Who: Joe Hardy What: Joe is experiencing some strange Dream bleedthrough When: Last week of October through first week of November Where: The Hardy’s apartment and the garage Rating/Warnings: Dream NPC character death, language. Status: Complete Narrative
Joe had succeeded in convincing himself that he had not, in fact, received a phone call from his dead fiancé. It was easy enough to do considering his phone showed no evidence of receiving a call from beyond the grave.
He mentioned the Dream to Frank as a kind of warning, in case Frank himself had not yet Dreamed that far. The brothers may have Dreamt the same thing, but they weren’t necessarily Dreaming the same thing at the same time. Sometimes Frank was ahead and sometimes Joe was. It made absolutely no sense, but then again nothing about the Dreams did. That was the hardest part to swallow.
Frank had not yet Dreamed about Vanessa’s boat exploding. He was obviously concerned when Joe told him he hadn’t actually finished the Dream, though he didn’t say that a phantom phone call in the middle of the night was what woke him up. He hadn’t shut himself off the same way he had when he had started Dreaming and he was processing this newest Dream a bit better than the Dream in which Iola had died. The problem was that even though this Joe didn’t actually know Vanessa, he was feeling the same feelings of shock and loss over her death the Joe in the Dreams were. That was the strangest part, feeling these feelings that weren’t really his.
In the very least, Joe didn’t want to go to sleep again for fear of having to go through watching Vanessa’s boat explode a second time. He tried keeping himself awake with late night espressos and 5-hour energy shots and to their credit, they did keep him awake for a couple of nights. However, one shortcoming of the 5-hour energy shots was that once your body had no reserves to tap into, the shots stopped working and by Halloween, Joe was running on fumes.
He noticed that Stefan was acting a little weird. He was unnecessarily sarcastic and at times down right mean. It wasn’t like Stefan at all. It bothered Joe, of course and the distraction was enough to keep his mind off the Dreams. However, whenever Joe tried to talk to him, Stefan snapped at him – at one time nearly taking his head off. There’s nothing wrong, Hardy, mind your own business. It wasn’t in Joe’s nature to mind his own business, but he let the matter drop because…well…vampire and all.
After his evening shift at the garage, Joe had gotten into his car and just…lost a few hours. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, it had just kind of happened. Thankfully, he hadn’t even gotten his keys into the ignition before Mr. Sandman kidnapped him. And as it always was whenever Joe fell asleep these days, he Dreamed.
It was the same Dream, starting just after Vanessa’s boat exploded. The brothers had returned home and Joe had received a strange phone call, and if he hadn’t known any better he would have sworn it was Iola calling to taunt him about Vanessa’s death. A sick prank, Frank tried to tell him and for the life of him Joe wanted to believe that’s what it was. His brother, remembering all too well what Joe had been like after Iola had died, tried to focus Joe’s mind by treating the matter like a case, and – god bless him – it worked.
There hadn’t been much to go on, the police had little information to provide and even less to close friends to the victim. It was starting to appear as though it really was just a tragic accident when someone attempted to drug both brothers with the candles in the jack-o-lanterns. Would have worked too had Callie not shown up. Callie, who would have thought Joe would have been ever happy to see her, much less let her half drag him across their yard out into fresh air….
Joe awoke with another jolt, hands grasping at the steering wheel tightly. It took him a moment to realize where he was and that his phone was ringing. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was well after midnight. Oh, sweet baby Jesus. That was probably Frank calling him, wondering where the hell he was!
Joe fumbled his phone out of his pocket and without even checking the caller ID (because who else would be calling him at this hour) answered with “Hey, Frank. Sorry, I must have dozed off. I’m on my way-“
“It’s me, Joe.”
Joe’s voice died in his throat. His heart stopped before dropping like a stone and turning his blood to ice.
“Joe? Are you there?”
It took Joe another solid beat to find his voice again. “Iola.”
“So you haven’t forgotten me,” the woman on the other end said sounding bemused.
