Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with TNA. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.
Chapter Content & Trigger Warnings:

Chapter 19

Jacques Fournier's black designer dress shoes clacked against the hard floor of his lab as he paced back and forth across it, and upon losing his patience further, he shot over to his desk in the corner of the room. He would have called the large work area his lab and office. His employees—on the other hand—would call it his chamber of obsession.

In the office area, he had a menagerie of photos, and information on not only the Roberts family, but Jeff Jarrett's family and friends, as well. He'd hired a shady, yet competent photographer—Jackson Graves—to be his own private photographer. The seedy paparazzi had no qualms about photographing Ella, or her family and friends. As he promised Fournier, Graves had returned with numerous photos of the girl walking into her school, laughing with friends at the mall, family picnics she went on with her parents and her uncle's family, he'd also snapped photos of Ella at Joe Seanoa's house three years prior. One was taken outside a window and showed Ella dancing with Joe in a party-like atmosphere. Another showed her laughing and enjoying herself with a couple of her female friends, and another showed her in a hammock being held by another of her male friends as she wept and looked to be confiding in him about something which troubled her. The photographer even had photos—due to arrive at any moment—of the interior of Joe's hotel room from the night before. And from what the shutterbug told him, Fournier knew he wasn't going to like what he saw.

The psychotic botanist also had files upon files of information on Ella—her schedules, what she usually did on weekends, whether her parents were with her, and such notes. He had recently accumulated photos of Jeff's employees as well, once he noticed how close Ella seemed with some of them. He had wondered, however, as close as she'd been with them, why she'd not had much contact with them in the past three years—not since she'd left the Seanoaes' home. Jacques' instincts told him something had gone wrong between her and Joe. But he had no idea what it could have been. If I could only find out what happened, he thought with frustration, and use it to my advantage.

He hadn't realized how much difficulty he'd endure in trying to capture Ella. He knew she was loved and doted upon by her parents, and by her uncle and aunt. What he hadn't counted on however, was the love for Ella which extended all the way from her uncle's employees. It made things tricky. And Jacques Fournier didn't like 'tricky'. He wanted to get the job done the first time, with no complications.

He failed once—he wouldn't do it again.

And if he did, there would be dire consequences for the person who got in his way.

His lab area held a refrigerator for the drugs and toxins he produced as well as several lab tables, microscopes, and any other equipment he needed to create some of the most deadly toxins in the world. And they were all for Ella. Or for the purpose of having her in his possession, rather. Fournier had reserved the poisons and drugs for anyone who got in his way when it came to exacting his revenge, and receiving his recompense. He knew he'd need to be prepared to get rid of anyone who interfered with his plans. Therefore, he chose a method he knew the most about—fungi and bacteria. There were many creative ways to kill a person with those two life forms.

Luckily, my supply is still stocked well since I only needed them—so far—to off that drunken driver years ago. But, I don't want to think about him. Not now—not ever again. Fournier began to wonder if he would need to use the poisons next, on Ella's boyfriend. Joe Seanoa, he recalled, beginning to go through a potential mental hit list. I'll possibly need to kill her uncle also—Jeff Jarrett. And maybe even that meddling male friend of hers. AJ? Yes, AJ Styles, I believe is his name.

Now, as he sat down in his desk chair he frowned, wondering why he'd not received a call from Red Miller. The hit man had made it clear he would call by noon to inform Fournier of when Ella would be ready to collect.

It was now five in the evening.

He'd tried calling the man's cell number using his own disposable cell phone—to avoid being traced—but Red's phone was apparently turned off, seeing as it went straight to voicemail. Something obviously went wrong.

Fournier looked up at his menagerie of photos, and then shifted his icy gaze over to the right and watched eight different monitors for any activity at the Jarrett's home.

He'd hired some extremely skilled—and equally shady—men to wire several tiny cameras on the wrestling veteran's land before the New Year's Eve party. And because of those cameras, he'd known everything going on—right down to what time Nina Jarrett planned on putting their little girls to bed. The almost non-existent cameras were scattered through the Jarrett's property—on the winding road leading to the home, in a couple of trees near the mansion itself, one outside the garage, a couple that were deeper in the woods. There was also one on Ella's balcony, and one was even designed to be attached to her French doors with the intention of spying on her in her room.

