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Ezra and Ella	By : LuluDreams Category: S through Z > YOU Views: 310 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer all characters belong just and only to the marvelous Caroline Kepnes, Netflix etc, I just own my sick ideas, lol

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Summary:
Bronte and Joe have their confrontation.
Notes:
Before reading:
I feel like I have to explain something, before you get the wrong message.
I agree with the end of season 5. Joe is a bad person (although some victims are so much worse than him) who deserves to be in jail.
But I also love the trope ‘Evil Wins’ and with this fic I’d like to see what could happen if:
1 Joe could be free again (and for that I need pretty unrealistic stuff to happen.. more or less like in the show, sometimes, LOL)
2 Bronte embraced the dark side.
When I saw 5x8 (aka my fave episode ever!) for the very first time, where Bronte was tested by Joe with that misogyn guy in the cage, actually I expected something way much darker, such as Bronte hurt that guy or watched Joe torture him… I had a feeling she was very close to do something like that, but then she chose the good path, trying to fix Joe.
Another thing that strikes me is in the end of episode 5x6, when Joe finds the camera hidden in the books and speaks to her, she knows he’s extremely mad at her and she’s scared; yet she can’t resist and goes to him.
That’s what led me to believe that something like this could happen even in a post canon.
Of course, some things are brought to their extreme, because it’s a fanfic.
So, short recap, RL killers suck and I hate them, but fictional Joe Goldberg is too entertaining not to try to write about ;)

Chapter IV: Find the key

Joe’s POV

I must say something, anything, I can’t be still and silent just like that, staring at you, like an idiot.
I also need to prove to myself you are real.
C’mon, Joe, you’re still able to speak, say some-fucking-thing.

“Long time no see.”

Shit. Did I really say that?
On second thought, it was better to keep silent.

You giggle.
Well, projections in a deviant mind don’t giggle, do they?

“Well, since it’s been more than two years, I guess you’re allowed to say that.” You reply, as you stretch up, reaching my hair for a feeble caress.

“No more Mr Curly, eh? I’m going to miss that, but I also like this good guy look.”

“I don’t think ‘good guy’ fits me.” I make my statement, in case you didn’t notice, I’m still wearing a prison jumpsuit.

“You have a point.”

“I also have like a million questions running through my head, Bronte. What’s happening? Why are you here? How the hell did you manage to do such a thing? What’s the…”

Here you are, tapping my mouth with your hand, but only because all the chains prevent me from stopping you.
Not that I want to… I actually enjoy having you so close.

“Hush, I promise I’ll tell you everything in the slightest details, but not now, especially not here, we gotta go!” You say, pushing me, although gently, until we reach a Jeep, I guess yours.

“I really hope that the tinted windows will do their magic, because right now I’m afraid you’re a little too showy.” You add.

We get in the car, you set the car in motion and we disappear from wherever we were.

“I can’t just help picturing what must have happened not so far ago,” you comment, never losing sight of the road, although it’s rather deserted. “Something like Attica Correction Facility people calling ADX Florence ones saying: ‘Everything went according to plans, the prisoner Goldberg is travelling and will reach your jail tomorrow.’ And ADX Florence people, totally dumbfounded, reply: ‘Are you kidding? We never asked anything like this!’ ” You conclude, laughing.

“Just how…” are the only two words escaping my mouth.

“Well, now that no one is intercepting their calls and hackering their phone lines, they can finally speak to each other for real!”

Wait a minute. Intercepting. Hackering.

“Are you really hinting that you asked Will to…” I light up, smiling.

“Of course, I did. How was I supposed to do this on my own? I barely know how to turn my laptop on!” You make me laugh.

You and Will, coworking in order to help me.

But mostly you, doing whatever you did, in order to see me again. Because you did miss me.

I imagine you, laying in bed, as you long for me and your hand starts caressing your body, going lower and lower.

Just the thought could give me an orgasm.

I try to get more details about you and Will, but you are a sphynx.

Bronte’s POV

I wonder if in that wood, among all the noises, you could also hear my heart pounding in my chest.
You turned abruptly, but to me it felt like a slow motion, in which I saw every moment we spent together, both the best and the worst ones.
How are our new moments gonna be?
I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks, wondering whatever could have happened, but now?

