(A/N): I had other plans, but after watching The Following twice, I decided to write this story. It starts at season two episode six (with a slight plot change) and there will POV swaps every couple scenes for a nice change of perspective, and to try something new. As you can tell by the very angsty title, there will be some interesting development coming up in the story. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the plot or characters of The Following.

Mike shut the door on Luke. My eyes met Max's, and I nodded as she climbed into the car. I turned to Weston, his eyes drowning in his own vexation. He started to open the door when I grabbed his shoulder, dragging him to the back of the car. "What's up?" He looked back anxiously.

I chose my words carefully. "Are you okay, Mike?"

Weston looked away in disbelief. "I'm fine."

"Give me a break." I glanced back at the car, where Max was drumming her fingers impatiently in the front seat. "Cut the crap. These are real lives at stake, and your pride can not get in the way of this."

"Ryan," he said, glaring at me. "I'm good. Trust me."

I looked at him warily, as though examining for any wounds, any signs of vulnerability to drag him out of the field. Sighing, I looked up at the sky. "I'm going to regret this."

"What?"

"I need you to go to Lily's house instead of going with Max." Before he interrupted, I quickly continued. "If Lily brings Joe, I need to be there. I need to be the one to bring him in, Mike, and I need you to be able to go alone."

"Yeah sure, I got it."

"Yeah, I'm sure you do," I grumbled, tossing him the keys. "Take the car, get in quietly. Don't make a mess of things." Mike smirked, tossing the keys in his hands as he made his way to the car. I climbed into the car with Max in the front, ignoring her raised eyebrow. "Change of plans, buddy," I said, looking at Luke through the rear view mirror. "You're stuck with me now."

Luke collapsed in front of me, a hole protruding his head. My gun was still aimed at him as though I was afraid he would bounce back to life. I heard tires driving against the gravel. Turning around, I quickly aimed my gun as shots rang through the air and Lily and Mark drove around the curb and out of sight.

I dropped the gun to my side, panting and out of breath. I turned to see Max running towards me, throwing herself at me as she embraced me in a hug. Yet I could only stare at the dead body lying on the ground.

You didn't have a choice.

Liar. You didn't need to kill him. He could have helped. I sighed, forcing myself to relax into Max's embrace. You'll fix this.

"Ryan, I can explain-"

"Mike." I glared at him, pausing. "Stop talking." I sat on the floor outside of Mendez's office. Mike restlessly stood next to me after exiting the room, a smear of blood stained on his shirt. I arrived thirty minutes before to see him in the hall with Mendez opening the door to call Weston in. She glanced at me impatiently before motioning Mike inside and telling me to wait outside.

"I know you don't trust me, especially with what I pulled on Mark."

"You were impulsive, rash-"

I heard a scoff as he slid down the wall beside me. "So in another words, you."

"You keep saying that, Mike, but we both know that's a terrible excuse. Every time you do something reckless, you always compare yourself to me, that I would do the same thing, that I would do that if Joe were there," I argued.

"But isn't that true? Why should I be under scrutiny when you would do the same?"

I inhaled deeply. "So I'm your fall back. If you get in trouble, I take the blame?" Mike sighed, as though taking my words into consideration. I was tempted to take it back; we were at the same page, at one point or another. My words were pushed by my frustration to Lily, that she didn't deliver Joe, and toward Weston, that he wasn't able to get any information from the home. I almost wanted to apologize as Mike pushed himself up, telling me that he was tired and was going home.

I sat outside for few moments until Mendez opened her door, exhaustion lingering in her voice. "Ryan, I need you and Weston in here."

"He just left," I said, nodding toward the door.

"Well get him here. Call HRT if you need to," she joked humorlessly, shutting the door. I stood up, exiting the building. Standing in the street, I searched for Mike before pulling out my phone, ready to call him when a shot rang out, and a man beside me fell to the ground.

A mad panic of screams erupted. Another bullet hit a woman in front of me, her groceries spilling on the sidewalk. I pulled out my gun, searching aimlessly for the gunman when another man fell, his eyes wide open in shock. A fourth shot rang out, and a searing pain spread on my arm. Everyone on the street were running or hiding, with no gunman in sight. The sky, I realized while I crouched down. The shots are coming from above.

I ran to kneel behind a car, searching for any gun in sight, a glint on the rooftops. The three civilians shot were in the open, bleeding in the lower abdomen. Non lethal, yet precise, the evidence of a talented aimer, and yet I escaped with a graze on the shoulder.