What with Red's inexplicable neglect, Fournier realized he should have watched yesterday's footage long before. He cued up the footage to view. When he heard a knock at his door, he grew frustrated and slammed his fist onto his desktop. "What is it," he demanded, turning toward the door. He watched as his secretary timidly opened his door and entered the office.

"Your photographer—Mr. Graves—is here to see you, sir."

"Send him in," Fournier said, his tone brightening just a little.

In the next instant, the short and thin, Jackson Graves entered and approached Fournier with a manila envelope. "Good evening, Mr. Fournier," he said. "They were difficult to attain, but I have the promised photos, as well as some actual footage of Miss Roberts, and Mr. Seanoa in his hotel room." Worried over his boss' reaction to the footage, the man began to ramble. "I can't promise how clear the images will be for you—since I had to get the shots through an air vent—but I think you will find them to your satisfaction. However, there is a part of the footage that you can't really see anything. You can only...hear them."

"Hear them," Fournier questioned. His blue eyes growing even more cold. "What do you mean?"

The photographer took a deep breath and continued. "I saw them go into the bedroom and I lost visual. But I could hear their voices."

He practically cringed as Fournier snatched the envelope from him.

"Fine. I have your payment right here. Twenty thousand is the fee we agreed upon, correct," Fournier asked as he reached for a brief case.

"Yes, that's correct." At that point, Graves just wanted out of the room as soon as possible. Preferably before Fournier could see the photos and video, he thought. The minute the case was in his hands, he was thanking Fournier for the job and payment, and was hurrying out of the office.

Fournier looked back at his computer monitors and began watching footage from the time Ella arrived at the Jarretts' mansion. He focused on the footage from Ella's bedroom and held his breath as it began playing. He fast-forwarded the footage till he saw Ella and Nina Jarrett enter the room and sit down on her bed, then fast forwarded again till her aunt left the room and Joe came in moments later.

Fournier knew, as he watched Joe enter the room in fast motion, that things were going to heat up quickly. He hit play, and listened to their conversation. He heard Joe ask her how she was doing, but he couldn't make out Ella's answer. He did, however, hear when Joe told her he loved her. Ella returned the phrase with no hesitation, Jacques bitterly noted. "You may love him, but you belong to me."

As he continued to listen to Ella and Joe's conversation, and saw them begin kissing, he fought to keep his rage in check. That is, until he heard Joe tell her he'd propose when things calmed down.

"Sur mon corps mort," Fournier shouted. "I'd as soon kill her before I let that happen!" He watched then as Ella and Joe's conversation progressed to a few kisses before Joe stopped them. He listened as he heard Joe say softly, "I'm really wanting us to make out like we did last night. But I don't know if doing that under your uncle's roof is a good idea."

"Last night," Fournier raged. "And what exactly did they do last night?" In a fit of uncontrollable fury, he knocked the monitor off his large desk and relished in the sound of it shattering. Now, I want to see what went on in that hotel room.

He tore into the envelope and yanked the photos and recording out, inspecting them. The photos were in color, and the footage was on a disc, which he immediately inserted into his computer. Then he flipped through the photos and grew more enraged by the second. He saw Ella in Joe's arms while they sat on the sofa. It wasn't a friendly embrace either. It was a lover's embrace. The next photo showed them kissing. And then the next one had Fournier speechless and furious. He looked at the last image and then flung the pile of photos across the room.

Seanoa was carrying Ella to a bedroom.

"Dead man," Fournier growled. Il est un cadavre! He is not going to take what's mine!"

Losing control, he scrambled to play the footage on the disc Graves had provided. He watched as Joe and Ella sat on the sofa with a movie playing. He fast-forwarded till he saw Joe carry Ella to the bedroom and then hit play.

He was greeted by the sound of passionate kisses and heavy breathing.