And then we start talking, just a few sentences and everything seems natural again, despite the unnatural situation we are in.

You follow me to the car and you seem pretty docile. Of course, you are, you’re chained up from your shoulders to your feet, it’s not like you can exactly aggress me.
Dammit, I’m in a car with a serial killer, because I guess there’s no other way to define you, knight in a bloody armour, rather than a shining one.
And yet I’m doing this crazy thing, I’m desperately clinging to the faint light that there’s still in you, among all the darkness.
Somewhere deep inside you there’s still a lonely boy who just asks for love, for being loved.

And I can see that lonely boy in your warm smile, once I revealed to you that Will helped me in this challenging project.
It’s not the smile of someone who’s glad because he’s free, ready to come back to his awful habits.
It’s the smile of someone who’s aware that there are still people who care about him, who didn’t abandon him.
That’s the Joe I meant to save.

As the ride goes on, I try to change the subject, also because you’re flooding me with questions about the plan, but I don’t want to reveal too much now.
Plus, there’s still a big surprise, it’s just a matter of a couple of hours.

“However, Joe, you shouldn’t sound so dumbfounded, I’ve tried to warn you that something big was going to happen.”

“Of course you did, dear AnneLou, but you have been way too vague, there was no mention of a Machiavellian operation that would shame every crime movie!” You make me laugh.

Also because you answered my indirect question: not only did you read that letter, but you also remember the fake name I used.

“You know, this trip reminds me of when we went to that estate sale of used romance novels.” I try again to keep the conversation alive.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Bronte Loiuse Flannery, but I recall a way longer trip together: when you pretended to accept my proposal, to run away with me. When you broke my heart.”

Your tone is so cold it sent shivers down my spine. And you also used my full name.
Bad. Very bad sign.
You must still be so pissed off.

C’mon, Bronte, act as if nothing happened.

“Huh right, also that trip, yeah, but I was talking about the other one to add that even here in West Pittston there’s a good library and I could find something worthy of your appreciation.”

“Oh, this is so sweet of you!”

Now you used sarcasm. I guess it’s even worse.

After that we keep silent for a while, and I wonder if it’s a worrying thing or not.

As we get closer to the flat I rented, I wish more and more I had a user guide on how to deal with a sociopathic, stalker and killer who probably is still disturbingly mad at me.

Probably I’ll write it after finding out the way and it will be my second best seller.

Okay, no more time for jokes, we’ve arrived.

Joe’s POV

You park the car, so we must have arrived.
It’s been a short ride, half an hour, maybe even less.

As I walk, I take a look around: it's full of fields here and something that looks like an abandoned warehouse.
If you were looking for discretion, you found it.
Kudos to West Pittston, but not to you, not yet. I still have to figure out what you’re planning.

“This is a house I rented and we’re going to stay here for a while, it’s a very isolated alley, no one should bother us, which is for the better.” You explain to me, as you open the door.

“Sounds good to me. So, tell me, will I find a glass cage inside it, something to make you feel more at ease? To me it’s just going from a jail to another one…” I mutter, but I have to stop talking once we are inside.

No trace of cages.
Actually it’s a lovely two-room flat, with pastel grey walls, woodlike floors, a bathroom with a shower large enough for us both, a bedroom with two windows and a kingsize bed that looks very soft, a small, but functional corner kitchen, with a minimal induction and a spacious work surface.

And here I am, already picturing us like in those fluffy movies with soppy love songs in the background, as we cook together, teasing each other with the ingredients. I make you taste the sauce I’m preparing for the pasta you’re boiling, a drop taints the left corner of your mouth, I like it and then we kiss savagely and I fuck you on the counter multiple times.. is it marble?

“You were not listening, were you?” You take me back to reality.

“Huh, sorry, I was examining the house…” I babble.

“I was just saying that we could unlock a new trope: role reversal.”

My eyes grow wide as I back off, as much as the chains allow me to.

“Like you’re the murder and I’m the victim?” I play cool, but I’m about to shit my pants.

You burst out laughing.

