Sorry to once again mess with the publishing schedule. Due to having a suddenly busy schedule, I need to publishing tomorrow's chapter now. I hope you can forgive me.
Thank you for all the love on the last chapter (published on Sunday if you missed it). I hope you enjoy this one just as much!
"You look tired, Joe," Dr Miller remarked. "Have you been having trouble sleeping?"
"No," Joe replied, guardedly.
It was not the first time Dr Miller had noted the boy seemed more tired than most fourteen-year-old boys. But it was the first time he had felt free to ask about what the boy was sure to perceive as a weakness without Joe shutting down the entire session. The blond teenager was yet to storm out of his office (something Marsden knew was more down to a desire to please the Hardys and not his own skill) and he wanted to keep that record going for as long as possible.
Deciding not to press Joe if he wasn't ready to discuss how he slept, Dr Miller ran through his mental itinerary. At their last session, Joe had been telling him how he no longer called Laura and Fenton Mom and Dad. Miller was keen to investigate what Joe associated with those terms, and perhaps who, and was thinking they might try another word association game.
"Is it normal? For someone like me to have nightmares?" Joe asked, not meeting Miller's eye.
Miller studied the boy, desperate to find the right tactic to get the boy to open up more.
"Nightmares are almost expected when someone has gone through such a traumatic, stressful situation," Miller informed him.
Joe nodded. He stared down at his feet. Then he caught Miller's eye.
"I don't need much sleep. I never have. I can manage on a few hours fine."
"And you have tested that?" Miller questioned.
Joe bit his lip before nodding. He said it was expected of him. He had to be ready whenever Marsden needed him and still steal just as much if not more than the other teenagers in Marsden's gang.
"But nightmares... it's not proper sleep. Three hours of nightmares is not enough."
Miller nodded. He shifted about in his chair, wanting to ensure he was as comfortable as possible. Joe read into his every movement. He didn't want to be shifting around in front of the boy as he talked about his nightmares, didn't want any of his movements to spook the boy.
"Can you tell me about your nightmares?" Miller asked.
Joe frowned. He squirmed in his seat and glanced toward the door.
"You think you have a way of stopping them?" Joe asked.
"No," Dr Miller admitted. "Nothing about your situation has an immediate cure. But talking them through, talking about what might be causing them, we might be able to make progress."
Joe nodded. He sucked in a deep breath.
"Last night I... I had this dream and..."
Joe was running. His terrified pants rung in his ears, echoing through the narrow alleyway. There was shouts behind him. He didn't dare look over his shoulder but he was sure they were gaining on him. He could feel the ghosts of their hands reaching out to grab him.
A metal grate on the alleyway floor before him taking his attention. Joe raced toward it. He shuffled it out of the way, dropping down into the darkness beyond.
Joe had no clue where he was. A tunnel? A sewer? He didn't know. He didn't care.
He turned his gaze upwards, watching as dozens of grabbing hands reached through the narrow hole he had slipped through. Snarling voices filled the air, demanding he come back, vowing to tear him apart.
Joe swallowed thickly and began to shuffle down the long, pitch-black tunnel. He could hear movement all around him. It felt like at any second something would explode from the gloom to consume him.
"Please. Please." Joe whispered. "Just leave me alone."
He let one hand trail against the wall at his side, the other blindly groping at the air in front of him. He kept pressing forward, aware of how much he was shaking.
And then his hand in front brushed against something. Joe yelped, leaping back. It took him a second to realise what it was. A door handle. The cold metal felt like a salvation to Joe.
He grabbed the handle and threw the door open.
The room Joe stumbled into was one he recognised. It was Gloria's office in the Burrow. Joe felt relief wash over him. Gloria was a genuinely reasonable person, someone Joe trusted. She would shelter him until he could work out what to do.
It was then that Joe realised the office was completely empty. He was alone. That made his stomach churn. He had never found the Burrow spooky until he had to consider the idea he was there alone.
"Gloria?" Joe called.
No response. Not even the door being thrown open by one of the thugs who always guarded it.
Everything was untouched. No signs of a struggle or a hasty escape. Everyone was just gone.
Joe felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He turned toward the door he had entered from, desperate to know he could go back.
Only it was no longer there. He was met with a solid, art-deco wall.
"No," Joe whispered.
There had been a door. He'd come through a door.
Suddenly feeling very trapped, Joe decided he needed to find somewhere he could think things through. He didn't know who was chasing him, didn't know what had happened to Gloria. He needed to be somewhere he could lock a door, know he was going to be safe for a bit.
Joe raced around Gloria's desk. He reached into the draw he knew she kept the keys in. And stared. The boxes were gone. Gloria was always organised. She never let anyone take the boxes.