Having seen and heard more than enough, Fournier was livid. He quickly shut off the video and rubbed his temples, trying to fend off the headache forming behind his eyes.

I could handle it better if it was merely a case of hormones, he thought. But there was no mistaking the passion and love in the couple's voices and actions. Not to mention Joe's promise to propose to her in the future. He loved her. And Ella loved him. Love was dangerous. "I have to do something," he said through clenched teeth, as he remembered how the lovers held each other. "He's going to ruin everything if I don't."

His blood boiling, he sped through the useless parts of the Jarrett footage, and watched each video. He saw footage of Ella leaving her room and heading to the woods—which was no surprise to him. He'd known that would be the first thing she'd do upon arriving at her new home.

But what he saw next shocked him, and made him realize he'd underestimated Ella Roberts. He saw her violently attack Red Miller—first hitting him with a rock. As he saw and heard Red's gun fire off, out of reflex, he made a mental note that the man would pay for taking such a risk of shooting Ella. He watched as she kicked him in the midsection, and stomped his hand. Then Red swept her legs out from under her, and smacked her across the face. That alone was enough to make Fournier decide to kill the hit man. He realized he might have to resort to violence against Ella, but no one else was permitted to hurt her.

Grinding his teeth, he prepared to further research the Jarrett's routines, and began watching the remaining videos. He had just hit play on the camera above the garage, when there was another knock at the door.

"Yes," he called out, preoccupied with the tapes. "Come in."

"Sir…" he heard his secretary say softly, "I just came to inform you—it's all over the news—one of your…employees," the young woman enunciated, unsure of how to refer to the hit man, "Mr. Miller has been arrested."

Fournier sighed, and reached for the remote control to his television, "Yes, I'm not surprised. Thank you, Melinda."

The secretary hurried from the room as Jacques switched the television on and located the news. He quickly found a news report on the local station showing Red handcuffed to a gurney and being loaded into an ambulance. A reporter spoke over the feed:

"Mark Miller was arrested yesterday morning on the property of Jeff and Nina Jarrett. According to authorities, Miller was hired to kidnap the Jarrettes' niece, eighteen-year-old Ella Roberts. Only a month ago, Ella survived multiple gunshot wounds, and a severe beating after a kidnapping attempt went wrong. On the very same night, she witnessed her parents—"

Fournier switched off the television, disgusted with the whole situation. So, Miller had spilled his guts, he thought. Obviously, I didn't make it clear enough how dangerous I am. He looked over at his refrigerator then, eyeing the different poisons and bacteria he'd created. No, those won't do. Miller needs something a little morespecial.

With that, he grabbed some materials and began working on his newest creation.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Ella could hear her heart thundering in her ears, and felt a throbbing pain behind her eyes as she ran through the woods. She dove behind a large tree and listened for footsteps following her. She'd run all the way from the mansion, after witnessing her entire family being slaughtered before her eyes—simply because they had taken her in and protected her. She sobbed as she remembered the sight of her uncle, aunt and little cousins lying sprawled on the hardwood floor of the den, blood pooling beneath their bodies.

"God, please, let me get help for them," she whispered. "Please don't let them be dead. Please…"

She then darted out from behind the tree, knowing she had to take the risk if she was going to get help for her family. She ran for the road and intended to get to the highway and flag someone down to call for help.

Joe suddenly appeared before her out of nowhere and caught her, pulling her into the shelter of his arms.

"Joe! Oh, my God…What are you doing out here," she asked, leaning into his embrace. Where was he, she wondered. Why can't I remember the reason he wasn't in the house? Had he left for a show? Everything was so hazy in her head. It made no sense.

Joe ignored her questions and rocked her tenderly, whispering words of comfort into her hair.

Ella slowly began to feel safe, despite her unanswered questions, and felt sure everything was going to be okay. Scant seconds later, however, she heard the familiar whoosh of a silencer and felt Joe's large frame jolt against her body. Then he fell helplessly to the ground on top of Ella. She heard him groan weakly in pain, and then a shadow began moving toward them. It did not take long for her to make out Jacques Fournier's frosty blue eyes—they all but glowed in the darkness.

