Set after season two. The events of the finale did not happen In this story, neither did Mandy's or Emma's or Lily's deaths. I own nothing! All rights go to their respective owners.

He twiddled his pen between his fingers anxiously. This was his tenth pen, fresh out of the packet. The others had not lived to tell the tale and now lay in pieces across the wide room. Never had Joe Carroll felt this angered in his entire life. Not when his son refused to even look at him, not when his ex wife slept with Ryan bloody Hardy not when some pathetic individual refused to die after he had given them such a brutal ordeal! No this just took things to a whole new level entirely!

After several more anxious moments of twiddling the pen, it sailed into the air and smashed against the wall, ink spurting everywhere. Normally the sight pleased him as it made him think of his victims and how their blood spurted everywhere after a rather intense stabbing. However today it angered him and he shot a glare at the broken pen and the ink which had sadly ruined one if dear Emma's brilliant paintings and starred to pace the room angrily. Looking at everything in the room, anything that could help him in anyway, anything to get him past this bloody awful ordeal he is currently suffering through. His eyes wander over the sleek black laptop of Emma's sitting haphazardly on the sofa. No he thought to himself, you cannot sink that low. He shuddered at the very thought before eying his phone. He moved to get it, looking at the three main numbers on it. The first. Ryan Hardy, no perhaps not. He thought, as with the mood he's in presently he may accidentally let something slip which would lead him all the way back to death row and his beloved followers to their peril. No, this was not the time for games or taunting. He eyed the second number on his phone. Claire. He looked twice at that number, maybe he could call her. However if she were with Ryan that would be a rather massive problem. But she is smart… No he thinks before looking at the third number. Emma. Now he could call her, she would come running but then again she was supposed to be out with Mandy today for some 'bonding' as Joe had so cleverly put it. As he knew very well that his girls were not on the friendliest of terms. So he chucks his phone in some corner of the room and moves to the window. Looking out into the massive garden before him. He had rid himself of that dreadful religious cult three months ago, leaving them behind for the FBI. From there he had taken Emma, Mandy and as many followers as he desired out into the woods where they had stumbled across this hidden gem, previously owned by some wealthy loner, who he has taken great pleaser in taking out. The benefits, Joe discovered of this guy being a loner is that this place is in the middle of no where and since he had no friends, no one came knocking on. It is perfect in every way and to watch followers come and go made Joe one happy man but there is one thing this place cannot cure which Joe believes shall finish him by the end of the day.

More countless hours go by and Joe finds his dilemma increasing. Enough to make him want to walk outside of his office and murder a couple of followers just for fun, something to give him that boost he is anticipating. This is what it feels like to be murdered. Joe wonders to himself, he always believed it would feel more exhilarating, more amazing to be murdered but bloody hell, he is not liking this version at all!

After a couple more hours he turns to drink, maybe that will shift this terrible block he thinks as he pours himself a tall glass of whiskey. The door opens abruptly, he moves to see who it is, his fingers taut around the glass, ready to snap. But when he sees who it is he calms down ever so slightly. "Emma Hill." Joe mutters in acknowledgement. She looks at him, brooding by the fire place, a little worried as he never calls her by her first name unless it's serious. Ohh god what if he knows? She thinks to herself, worried about a revelation that she was not in a hurry to share. Standing up tall, shoulders back she braces herself mentally and physically for the argument that will soon follow. "What's up?" She says after a moment of consideration. "I think I am mentally coming to my end." He replies, this shocks Emma. Joe is the strong one, Joe is the leader. A million thoughts rush through her mind at once. "What's bothering you. Is it the FBI or that bastard Hardy?" Emma mutters in a sharp tone. "No. Not this time Em, it's actually quite embarrassing really." Joe sighs, "What is it. You know you can tell me anything." Emma says in a silky voice. "Well it seems I have been rewarded with a severe case of writers block. Nothing is happening up there, no ideas nothing! For a writer, love that is the start of the decline." Joe growls melodramatically. Emma fights back giggles. "Can I help in anyway?" She asks sweetly. "I'm lost fire away love." He collapses against the sofa. "How about this. A damaged wounded man who had lost his one true love meets another, mysterious woman and they escape the world, leaving it behind to the monsters who destroyed it for him and start a family." Emma suggests quietly, Joes laughs. "Well. Not what I was hoping for love. Perhaps it's best to leave the ideas to me and focus on the artistic side. But at least you bring slight comic relief." Joe smiles, a little bit of the burden of his writers block easing a little at Emma's words. "That's not all I bring." She smiles seductively. "Very true my love, very, very true." Joe gets to his feet crossing the room to Emma's side pulling her into a passionate embrace before kissing her tenderly. Thinking to himself that the writers block can wait.

authours note: Hey guys, thanks for taking the time to read this story, if reviews are good I may update this story