No clue what it could mean, Joe found his eyes drifting to the door out of Gloria's office, to the rest of the Burrow. He grimaced, sucked in a deep breath to steel himself and moved toward the door.
The long corridor was, like always, a sharp contrast to Gloria's office. It was so dark and lifeless, seemingly utterly empty. But there were the boxes. They were set out on the floor before him. Four boxes, each one labelled with a number to show how many people could stay in each room. Joe sprung toward the box labelled '2' desperate to find the key to the toadstool room. That was where he and Frank had stayed when they had come there. It felt like the only safe place.
But the box was empty.
Joe scrambled for the box before it. Empty. And the other.
All the boxes were empty. All the keys were missing.
Joe heard footsteps in the corridor. He looked up, sharply.
"Who's there?" he demanded, trying to make himself sound far braver than he really was.
There was no response. The footsteps had entirely cut out. Joe swallowed thickly.
"You're not fooling me. I know you're still there."
He picked up one of the boxes. They were made of a good quality wood, heavy. He could easily use one as a club if someone did decide to attack him.
He slowly crept forward, moving down the corridor. There were dozens of doors around him. The Burrow had never been that big. And each of the doors had keys in. Joe felt his insides jump for joy. He sprung toward the nearest door, throwing it open.
Still, seeing how the last door had disappeared on him, Joe didn't leave the doorway. Instead, he lingered, foot stopping the door from closing.
He was forced to squint against the gloom. Instinctively, Joe reached out to the side, going to turn on the lights. He tried to remember what theme the room should have. Some sort of Jurassic theme. Joe had never stayed in there but once, when Gloria had gotten tired of him not paying his bills, she had made him clean several of the rooms at gunpoint. That had been one of them.
Joe was expecting to see a fake jungle on the walls, model dinosaurs about the place, all lit by a custom lamp meant to give the place an outdoors feel. But the light didn't come on.
Joe realised there was no light switch beside him. In fact, the walls were bare, no decorations, no paint, nothing.
Joe felt his skin crawl, even more when he realised something was moving about in the gloom. He could hear metal scraping and clinking together, a groaning voice asking who he was.
And then something exploded from the darkness, ghostly white.
Joe leapt back, tripping. He dropped the wooden box he had collected as a weapon. He raised his hands to shield his face, a scream torn out of him.
But the thing couldn't get any closer. It thrashed against chains around its wrists, stopping it from escaping the room. Joe swallowed thickly as he battled to his feet, unable to look away.
Because it was him. There was no mistaking it. The creature he was looking at was him, a skinny, wild-eyed emaciated version of him, dressed in rags. But it was definitely him.
The creature snarled at him, tried to grab at him. Joe kept out of his reach and the thing seemed to understand. It stalked back into the darkness.
Joe grabbed the door handle, pulling the door shut. He locked it tightly, throwing the key far down the corridor.
His heart rate still hadn't returned to normal.
Because that had been him. How could that be him?
"I see you've met one of our new guests," a familiar voice said.
Joe turned sharply. Gloria was standing there, a crocodilian smile upon her face.
"He was me."
"Oh, they're all you. All the versions of you that could have been," Gloria told Joe as if it was obvious. "That's the Joe that Marsden didn't want, the one he locked away."
"Where's the version that stayed with the Hardys?" Joe asked.
"Do you really want to torture yourself with that?"
Joe looked away. Then he shook his head.
"Is there a room for me? One where I am back with the Hardys?" Joe asked.
With a smug expression, Gloria nodded. Joe felt a wave of relief sweep through him. If he could just get to that room, everything would be good again. He would be safe, with people who cared about him.
"Where is it?" he demanded.
"You're from a family of detectives," Gloria said. "Work it out."
Joe frowned. He took a moment, mentally listing all the rooms he knew had made up the Burrow. Given how the Burrow had been designed to cater for criminals, there wasn't exactly one themed around cops or detectives. But there had been a knight-themed one that might encapsulate the nobleness and heroic tendencies of the Hardys. Joe had rather liked that room too. There had been a wooden training dummy for him to attack with a blunt sword.
But then a new idea came to mind, one that Joe could immediately tell was the correct answer.
The Toadstool room.
That was where he and Frank had stayed and he was sure that was where his family were going to be then.
"The Toadstool room," Joe said. "Where is it?"
"Don't you remember? Hardly much of a Hardy if you can't even find a room."
Joe glowered at Gloria. He turned on his heel, screwing his eyes shut tightly. He had been in the Burrow more than enough times. He knew it well. He would be able to find his way around, even if the rooms didn't seem to be exactly in the right place.
Then Joe set off.
Each room he passed made Joe's hair stand on end. He could hear voices. Marsden was shouting behind one. Behind another Joe heard his own furious voice. He heard screaming behind one.