“Nope, you Drama Queen, I meant that, in case you’re still wondering how I managed to get everything done, find this home, the car and everything that still has to happen; now I’m the Wealthy Princess, taking care of you, the Poor Guy down on his luck… if you allow me to.”

Oh.

You don’t even give me time to say something, because I see you opening a drawer, where you take something.
An extra set of pins. Just in case you needed more than one.

“Do you remember the forbidden doors? I’ve become quite good and fast after that!” You smirk as you start bending one of the pins in a particular way and I figure everything out.

It’s the key to my padlocks.

I try to step closer to you, maybe with too much impetuosity and this is a mistake, because you startle and move away.

“Ah-ah. Not this quickly. Let’s play a game, first.”

“A game?” I repeat, as a wonder.

“Yep. We ask each other a deep question for every padlock I unlock, setting you free more and more by all the chains.”

Huh. I like it, Bronte.
It’s not just a matter of opening the locks.
It’s about finding the key to reading each other.
C’mon, Bronte. Find the key. Read me. Prove to me you’re the one.
For real, this time?

“Are you still in this world?” You wave your hand in front of me.

“I was just pondering. Are you really going to set me free here, all alone with me in a desert alley?” I ask you and, yeah, I meant to sound creepy, I meant to scare you, just a little bit.

Truth must be said, Bronte, I still haven’t forgiven you , as I’m sure a part of you is still mad at me.

You hold the pin tighter, as if you were metaphorically holding your pride.

“Yeah, Joe, I’m really going to, only if you accept to play this game.”

“Okay, let’s do it. I’ll start first.” I agree, as you start opening the first padlock. You choose to start from the bottom. “Have you ever wanted to kill me?”

“When I figured out what you did to Beck’s book, in the heat of the moment, yes, my plan was to kill you after I had made you correct every part of her book. But then, after the very last phone call with Henry, I was just too sad for you.”

You pause and I remind myself how bad I miss my son. Even hearing his name hurts.

“But I confess that, when you realized I was still inside the house and I saw you from the window running so fast towards me, I really wished you had a heart attack or something!” You add and you’re so sincere that I can’t help chuckling.

“Have you ever wanted to kill me?” You mirror my question.

“Well, after failing with the choking, I can’t deny that I’ve tried very hard with the drowning.” I admit, staring at you, deep into your endless eyes. “But, despite all the consequences, I’m glad I didn’t manage to. You’re the kill I would have regretted the most.”

You keep silent, I do the same and the only thing breaking it it’s a thud on the floor.
The first padlock getting opened. The first chain that falls, setting my feet free.

“Why do I find it, in a very, very disturbing way, so romantic?” You murmur in awe. “Anyway, in case you’re wondering why the drowning didn’t work… champion of freediving competitions for two years running!” You indicate yourself, bragging a little.

“You’re so full of surprises.” I smirk.

“But you could have never known, I carefully avoided posting about it on every sort of social media; do you think I’m stupid?”

If only my hands were free, they would be holding yours right now.

“You’re anything but stupid, Bronte.”

You stare at me, but then you look away.

“Okay, let’s get to the second padlock.” You mutter, trying uselessly to hide how impressed you are.

“Are you afraid of me?” I chose my second question.

“I had been. A lot. Probably I still am, a little bit, but the joy of having you here with me is bigger than any fear.” You raise your gaze to look at me and there’s no trace of doubt in your eyes.

“Are you afraid of me, Joe?”

“Are you going to copy every one of my questions?” I giggle, making you do the same. “I’m afraid to trust you once more, Bronte, but you make it so easy every time…”

“They say the third time’s the charm.” You wink at me, as another chain falls, this time is the one around my waist and hips.

“Why should it be different this time?” I can’t help asking you.

You stop dealing with the pin and you unbutton your flowered shirt; I wonder why, but then I understand, when you show me the scar in the spot I shot you, around your left hip.

Then you kneel down, aiming at my pants, but you change your mind.

“Nope, I'm still not ready to see your poor maimed cock yet.” You grumble.

My what?!
I have to make a huge effort not to laugh.

You confine yourself only to skim my crouch from above the pants.

