So I'm back! It's been a while (a lot longer than I realised). I had a niggle of just a plot point in my mind the other day and as I sat to get it on 'paper' a whole story rushed out...well not the whole thing. It's about two thirds done but I couldn't wait to publish the first chapter. I'm going to aim for a new chapter every 1-3 days (I have real world life stuff these days so I can't always find time to just sit and write for hours). I went home home to visit my family last week and we had no internet which is why I managed to get so much down at once.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the ride!

Joe winced a little as he massaged the shoulder of the arm he was using to steer his van. The dull aching inside the tissues now seemed as if it had always been a feature of his, so long had he had to deal with it. He blinked a little rapidly as his hand pressed the point where the bullet had exited his shoulder a little over three months ago, eliciting a suddenly sharper pain and causing him to gasp a little.

The bullet had come from the gun of a madman hell bent on exacting a misguided but, in his mind, well earned revenge against Joe's father, Fenton Hardy. A vital component of the team formed specifically to take down the New York based gang said madman was sitting at the helm of. A madman by the name of Stan.

Just thinking of Stan sent shudders down Joe's spine. Shudders which triggered slight spasms in his shoulder muscle and compounded the overall percussion show of ache his injured limb was so kindly putting on for him. Joe instinctively brought his hand up again to rub at the muscle in a vain attempt to ease off the pain. He'd fired one of his easy trademark grins at Vanessa that morning when she'd worriedly asked how he was feeling after catching him wince from the corner of her eye. She had been his rock over the past few months whilst he and his brother, Frank, had been mostly out of action on down time healing. Frank hadn't faired too well in the concluding battles of their last case either and both men had been sternly sidelined by Fenton who wouldn't hear of them doing anything more strenuous than picking up a pen until doc said otherwise.

Vanessa had been there from the beginning, from treating his wounds for him in the early days of bed rest when even attempting to feed himself had left him weak as a kitten and unable to string two thoughts together, right through to the infuriating Joe Hardy bored and restless stage which would try almost anyone's patience. Anyone, seemingly, but Vanessa. Being with Joe over the years had taught her a thing or two and one of the signs she had learned to look out for was the macho 'I'm fine, no really' point in the process...whereby Joe would be furiously repeating how ok he felt right before passing out through sheer stubbornness to accept he was feeling less than one hundred per cent.

Which is why over breakfast that morning she had been watching him closely without him realising and had noticed him wincing when he'd reached for more juice.

"Are you sure you're ok?" she'd asked, leaning across their breakfast bar and covering the hand he laid on the surface.

"Of course I am," he'd answered her after a blinding grin erased all creases of pain from his face "I told you, I'm Iron Man."

"Of course you are dear," Vanessa replied, grinning in spite of her exasperation "what time is your appointment today?"

Joe had rolled his eyes at this reminding her entirely of the seventeen year old she'd met all those years ago who still apparently had the tendency to rear his head.

"Eleven thirty. Doc says I shouldn't have to go to too many more sessions and I'll be right as rain." Joe felt a little guilty at this little white lie. He'd had to attend twice weekly physiotherapy sessions at the hospital ever since the shooting and subsequent surgery in order to build up the muscles which had been damaged by the bullet, and also to improve his arms mobility. These sessions had progressed to weekly and finally every two weeks until his previous one where Doctor Edwards had mentioned the possibility of stopping them altogether...in his mind a possibility. In Joe's mind a definitive.

"Oh really?" Vanessa had replied, a touch of worry in her voice "he really thinks you're nearly done?"

"Hey, babe, Iron Man. Remember?" Joe replied, lifting the hand she was holding into the air to flex his arm. The effect ruined slightly when his shoulder muscle spasmed causing him to wince a little more.

Joe grinned to himself a little at the memory as he absent-mindedly massaged a little harder at the persistent ache. Doctor Edwards had sat him down during one of their seemingly endless sessions and had explained that though the wound was completely healed, there would likely be some scar tissue build up throughout the muscle which would be with him for life. The majority of the pain associated with the injury would go away in time but it was more than likely that it would either flare up on occasions of high stress activity, or even in apparently unprovoked cases.

News of chronic pain might have dismayed some people but Joe had a stubborn nature which leant itself well to situations such as these. Rather than dwelling on the possibility, he had already compartmentalised it and decided it was something he would work through regardless. An achey shoulder wouldn't hold back Joe Hardy. He'd mentioned it in passing to Frank during one of their ritual beer and pizza nights which had a tendency to last into the wee hours. Nights which had become a little more commonplace during the weeks when both detectives had had a lot less to do and a lot more time to do it in. His reaction had been somewhat predictable.

"What?! As in, for life?" Frank had replied to his brother's nonchalant summary of the situation.

"Yeah, maybe," Joe had said, already shrugging it off.

"But...I mean how bad does it hurt?" Frank had asked eyeing his brother intently knowing all too well that he would instinctively be playing down the situation having already labelled it a minor hiccup.

"These days? Not much," Joe had replied almost truthfully "I mean...it catches me off guard once in a while but.."

Frank had settled back into his chair at this point. A grim expression marring his dark features and anger quietly blazing behind his eyes. Anger which, though concealed to all but those who knew him intently, was all but too apparent to Joe.

"What?"

"It's just Stan. I'm angry I never got the proper chance to end that sonuvabitch."

Joe had eyed up his brother sombrely at that moment. Frank was forever the more logic of the pair but he lost any semblance of reason when concerning his baby brother. A trait which Joe understood all too well. The chilling words, made all the more menacing behind the mask of nearly healed bruises and the angry forehead scar inflicted by Stan's mentally challenged accomplice, were words which Joe's entire being resonated with.

"I'm just glad you were as there as you were." Joe replied earnestly.