“No, of course not…” Joe answered quickly and then trailed. This was impossible. Joe had heard a lot of crazy stories associated with the Dreams, but never that they had brought back the dead. He took his phone from his ear. Just as it had the last time, the display simply read “Unknown” and a series of 0’s. Joe frowned darkly before putting the phone back to his ear. “Who is this?” He demanded hotly.
“Oh, Joe,” the woman sighed.
“Answer me!” Joe ordered. “Who put you up to this?”
“You moved so far away,” was the reply. “You’re seeing other women. Do you ever think of me when you sleep with them?” Joe felt his face burn hot and his anger robbed him of his voice for the moment. But Iola, or whoever this person was on the other end, didn’t seem bothered. “I know you must have been lonely these past several months,” she said. “So I forgive you.”
“Who are you?!” Joe demanded again, but the line was dead. Just like a few nights ago, his phone showed no record of having even received the call at all. Joe was left in his car in silence, basting in his own outrage. Who the hell was making these calls? Had someone come across an article concerning Iola’s death and the murder trial? It was a possibility, but it seemed unlikely, especially after so much time had passed. It was possible that one of that bastard’s friends or family had tracked Joe down and was screwing with him. Considering what Joe had pulled in front of the courthouse, it kind of made sense someone had come after him. Joe was still keeping tabs on the asshole murderer himself. But why go to such lengths as to impersonate Iola? Why not just threaten him over the phone in their own voice? How would they even know what Iola sounded like?
Joe sighed and placed his phone down before rubbing at his face. Maybe it really was all in his head. This place, it was just getting to him. Getting in his head somehow. Maybe he just needed a vacation. Joe had to laugh. A vacation where? Didn’t people come to Orange County to take vacations?
It was after three in the morning when Joe finally got to back to the apartment. He kept quiet as he slunk in. Joe was not nearly as good about letting Frank know when he was going to be late or out all night as he probably should have been, but Frank always left a light on for him regardless. Joe went into the living room to turn it off, and as he did the caller’s words came back to haunt him. “You’re sleeping with other women.” That was what Joe was usually doing when he didn’t come back to the apartment at night. It wasn’t a big secret, but how would the caller know that? Was he being stalked? Joe doubted that. His detective skills may have been left to rust, but he wasn’t so unobservant these days that he wouldn’t have noticed someone paying him undue attention. Besides, a stalker was flesh and bone and would have left some kind of record on his phone if they called.
Joe sighed and shook his head. He made his way into the kitchen. There on the counter was a set of the stupidest, most ugly looking ceramic jack-o-lanterns Joe had ever seen. The same jack-o-lanterns that had appeared in his Dreams. Joe stared at them for a few long moments.
Nope.
It didn’t matter to the younger Hardy if the damn things had come in that care package from their mother or if the Dreams had deposited them there. The entire set ended up in the kitchen trash. And even though Joe was not sorry in the slightest for doing so, he left Frank a note stating that he was and that he would replace the damn things with something else less stupid. Then Joe made a pot of coffee and went into his room to watch movies until it was time to start his day again.
So, needless to say, sleeping wasn’t high on Joe’s list of priorities. However, his body had other ideas. Working long hours at the garage of course didn’t help. It was only one day before he passed out due to fatigue again. This time at home on the living room couch. And, of course, he dreamed.
Same Dream, a little further ahead. Frank had left for Maine. They had a lead that was taking them back to the Lazarus clinic. Iola kept calling him. Kept taunting him. Kept promising that she would take more people away from him - kill more people he loved. At least Frank had heard it this time, which was lead him to check out the old facility that had produced a clone of Iola before. Joe wanted to believe it was true, that it was a clone harassing him, but the more that happened to him while Frank was gone, the more Joe felt his grip on reality slip. His mother...they killed his mother!
Joe woke up so quickly, he practically fell off the couch. His phone. Goddammit! The sun was spilling in bright light into the apartment as Joe reached out to grasp it. This time, he didn’t answer without looking at the caller ID.
Unknown
He knew he shouldn’t answer it. He knew he should just let it ring, but he couldn’t help it. It was time to give this person, whoever they were, a piece of his goddamn mind!
“What do you want from me?!” He demanded in greeting. He hoped that the person on the other end was a telemarketer or some political party trying to suade his vote to one side or the other. He hoped. He was wrong.