"No…" Ella whimpered, as he lifted his gun and pointed it at Joe's back. Panic bubbled up into her throat as she screamed. "Please, NO! Kill me! Please! Not him! Not Joe!"

Fournier's eyes were cold and expressionless as he spoke. "I can't kill you Ella. I need you. Your boyfriend," he said, his steel-cold eyes shifting back to Joe, "is in the way. He won't let me have you."

Ella could see his finger threatening to pull on the gun's trigger.

"Wait," she screamed, trying unsuccessfully to turn over onto Joe, so she faced the gun instead of him. "Then take me! Just take me with you! I'll go willingly…just please…I'm begging you…don't hurt him anymore! I love him! I need him!"

"I have to get rid of him, Ella. He'll come for you. He'll never be able to let you go."

"NO," Ella screamed in torment as, in the next instant, Fournier pulled the trigger, and Joe's already unconscious form jerked against her again.

And then it was over.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Ella awoke instantly, sitting straight up in bed and screaming an anguish-filled cry, "JOOOE!"

In the next instant, Joe sat beside her and pulled her into his lap. "Baby, shh," he whispered. "You're okay. You're safe. I've gotcha."

He stroked her hair as she cried and shuddered in his embrace. Her breath came in pants and gasps as she struggled to gain her senses.

"Is—is this a dream," she finally whispered, touching his face and looking upward into his black eyes. "Are you real—really alive?" She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders, checking to make sure he was whole and free of bullets.

Joe gazed back into her eyes as well and saw a haunted sadness. He wanted nothing more than to rid her of that sadness. And he hoped he would get his chance soon. Her last question floored him then as he finally registered what she'd asked.

She had dreamed he was killed.

"Oh, honey," he said softly, pushing some dark, satin hair away from her pale face. He knew she must have suffered so many horrible nightmares till she didn't know what was real anymore. "This isn't a dream. You're awake now, thank God. And yes, I'm alive. We all are. We're just fine."

Ella sighed with relief and slumped against him, trying to calm her racing heart. "My head is killing me. How long have I been asleep?"

Joe raised his arm and looked at his wristwatch, "About thirty-two hours. You dropped about eight o'clock yesterday morning, and it's about four in the afternoon now. The pain is probably due to sleeping too hard." He urged her to lie down again, then reached up and gently massaged her temples. "Does that help?"

She nodded slightly, closing her eyes as she settled against the pillows. "Today's Saturday then? How's that possible? How did I sleep so long?"

"Well, when you haven't slept, or eaten, in several days," Joe answered, "that's a good start." He tilted her chin up, making her look him in the eye. "You have to take better care of yourself, Ella. Dr. Hollister said that you can make yourself go into a coma after about eight days of no sleep. And when you just came out of a coma so recently, that's dangerous, baby. You've also got to start eating. You scared us to death."

"I'm so sorry," Ella whispered, kissing him softly. "I didn't mean to frighten you all."

"I know, baby," he said, pressing his lips to her temple. "Just please, promise me you're going to take better care of yourself."

She nodded. "I'll try. I promise." She looked down at herself then, and noticed she was in one of her nightgowns. "When did I get dressed for bed? I don't even remember laying down."

"Ella, Nina dressed you in your nightgown after you fainted," Joe clarified, worried that her memory was receding again. "Do—do you remember what happened yesterday?"

The previous day's events flooded into her mind with another rush of pain. "Oh," she gasped. "I…passed out…because I h-heard…Uncle Jeff and the cops talking…"

Joe moved his hands down to the back of her neck and continued massaging, trying to calm her. "What do you remember," he asked grimly. "How much did you hear?"

"Too much." She took a moment and swallowed hard. "I brought my coffee cup downstairs to get a refill, and I wanted to test the waters with you…to see how angry you were at me. I got to the kitchen and I was about to go in, but I heard Uncle Jeff's and your voices, along with the cops'. I heard them say my name. I decided to stay behind the door to…eavesdrop," she admitted. She looked up into his eyes to see if he was angry beneath his exterior. There was only tenderness in his eyes. He was just worried, and scared for her.