Though Fenton had been the one to finally bring the shark eyed lunatic to an end, Frank had thrown everything he had at Stan, literally, when he was on the brink of passing out himself in a desperate attempt to save his brother's life when he'd been staring down the barrel of a gun. An attempt which, thankfully, had worked.

Frank didn't have to reply to the sentiment. Both brothers knew they'd each make the ultimate sacrifice in a second if it meant securing the well being of the other. A harsh fact but one which had been grudgingly accepted as truth a long time ago. He'd eased back into the plush armchair and clinked his beer against Joe's raised drink in a grim but acknowledged toast.

Joe scanned the area for spaces as he eased his van into the entrance of the parking lot. One of the things he'd found increasingly frustrating over the passing weeks was the endless lack of parking spaces for the hospital. Come rain or shine, no matter what time of the day his appointments fell.

Finally eyeing up a space, he killed the engine before hopping out the door and locking it with a click as he headed deep into the bowels of the building before him entirely on autopilot. He'd been here so often over the years, and especially recently, he knew the layout intimately. He snorted mirthlessly as he thought about just how many members of staff knew both him and Frank by sight these days.

Finally reaching the physio department he had a brief word with Mary on reception after she buzzed him in and took his seat. Normally he would have chatted with Mary for a little longer but he was lost in the memories of the past weeks and she was busy hen pecking her way around the young team of receptionists she was in charge of. Mary was a matronly lady of thick and short stature who had worked at the hospital more years than she cared to remember and who had a particularly soft spot for both of the Hardys. Despite obviously having her hands full with her charges, she still looked up from the stack of papers she was furiously shuffling through to fire a twinkling smile at Joe. A smile he returned in kind before turning to sit.

The waiting room itself was small and unassuming with several doors and a few wards within view of the seats. Joe absent-mindedly scanned the room, lazily taking in details. A habit born of his profession and not one he even acknowledged these days. There were few people alongside him also obviously waiting for their names to be called. Some with noticeable walking aids hinting as to why they were waiting for their turn. Some, like himself, who on first glance seemed fine.

There was the usual flurry of activity on the sidelines and in the background of the room. Nurses and porters flying in and out of sight on their singular, all consuming missions. Joe's eyes narrowed slightly as his roaming gaze picked up on a couple of people who seemed to be carved of stone so still were they against this fury of motion. A couple of security guards, slumped in their chairs with boredom but still scanning the room with alert eyes, were sitting outside a secluded, tiny room of a ward whose curtains had been drawn obviously to stop wandering eyes. Joe cocked his eyebrow at the guys and their unconcealed guns before mentally shrugging off the sight and continuing his lazy pan of the room. It was more than likely someone requesting police presence for some reason or other during their stay in the hospital.

Joe jumped slightly when his name was finally called. He'd finished his surveillance of the room and settled into his seat for the long wait, allowing his mind to wander once again. He stood up and walked towards the smiling, petite brunette figure of Doctor Edwards assistant, Abigail.

"Hi Abbie," Joe said with a nod. Abigail had been a fixture during his sessions since part way through his first month of physio. She was practically vibrating with a keen energy that could only come from someone who was new to a profession and raring to go.

"Hey Joe, sorry for the wait, Doctor Edwards has had a busy morning."

"No problem Abbie, let's get this show on the road."

Joe smiled to himself as Abigail turned and practically bounded towards the good Doctor's office. Her diminutive height was in stark contract to the well formed muscle of what little of her arms showed in her uniform. She might have been small but it would be foolish to assume she was also weak.

Entering the office, Joe saw Doctor Edwards was eye deep in the paper work of the last patient.

"Take a seat Joe, I'll be with you in a moment."

Joe sat down as Abigail crossed the room to the corner she usually occupied during his sessions. Doctor Edwards signed a final sheet of paper with a flourish and turned to survey the young man before him. Easily in his fifties with salt and pepper hair, he had a strong jawline and a physique which bore a whisper of super fitness in youth which had been left to grow old gracefully. His dark eyes were quick to twinkle and he often reminded Joe of Fenton during the times when he had snapped in frustration in his earlier appointments as his renowned impatience had won out in the battle of wills. Doc Edwards had barely blinked in response at his raging charge before him and instead had quickly adapted to Joe's changing mood finding new ways to encourage his progress.

"Right so, how are we doing today?" he asked with a quick smile.

"Same old I guess," Joe replied, lifting his hand to touch his shoulder without realising "I mean the pain's still there but it does ease off quicker these days."

"Good, good," Doc Edwards replied nodding and standing up from his seat "mind if I take a look?"

Joe walked towards the doctor, easing up his shirt so it exposed the still pink scarring left by the bullet. Doctor Edwards laid a hand over it and also at Joe's back where it had exited just above the shoulder blade. Getting Joe to move his arm around he assessed the roaming muscles under his skin, all the while watching Joe from the corner of his eye to check for any signs of discomfort.

Taking a step back he cocked his head to survey the scar in all it's glory. Opening his mouth with the obvious intent at laying out what the rest of the appointment would entail, he was distracted by the sudden dimming of the lighting in the room. He looked up with a cocked eyebrow at the ceiling light before turning his head towards his computer which had abruptly flicked off.

"Odd..." he said as the ceiling lights flickered once again.

The three of them whipped their heads towards the closed door of the office when a loud noise which was unmistakeably a gunshot ripped through the persistent background hum of hospital sounds.

Torn from his reverie by the screams of the people outside, Joe pulled his shirt back on and made to make towards the door when the room was plunged into a sudden darkness. The screams continued in parallel to the complete silence of the office and the shocked occupants inside. Silence which Abigail broke.

"They're here."

Okey dokey then! Off on a new adventure.

All comments and critiques welcome as usual.

Sarah