“It was almost a year ago that you proposed to me,” Iola’s sweet distant voice responded as though he had answered just as normally as could be. “We were at your parents house and it surprised everyone, especially me. I actually thought you were joking at first.”
Joe’s breath was caught in his throat. He kept trying to tell himself that anyone would know that. Bayport wasn’t a large town. Aunt Gertrude would have been eager to tell her friends how her youngest nephew was getting married.
“But you weren’t joking,” Iola went on. “You wanted to marry me. I never thought it would happen. I never stopped thinking about you, you know. Even after we graduated and went to college. I always thought of you, even just a little bit. Do you remember what I told you that night? All I ever wanted was you.”
“Iola,” Joe’s voice felt weak and strained as he forced it up his throat.
“It’ll be alright, Joe,” Iola said. It was almost as if her voice were getting further away.
“Iola! Wait-”
But the call had ended.
Joe had no idea what was happening. He didn’t know if he was losing his mind or if Orange County had somehow really managed to bring someone back from the dead. Neither option was a good one.
For the next day, Joe functioned as though he were in a fog. He attempted to bury himself in work, taking on as many jobs at the garage to focus his mind as possible. However, he kept thinking back to the last thing Iola had told. In the Dream the call had been threatening, but here it was different. The calls had made his heart twist and ache, but he didn’t feel threatened by Iola’s voice. She wasn’t taunting him in the same way. She sounded almost as if she wanted to comfort him, and in a strange way, that was worse.
And then, there she was. Joe was in the process of talking with a costumer about needing to replace the radiator fan on their station wagon when he happened to glance towards the window of the front office. Iola was there on the other side, looking in at him. She looked just as she had the last time Joe had seen her. Her hair curled around the pixie features of her face, a scarf around her pale neck. She was only wearing a light looking sweater. Joe used to give her such a hard time about how she could walk out in the middle of a New York winter without so much as a coat.
No sooner had their eyes met when she smiled faintly and turned to walk away. The customer on the other side of the counter was looking at Joe strangely. “Excuse me?” He questioned, “about my fan. How long do you think I could go before-“
Joe glanced in the customer’s direction, but he didn’t actually hear what the man said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back. I have to go check….I’ll be right back.” And without waiting for a response, Joe scooted around from behind the counter and darted out of the office. Joe ran about as far as the little coffe shop a few doors down when he stopped and looked around frantically. “Iola?” He called out. “Iola?”
He caught sight of curly black hair bobbing a little way up the street and he raced towards it. “Iola!” He called out to her as he weaved around the foot traffic along the sidewalk. The closer he got, the more desperate he was to reach her, so much so that he didn’t seem to notice the people he ran into.
“Hey! Watch it!” Joe’s arm was caught and jerked by one of those passersby he had brushed by a little roughly.
Joe glanced back once. The expression on his face must have alarmed the woman who had him since loosened her grip enough for Joe to wrench free and take off after his fiancé’s specter. But she was gone, as though she had simply dematerialized in to nothing. “Iola?” Joe called out. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk looking this way and that, desperately hoping to catch sight of dark curly hair again, or that scarf or that light sweater. “Iola!”
“Are you alright?”
Joe whirled around and found the same woman he’d run into behind him looking at him with concern instead of anger. “Did you lose someone?” She asked carefully, as if she wasn’t quite sure Joe wasn’t one of those crazy people you sometimes read about who randomly snapped on the streets.
“Yes, I…” Joe trailed off. He was lost and confused. Iola was dead, he had been there when she died and yet he would swear that he just saw her. “I don’t…I thought I saw someone,” he said. “Someone I knew.” He glanced back up the street the way he knew Iola had gone. “I guess I was wrong. I’m sorry,” he looked back towards the woman, “I bumped into you, I’m sorry.”
“I’m alright,” she said gently. “Are you sure you are?”
No, he was not alright. He was losing his goddamn mind! “I’m fine,” he gave the woman a forced smile. “I should get back to work. Sorry again.”
He left the bewildered woman and made his way back to the garage.