"I wasn't the only one," Ryan shook his head. "The FBI really helped. If it weren't for them," He stopped mid-sentence not wanting to continue.

"Listen to me Ryan," Gina seriously said, "You did an amazing thing there. Yes the FBI helped, but it was you who caught that bastard." She paused and touched the bandage on her stomach. "I know it sounds cheesy, but you are a hero here."

"You are right Gina that does sound cheesy," He said with a laugh.

"Oh shut up," Gina joined in his laugh.

"Thank you though," Ryan said with a smile. "It means a lot."

This was a side of her that he hadn't seen before. She was usually so formal and to the point of things. He hardly saw her smile. In fact, he saw her smile more in the last few minutes, then he had ever seen her do so since they had first met.

"Now that he is in prison," She said with a relieved sigh. "I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest."

With death a new life is born.

"Very poetic," Gina said with a raised eyebrow, "But what doesn't it mean?"

"Huh," Ryan said confused. It took him a few moments to realize he had said that out loud. "Oh sorry," He said embarrassed, "It was something Joe once told me." He paused and sighed loudly, "I know Joe was a nutcase and as misguided as they come, he was right about something."

"How so?" She asked confused.

"Well with Joe behind bars and for a long time I might add," Ryan began, "And with the cults broken up, as well as Lilly in custody, it seems as if this whole thing is over and dead. With death a new life is born."

"You don't look too convinced," She said taking note of his doubt.

"Not when it deals with Joe or Lilly," He said with a sigh. "They themselves may be momentarily out of the picture, but I doubt it will remain that way." He cleared his throat loudly. "There will always be another threat that will either be idolizing them or personally involved with them. Either way, as much as I hate to say this, I doubt this is all over."

"Well I hope you are wrong," She said recognizing the truth behind his words.

"Yeah me too," He said locking eyes with her.

Mike pulled up to the cemetery entrance and turned off the car. He peered through his window at all the head stones and sighed. The image of Mark slitting his father's throat was still fresh in his mind. He could still hear all the gruesome gurgling sounds his father made, the twisted smile Lily gave the camera when her son slit his throat, and those mocking words she said to him before the camera cut out.

Those grisly images were embedded in his mind constantly fluttering in his brain like a bird trapped in a small room struggling to fly out. He wasn't sure how much longer he could control his emotions anymore. Those images would stay there until the day he died. Shooting Lily did make him feel a bit better and he knew that it would never bring him back. As much as it helped, it did not bring any closure to what occurred. He didn't know if he would feel any closure of any kind.

Now that he was at the cemetery all he could think about was not that his father was at peace, but that he was buried six feet under. It tore him up inside. One second his dad was alive and part of his life, then not even seconds later, he was taken away from him. A piece of his life was now gone and what replaced it was a dark void that threatened to take over at any possible second.

"Hey Mike," Max gently called out to him breaking his thoughts.

"What?" He asked looking at her.

"Are you okay?" She asked looking at him concerned.

"Yes," He said knowing that it was a lie. He smiled at her trying to hide his true feelings. It seemed to him that he was doing that quite often these days.

Max reached out and grasped his hand. "Are you sure?" She asked emotionally.

Mike licked his lips and then cleared his throat. "No I am not," He shook his head. "I want him back."

"I know you do," She said letting go of his hand. She caressed his cheek. "And I know what you are going though."

"It's a bitch isn't it," He said with a depressed chuckle.

"It always is," She gently said. "But you will get through this." She removed a strand of hair that fell on her face. "You are tough."

"Thanks," He said glad that she was here to calm his nerves.

"It's true you know," She said with a smile. "My Uncle has been through some serious crap, especially lately and somehow, he always manages to pull through it." She paused and squeezed his hand affectionately. "You are like him you know."

"That is what Joe told me," He said with a thin smile. "On more than one occasion actually. But I definitely like hearing it from you than him."

Mike looked away from Max and into the cemetery. He sighed not wanting to go in. He wanted to drive away and leave it all behind him. He didn't want to mourn his father's death just yet, rather he wanted to go and find Mark. He wanted to kill him and he wanted to do it now.

"Okay let's go," He said hastily as he turned on the car.

"Not so fast," Max said shaking her head. "We came here for a reason and I am not going to let you leave so fast."

Mike sighed and turned off the engine. He looked at Max and then said, "Fine, let's go in."