And all had their keys in. A few Joe locked, threw the key away. He's done it to the one he had heard screaming from behind. Same with another where he had heard his own voice sounding so twisted and monstrous, discussing murder as calmly as the weather.
"You have a lot of options," Gloria remarked. "A lot of lives you could have led, a lot you could still choose."
She was following him, her stiletto heels chipping away at the floor as she moved. Joe did all he could to ignore her. She was trying to mess with his head. Joe didn't know why. He honestly didn't think it mattered. He just needed to keep going, keep focused on getting to the Hardys.
They would know what to do, know how to escape the house of horrors the Burrow had become.
"Oh, I particularly like this one," Gloria said. "In this one, you break Marsden out of jail and the two of you live as fugitives."
Joe didn't want to let her know she had managed to strike a chord but he was unable to stop himself from wheeling about to snap at her to leave it. He was glad he did. Because Gloria was reaching out toward the door.
"Don't you dare," Joe snarled.
Gloria scoffed but carefully removed her hand.
"Don't worry," she told him. "It's not the room I would pick for you."
She began to move toward him and Joe sharply turned back. He kept going, relieved when he saw the right corridor for the Toadstool room. He rushed toward the door, grabbing the handle, going to throw it open and rush into the arms of the Hardys.
The door didn't open.
It was locked.
Joe reached for the key but, unlike all the other doors, it wasn't in the lock. He could hear the laughter from inside. It was beautiful laughter, kind and loving. It wasn't just the Hardys either. He could hear the Mortons and Biff, the wonderful time they must be having.
"Hey, I can't get in," Joe called them. "There's no key."
The laughter stopped. Joe felt his heart quicken. They had heard him.
"The key? Oh, I gave it to the man across the hall," Frank said through the door. "He said he wanted to see you."
Joe frowned. He turned, staring at the door opposite him. There was a key in the lock and Gloria was once more reaching toward the door. Swallowing thickly, Joe told himself he would just have to face it. He needed that key.
Gloria opened the door to show Joe gloom beyond. He steeled himself, stepping into the room.
The gloom seemed endless. Joe had no clue where the very limited lighting was coming from but Joe almost wished it wasn't there. Because he could see people around him, frozen like statues with agonised expressions on their faces. Joe slowly moved between them, looking for whoever Frank might have given the key to.
His stomach churned with each person he passed but Joe forced himself to press on. He'd get the key and get out.
The door was still there. He could glance back and see it.
"Come on, Joe," he quietly encouraged himself.
And then he saw it. A desk. It was a very old desk, beautifully ornate. And Joe could see someone sitting at it. He couldn't see their face, just their hands and the sleeves of the white suit they wore. They were playing with a key that had a toadstool keyring attached.
It was the key Joe needed.
"Hello, Joseph," a voice greeted.
Joe felt himself freeze.
He knew that voice. Mr Mauve.
"Your brother is so kind to hand you over to me," Mr Mauve said, standing. "But then again, you are a lot of trouble, aren't you? Marsden knew how to handle you. You need violence and threats to keep you in line. The Hardys… Well, they aren't prepared to do what is necessary."
Mr Mauve stood. He circled around his desk, approaching Joe. Somehow, no matter how the man moved, his face never moved into the light. Joe could see his skinny body, see the mauve tie, the only colour against his entirely white suit and shirt. Mr Mauve held the key, letting it clink together as he walked.
He stopped, sitting on his desk, holding out the key.
"Go on then, take it," he said.
But Joe couldn't move. He felt just as still as the people he had passed.
Mr Mauve chuckled darkly to himself. He reached out, curling Joe's hand around the key.
"You've got the key," he told him. "Go on, run back to your family."
Joe's every fibre screamed as they tried to move. He pleaded with his muscles to respond. But he stayed frozen there, unable to move even as Mr Mauve carded a hand through his hair in a mockery of the loving way Laura did it.
"You can't do it, can you? Because you know deep down this is where you belong."
Mr Mauve smiled, moving just far enough into the light that Joe could see his gleaming, shark-like teeth.
Joe could feel the cold of the key against his palm. His every thought shouted at him to just turn and run. Mr Mauve reached out once more, turning Joe's head from side to side. Joe felt like he was being studied by an art critic.
"Joseph Mauve? What do you think? You are so desperate for a family after all."
There was sound at the door. Joe couldn't turn to look. But he sensed Mr Mauve's eyes moving from him.
"Oh. Gloria. Yes, I've got all I need. You can shut the door."
Joe heard the whine of the door shutting, felt the room getting darker. And then it shut completely and Joe was sent tumbling into darkness.
"And that's when I woke up," Joe said.