Not worrying about his temper anymore, she continued. "And then, I heard one of the cops say…" she stopped again, unable to say the words. She felt Joe tug her closer to him and she buried her face against his chest. "I know that… he…staged the phone call to Daddy…" she sobbed and clutched Joe's t-shirt in her fists. "My daddy was going to save a life…and that evil monster was determined to not only take one, but two. And I heard what Fournier wants with me." Her slight frame trembled in Joe's arms, and he held her tighter, in hopes of giving her the security she needed. "I've got to be stronger," she whispered. "I can't expect you to drop everything when something scares me."

"Baby, you're gonna be my wife soon. Don't be mistaken in thinking I'm going to put my job before you."

She looked up into his face and saw his love for her radiating in his dark eyes.

"But, Joe…" she cast her gaze downward then. "I don't want you to put your job second. I never would have wanted that for you. Until New Year's, you didn't even know we'd fall in love. It wouldn't be fair of me to expect that of you."

"You don't have to expect it," Joe said softly, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. "You have to accept it." He leaned down for a kiss then, and stroked her back as his lips pressed tenderly against hers. She sighed softly, and returned his passionate kiss, running her fingers through his soft black hair.

"I'm just so…scared," she cried, finally pulling back. "I'm scared for my family, and for you. And… my nightmares…they're getting worse."

Joe continued to hold her tightly and asked, "Are they becoming more real to you?"

Ella nodded her head again. "Yeah, but, that's not all there is to it." She lifted her gaze to his. "They're just getting worse. I… I watched him kill Uncle Jeff, and Aunt Nina…and even…the girls," she shuddered at remembering the horrific scene of her family, all lying dead in the den. "And then…" she cast her eyes downward, and fought off a wave of hysteria as she remembered the dream's horrible details.

"What, honey," Joe prodded. "It'll help to talk about it." He stroked her cheek and she hesitantly looked into his dark eyes again.

"He… He shot you. Right in front of me. You fell on top of me, and…you were in so much pain… I could feel it." She wiped at a tear and forced herself to go on. "He…was about to shoot you again, and I begged him not to. I told him I'd go with him if he'd just not hurt you any further. He wouldn't listen to me. He said you'd come for me—and you'd never be able to let me go. And then he shot you again," she could not stop the sob that shook her frame. "You died in my arms. And there was nothing I could do. Nothing mattered then. Not without you." Her body trembled at the frightening memory of emptiness; of loss.

Joe was silent for a few moments, as if to let her cry the pain out. Then he spoke softly into her ear. "Look at me, lo'u alofa."

Ella lifted her head and managed to look into his eyes.

"Nothing is going to happen to me, or your family, or you. Do you understand me?"

She could not answer. She was afraid. If she agreed with him… If she believed him, it would hurt all the more if something truly did happen.

"Do you know how I know," he continued, begging her with his eyes to believe in him.

She shook her head.

"Because I want this so badly. I want us. I want my life with you, forever. I want you so badly, that nothing on this earth will stop me from having you. I swear it. And that's my vow to you, Ella. Nothing will ever come between us. No matter what." He paused to kiss away her tears, "And—in your dream—Fournier was right when he told you I'd come for you, and that I'd never be able to let you go. No matter what happens, or whatever may happen, Ella… I'll never let you go."

Ella could find no words to equal the beauty of what Joe just promised her. Nothing could equal it.

"I love you so much, Joe." She leaned into him, and held on tight. "I will never stop loving you."

"That's all I want," Joe replied, returning her embrace. "And I will never stop loving you either."

He knew he needed to discuss the note with her, and he also knew he needed to plan out how to propose to her. But those were things that would happen later. At that precise moment he was just so lost in the feeling of her safe in his arms, he could not manufacture another coherent thought.

"Il est un cadavre!"~"He's a dead man!"

"Sur mon corps mort!"~"Over my dead body!"