“You shot me. I shot you. We both survived. These scars mean more than any bitemarks bullshit between Ezra and Ella. We belong to each other, Joe. Nothing can change that.” You assert, as serious as never before, buttoning your shirt up again, but it’s like it’s not enough yet. “‘I’ve been after you for months, then I’ve been with you for weeks… and did I really allow the first lady painter who passes by to play mind games with me?”

So that’s what happened. Marianne turned you against me.

And stupid me, for telling her I was even glad she was still alive… that manipulative bitch!

Bronte’s POV

I’m so relieved that I’ve told you this.
I spent days, weeks, months wondering how things would go if I didn’t meet Marianne, if we hadn’t had that speech.
I still would have rescued you from that fire, but this time I would have accepted your proposal with real delight.
We would have run away and probably we would be happy, but just for a while, because there had been truths you would still try to hide from me.
And I want you. All of you.
I feel the need to tell you.

“Despite it fucked up things between us, I don’t regret have meeting Marienne. I needed to know the whole you, before finally figuring out it doesn’t make me run away from you. Not anymore. I’ve loved just a lie before. Now I want you to give me a chance to learn how to love the real you.”

You stand so still that even if you weren’t all chained up it wouldn’t make any difference.

You’re staring at me in a way that strips my soul, no one has ever watched me like this before.
It reminds me of the way you were looking at me that starry night, on the boat, but it’s even better, because this time there’s no charade between us.
We both are playing it straight.

I glance at my mobile. There's still time, more or less one hour before it happens.
Then I remember it’s my turn to ask you a question.

“Do you think you deserved to go to prison?”

You take your time before answering, I guess you’re collecting your thoughts.

“Prison has been cathartic, somehow, it gave me lots of time to think. I can’t say I’m a good man. Good men don’t kill. And I did. So much more than once. And probably I still would. And, for the record. The guy you set free from the cage… I killed him.”

I gasp and you notice that.

“So there wasn’t any ‘She fixed him’ trope.” I accuse you.

“Probably there can never be one. So, if you want to bring me back to that forest and let the police find me, I’ll understand…”

“I’m glad you killed that man.”

I can’t even believe I’ve just said that, but what scares me the most is that I’m not lying.

“Probably it was a mistake to set him free, he hadn’t learned any lesson, he would attack some women again, probably he would do something worse. And I’m relieved to know he can’t anymore and never will. Thanks to you.” I admit, setting you free from the third chain, this time the one that wrapped your left shoulder and right arm.

“So… are you really ready to accept me, all of me?” You’re almost hesitant to ask.

“I guess we needed to get through all of this to make it happen.” I assure you.

“Tell me, Bronte, what’s your biggest fear? About mine, you’ve just saved me from it. And, nope, I don’t mean the jail, but the loneliness.”

Again, flashes of that lonely boy.

“My biggest fear is not to live my life to the fullest, as it was happening with Paul…”

Oh shit, Bronte, you idiot, this is a huge misstep.

“Who the hell is Paul?” Your eyes light up with jealousy.

“Nope, Joe, don’t even try. You’re not going to have any surname from me. No research. No stalking. No revenge.”

“But…”

“I guess I’ve already hurt him a lot.”

You stare at me puzzled and I get what you’re thinking.

“Figurative language, you, freak!” I make things clear. “Anyway, Paul is my former boyfriend, before I broke up with him, figuring out it wasn’t the life I wanted.”

“What made you change your mind?” You need to fill your ego.

“The absence of you, you damn prophet!” I make you laugh. “However, it was my turn for the questions: what do you think it’s your greatest value?”

“I’m caring, supportive, kind, sweet, romantic, watchful, protective…”

“I’ve said pick just one, you braggy narcissist!” I laugh, opening the padlock of the chains that trapped your legs.

“What about you, which is your greatest value?”

So now it’s you who mirrors my questions.

“My bravery. Or rather my recklessness.” I make you smile.

“What do you think is your greatest flaw?”

“Well, I guess I should say I'm a narcissist, since a certain someone just made me notice!” You retort, playfully punching me with your already free arm.

I giggle, but then you turn serious.

“Wait. Are we flirting? This is weird. We literally tried to kill each other and now we’re flirting like a pairing during their very first date? Could it really be a fresh start?”