Dr Miller had been silent the entire time Joe had told him about the night. Joe had almost wished he would interrupt, give some clue as to what he was thinking. But he was also relieved. To talk through one of his nightmares from start to finish… It had been something he had sorely needed.
"And this figure, Mr Mauve, is he a real person or some bogeyman you have created?" Dr Miller asked.
"Oh, he's real," Joe remarked.
He had only dared to tell Dr Miller about Mr Mauve because he knew that the doctor wasn't going to tell anyone. Nor was he like Fenton Hardy, the sort who would run off to stop him.
"Can you tell me about him?" Dr Miller said.
"It's dangerous to know about him."
"And that is why you're so terrified of him?" Dr Miller questioned.
Joe paused.
"Because I know about him or because it is dangerous to know about him?" Joe asked.
He knew the doctor had not followed his line of questioning. He took a deep breath.
"I would have been scared of him whether or not he went after the people who know about him. He's… He has his finger in almost every criminal pie in America. He owns people in the government. He has enough weapons and men to overthrow a small country. Not that he'd want to since he already owns his own private island where he disappears people to to work as his slaves."
Joe could see Dr Miller paling at the thought.
"And how do you know so much about him?" Joe asked.
"Marsden used to do deals with him. They'll sell stolen goods for each other. Marsden would… Some of the kids who worked for Marsden would 'graduate' into working for Mr Mauve. In fact…"
"You were meant to be one of those kids?" Dr Miller asked when Joe trailed off.
Joe nodded mutely. He shifted in his seat before meeting Dr Miller's gaze.
"Mr Mauve knew who I was from the moment Marsden took me. I don't know if Marsden told him or if he worked it out but… He wanted me. He offered Marsden a lot of money to get his hands on me. But Marsden kept me, argued that clearly there was potential if Mr Mauve wanted me so badly. If Mr Mauve had gone after me properly, Marsden wouldn't have stood a chance. I would have been… I don't even know why Mr Mauve wants me. Some hostage against Fenton? An apprentice? I don't think he's married or has any kids. I thought maybe it was just a power play when I was growing up, Mr Mauve keeping Marsden in line by saying he'd take his kid if he stepped out of line."
Miller paused before saying that implied Joe had changed his mind.
"Now, I think Marsden was only ever meant to be the babysitter until Mr Mauve decided I was old enough for him to look after. I mean, the guy's running a criminal empire. What's he going to do with a four-year-old?"
Miller sat back. Joe could tell he had really thrown him with everything about Mr Mauve.
"Do the Hardys know about him?" the therapist asked.
"Frank does," Joe said. "None of the others. The more people who know, the more reason Mr Mauve has to come after us. And Frank only knows Mr Mauve exists. He doesn't know who he is. Well, he knows Mr Mauve tried to kidnap us. But that wasn't a real kidnapping attempt. He was testing us, testing me. If he wanted either of us kidnapped for real, he would have us by now."
Miller took a deep breath.
"Well, I am afraid I can not help you with your Mr Mauve situation. In fact, I should be reporting this to the police but-"
"No!" Joe shouted, getting to his feet. "You tell the police he's going to think I told them, or I told you to tell them and then I am going to end up burying everyone I care about and spending the rest of my very short life being tortured on his island!"
Miller allowed Joe a moment to calm down, reaching out a placating hand toward him.
"I was going to say I feel like it is in your best interest to not have the police know about the situation. It feels safest for everyone. But… you have to promise me you be careful."
"Always," Joe said.
"And I think I can at least help with other aspects of your nightmare. All the doors… They were symbols of the lives you could have possibly led. And you seem scared to confront them."
"They aren't good lives."
"Well, perhaps, it might do you some good to explore them. Your mind seems to have decided that all these lives are readily available to you. You could simply pick one and follow that path. The only life that you don't seem to feel like you have free access to is your life with the Hardy. You view Mr Mauve as an obstacle to that life. Maybe, as you work to settle into your life with the Hardys and understand Marsden can't keep you from them, it might do you some good to explore these other lives you feel like you might have led. Give you a chance to reject them on your own terms."
Joe paused, meeting Miller's eye. He nodded, saying he would like that.
"Then, I suppose we should work out how best you think we can do that," the therapist said.
He leant forward, studying Joe closely.
"Also, Joe, I think part of the reason that so many criminals are interested in you is because you are a truly remarkable young man, one they would rather have on their side than not. Remember that. You have far more power and agency than they would lead you to believe."
Would people be interested in reading a chapter or two about Joe writing out his own accounts of what he thought his life would be like if various events had not happened (there wouldn't be a chapter about him growing up with the Hardys though)? It feels like an interesting exercise but I don't want to make you suffer through something so meta as an AU within an AU if you aren't interested in it.
Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please consider leaving a review!