Mike removed the keys and stepped out of the car. He glanced at Max quickly, locking eyes with her, before he slowly entered the cemetery with her following closely behind. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he slowly made his way up to his father's burial spot. When he got there, he stared at the stone for a few moments as his eyes welled up. He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't find the right words. Instead, he felt his knees go weak and collapsed to the ground.

Max reached out to him, but he held out his hand halting her.

"Oh dad," He finally said in a shaky voice as the tears poured down his face. He touched the head stone, tracing his father's name. "Oh dad, why did you have to go?"

Mike took a deep breath and then made a fist. He knew that his line of work was dangerous. He parents were constantly asking if he was alright and continuously worried about him. They feared that they would get a call that something had happened to him. He always told them that they had nothing to worry about, but he knew how silly that sounded. There was always a threat looming around when it came to his work.

As dangerous as his job was, he loved it. That was until his father was ruthlessly murdered on camera. Now his pure motive was to avenge the ones involved. It may not be the smartest thing to do, nor the right thing to do, but it was what was needed to be done.

He didn't want to hesitate like Ryan did when it came to Joe. He had the gun aimed at him and he should have pressed the trigger ending all the violence and threats, but he didn't. Instead he allowed Joe to live and rot away in prison. That was unless someone would break him out. It happened once and it could happen again.

Mike wiped the tears away and began to utter a prayer. He wasn't the most religious of men, but he felt it was something that needed to be done. When he finished he leaned close kissing the head stone. He then stood up and turned toward Max who was watching him teary eyed.

"Okay let's go," He simply said.

"Are you sure?" She asked him. "We could stay a little longer if you want."

Mike looked at the stone again as he wiped the tears away. "Nope, I am good," He said taking her hand. "Come on I could use a cup of coffee. You want one?" He looked at her.

"Yes," She said smiling at him, "I could always use a cup.

Loud metal music blasted in the sound proof room. At the far end of it there was a man unconscious chained from the ceiling, while another man paced around him with a beer in his hand. He took a sip and then belched softly as the chained man groaned.

"Oh goodie," He said cheerfully. "You are awake."

"Huh," The man stammered as he eyed the man in front of him through blurred vision.

"Oh right," He said taking another chug of beer. He pointed to the bloody cut on the man's head. "That looks like it hurt," He took a step toward him. "Did it?"

"Yes," He said in a low voice.

"Good," He said with a smile. He took another step toward him. "The name is Genji, what is yours?"

"Brandon," He said looking around the room.

The sound proof room was brightly lit filled with heavy metal posters covering every inch of the wall. At one of the room was a cluttered desk filled with papers and magazines of all sorts. Next to it was a faded and torn up leather couch that had seen better days. A well-stocked fridge faced the couch and beside that was a bookshelf filled with DVDs and books.

Genji reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. He opened it and read the ID. "Yep," He said in a mocking tone. "Your name checks out. You are who you say you are." He tossed the wallet aside and drank the rest of the beer. He then tossed the beer aside hearing it shatter as it struck the floor.

"What do you want?" Brandon weakly asked.

"There are many things I want," Genji said in a giddy tone. He spread his arms wide, "Too many things that it would take too long to tell you." He took a step toward Brandon. "But there is one really important thing I need from you."

"And what is that?" Brandon asked looking at him confused.

Genji didn't answer right away. He walked around Brandon as he pulled a switch blade out of his pocket. He flicked it open and stared at the blade as it gleamed brightly in the light like a star in a clear nighttime sky. He traced its handle affectionately almost as if he and the knife had some intimate bond.

"You see," Genji whispered into his ear. "I want sacrifice." He paused and place the blade an inch away from his eye. "And well you will be the lamb."

Brandon cried out as Genji stabbed him in the gut and then sliced to his right and then left. He then leaned close to him feeling the warm blood ooze on to his body. He looked into the man's eyes watching every second as his life slowly drained away from him. When his head went limp, Genji stepped away from the bloody body to inspect his work.

"Thank you Brandon," Genji said with a small bow pleased at what he accomplished so far. There was still one more thing that he needed to do. "You have helped me in more ways than you realize."

Genji folded his knife and then pocketed it. He reached out touching Brandon's wound filling his hand with blood. He sniffed his hand enjoying the coppery smell it had. He then dropped to floor a few feet away and began to write a note in blood. When he finished, he wiped the blood off his hands on to his pants and then approached his backpack. He pulled out a Joe Carroll mask and then put it on Brandon's face. He touched the cut again staining his fingers with blood.

"This is for you Joe," He said drawing the letter 'X' over each of the mask's eyes. "This is for you."

Hope you enjoyed!

-shaw18