A minute passed while people frantically called 911, and the three victims huddled to shelter themselves behind cars and buildings. Agents from the FBI started to come out with shields, cautiously reassuring civilians and tending to the wounded. "Ryan," Mendez called out, quickly coming to my spot. "What happened? Were you shot?!" She turned to examine the wound. I shouldered her, still looking out to the street.

"I'm fine. Three others were shot, lower abdomen. They were all walking beside me, the shots were precise."

"You're saying you were targeted for this?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure, but it's my best guess." Gina gazed out at the street, mouthing 'what a mess'.

An agent approached our area, telling us that the area and rooftops were cleared. The EMT arrived, carrying off the three civilians in gurneys before tending to my wound. Max emerged from the crowd of sirens and agents, searching for me before catching my eye at the edge of an ambulance. "Ryan! I came as soon as I heard. What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I grumbled. "It's just a graze. Was a suspect found?"

"No, there was no sign of the gunman on any roofs, and none of the civilians witnessed anything. The three victims will make it. We're hoping to connect the bullets to a suspect." Max sighed, eyeing the scene. "Mendez told me you think the attack was targeting you."

"The gunshots were precise, and the victims were the people surrounding me. I don't see how I shouldn't be wounded as well unless it was for a certain reason. A message."

"Ryan." Mendez was by the door, motioning for me. "Both of you, inside. Now."

"Sir..." the medic started before I reassured him that it was fine. Max and I walked toward the building, where agents were milling around us and voices were thrown across the room.

"Washington's going crazy over this," Mendez started as we gathered by the desks. "An attack this direct toward an FBI agent is an attack on the bureau itself unless we can connect this to the case directly. We're going to need a full debrief on the events leading up the shooting. Where the hell is Weston?"

"He was heading out, hoped he was done for the day. I was gonna call him when the shooting started," I answered, weaving through the masses to keep up with Gina. A buzz came from my pocket as the big screen came into view. I opened my phone.

"Is that him?"

"No, Lily just sent a text." I handed the phone to Max.

"It's a link to a video."

"Alright, let's get it up on the big screen. Hey Hopkins," Mendez said, nodding to Max. My phone connected to the screen, and Lily Gray appeared.

"Hello Ryan," she said, her soft voice deceiving any motives hiding in her heart. I killed her son, I thought, and this is the cost.

"Is this live?" Mendez asked.

"No, it's time stamped an hour ago," Hopkins replied.

I took a closer look at the footage. "Where is she? House, dining room, where?"

Lily sighed, her voice revealing her hollow empathy. Her face showed no sign of grief; no red eyes, no tears washing down her cheeks. The only thing that remained was her merciless wrath staring down at us through her gentle eyes. "I'm sorry about the three innocents. It's unfortunate that their lives were endangered for your mistakes." The surrounding became no more recognizable. She was in front of a simple cream wall, one that resembled any home in the world. "There is a sniper, watching your every move. If you are seen, you will be shot, and I will make sure that you live long enough to suffer the pain that I am feeling.

"You killed my son, Ryan Hardy. You ripped out my heart and crushed it in front of me. Learn to keep your loved ones close, my friend. They can be taken away when you least expect."

An eruption exploded in the room. I turned to Max, and I held her to me as closely as possible.

"You will have all round protection, and don't you even try to slip out, Hardy, or else I will pull you from your grave and kill you myself," Marshall Turner said pointedly as I entered the home from the garage. "You will have full access to the investigation from this house, but you are not to step out of this house at any time, is that clear?"

"And Max, my sister?"

"They're both being put in protection as we speak, as well as the rest of your family. Your niece will be arriving soon."

I pushed back a curtain, glancing out the window to the vast expanse of grass and trees. A car was parked outside where agents patrolled the grounds. A handful of people were setting up in the kitchen, and dishes clattered as they prepared for dinner. "And what about the sniper. Are there any more leads to a suspect?"

Turner shook his head. "The victims are still in surgery, and the bullets will still have to be analyzed through the database."

"We don't have time for that. Lily isn't going to wait for the labs to come back," I grumbled. I remembered Gray's threats, and danger she put on my loved ones. "I did this, I endangered my family." Turner opened his mouth before someone called my name.

"Agent Hardy." An agent knocked on the door. "Another text has been sent to your phone by Lily Gray." I nodded to Turner, and we both made our way to the kitchen.

"Hello Ryan Hardy." Lily's face appeared on a computer, this time in parking lot with rows of cars behind her. "It's time for me to pay you back for the death of my son."

(A/N): This is the first piece I've written in a while, so apologies if it's a bit rough. Reviews and criticism are welcome.