“Is it a question for the game?”

“It’s a question for our lives together, Bronte!”

“Oh. I would say let’s not rule anything out.”

Geez, you’re right, we are shamelessly flirting!

“But I also say that we need to start from scratch. There’s a lot we have to work through, we need to rebuild our mutual trust. Let’s reset everything, can we?”

You nod and I smile, holding out my hand.

“Hi. My name is Louise Flannery, but I prefer Bronte. I love books, I used to catfish people, I’ve told many lies, but I’m still up for it if you want to know me better.”

You smile back, doing the same.

“Hi. My name is Joe Goldberg, although I made up many other fake ones. I love books. I happened to kill a lot of people. A life with me could be not easy, but I’m still up for it if you want to know me better.”

We shake hands and all I can feel is electricity.

I set you free from the very last chain and you can finally fully move.

As you stretch and stir, checking if every of your joints still works, I take advantage to go pick something.

I come back to you and you almost can’t believe what I’m giving to you.

It’s a mobile. A new one. Yours.

With the Wi-Fi password already installed and data connection.

“Are you aware of what you’re giving to me, Bronte? There’s internet here…” you babble.

“Of course I know, it’s another leap of faith. Feel free to do whatever you want with it.”

You start your research and I’m just curious to know what is the very first thing you are going to do with that. Probably searching for a name, but not Paul, c’mon, I didn’t even tell you where he lives, you just can’t. Probably you’re searching for newcasts, although it’s still too soon to find something really interesting.
Or maybe you’re looking for a specific address, or…

A music, a soft, enveloping music, interrupts my pondering.

“What did you do?” I wonder as the notes of ‘Dreams from Bunker Hill’ by Cigarettes after Sex fill the room.

“Do you remember our first and last dance? We just missed the music and I guess this one is perfect.” You smile at me, stretching your hand towards me. “Shall we dance again, for real, this time?”

My legs feel like jelly. I really can’t believe how sweet you are. You could have done anything with that mobile, and the very first thing that crossed your mind is…

I simply hold your hand, letting you place the other behind my back, in order to lead me.

I’m holding on tightly to you and we start dancing, slowly, swaying.

“How did you know this is one of my favourite songs?” I ask you, with my eyes closed.

“I don’t know if you can believe a stalker, but I swear it’s pure coincidence!” You make me laugh, as we keep dancing.

“Do you wanna make it forever? Do you wanna be my only one?” You start to sing along with the chorus.

I open my eyes, staring into yours.

“Cause now I really miss the way it was. When everything was beautiful with us.” You keep singing, right before the casque.

And I let myself go, already knowing you won’t let me fall.
This is another leap of faith.

“Can’t you feel how much this song talks about us?” You murmur, lifting me up.

I nod and we dance again.

“Okay, Bronte, let’s do whatever you prefer. Every building trusts bullshit you’re up to… but..”

“But?” I stare at you, enthralled.

“But I feel I’m gonna die if I don’t kiss you right here, right now!”

You don’t even give me the time to answer, you pull me closer to you, bend over me and our lips meet with such eagerness it almost scares me.
It’s a passionate and desperate kiss at the same time, you even cry out of the blue and I can taste your tears.

I don’t even know how long it lasts, before we part.

“Joe, do you remember that last night, on that boat, when you put me at the center of the universe?”

“Probably the best moment in my whole life.” You nod. “Right after this kiss.”

“I thought that was the peak of romanticism. Ever.” I keep talking.

“But?” You anticipate me, the same way I did with you, before.

“But I guess we have a new winner!”

TBC
Notes:
I know, I know, probably lots of readers are gonna hate me for that, but I couldn’t resist.
By the way, here’s a little Easter Egg: that’s the song that’s the real background in the ‘Last dance’ episode (another of my faves!), but actually they couldn’t hear that music at the Sandbox.
And (disclaimer), the lyrics Joe sings are really the one from the chorus of that song.
Feel free to tell me everything, but I also will understand if no one does.
I’m aware of how controversial this fic can be, yet I like it ^^’
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Ezra and Ella

Summary:

Notes:

Notes: