A/n: Did ya miss me? I really wanted to wait until this was at least half done before posting, so that I could post a new chapter more often than once a week, but that isn't happening. partly because there have not been any good new stories posted lately that I wanted to read so I wanted to give you all an early present. and partly because I know if I do not start posting and thus force myself to write to keep up, I will never finish. There will be a lot of graphic language throughout. you have been warned.

Revenge

Officer Greg Herndon of the Bayport Police department paced nervously outside the cruise terminal in Bayonne NJ. Not for the first time, he wished that the Immigration and Customs officials had allowed him to enter and watch for his target inside. The rain and bitterly cold wind was only part of the reason. The real reason was that he would not relax until he had eyes on Joe and Halloran Hardy in person. Even then he would not allow himself the luxury of breathing easy until they had been safely delivered to the secure location where Laura Hardy had already been moved to.

After about 30 minutes of misery, the TSA official standing by the exit from the luggage pickup area took pity on the young police officer and invited him to stand inside. "You shoulda said you needed to make an arrest, Son." the grizzled gentleman joked. "You woulda gotten personally escorted to the Customs area then."

"I thought about it. It's protective custody actually. But I didn't want to ruin the last minutes of their honeymoon." Herndon replied. He sent the next few minutes in idle chitchat, keeping a close eye on every face as it passed into the warehouse like holding area. As soon as the TSA agent learned that the Hardys had been in a suite, he brought Greg over to the area where suite luggage had been deposited. The area was sectioned off, with a separate entry although everyone did leave into the parking lot the same way.

It wasn't too long after that that Greg saw Joe's distinctive blond curls peeking out over the top of the crowd. If anything, they were lighter than ever, testimony that unlike home, their destination had not been plagued by dismal weather. He nodded his thanks to the TSA officer and made his way purposefully through the throng, meeting the newlyweds as they snagged their luggage. "Want a lift?" he asked too casually.

Joe started, grinning as he turned around, only to immediately grow alarmed as he saw who it was. "Where's Frank?!" he exclaimed, panic clouding his voice. "What's happened?!" he continued without taking a breath. Halloran instinctively moved closer, sensing Joe's dread. Greg held up his hands in a 'calm down' gesture but his tone of voice did not instill any confidence whatsoever.

"Frank's fine. Everyone is fine." Greg said. "I just thought I'd do him a favor and pick you up myself."

"In uniform?!" Joe's voice positively dripped with sarcasm. He knew something was up. He pulled his petite wife closer to his side. "Spit it out, Dude."

Greg sighed. He knew it was too much to hope that Joe would not see right through the charade. "Not here. In the car." He reached over and took Halloran's cary on from her shoulder and adroitly snagged the garment bag from the pile at Joe's feet and headed out, forcing the newlyweds to scramble after him.

Joe stopped short at the sight of their ride. It was Greg's police cruiser, trunk already unlocked and opened by the time they had caught up. Greg refused to say another word beyond telling Joe to put the rest of the bags in the trunk. He opened the passenger door and offered Hall a hand as she slid into the seat but not before giving Greg a very sharp look. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but based on the narrowing of her eyes he knew she wasn't fooled for a second. Joe was no more easily reassured either. He refused to duck into the seat and instead placed his hand on the top of the door, forcing Greg to look him the eye. "What the hell is going on, Herndon?!" he growled.

"Please, Joe, just get in the car and I swear I will explain on the way." Greg pleaded. Joe just shook his head and whipped out his cell phone. He quickly switched out of airplane mode and swiftly scrolled through his contacts until he found his brother. With a pointed look at his friend, Joe dialed Frank.

"Just get in the car, Joe." Frank's voice came out over the speaker, slightly tinged with equal parts amusement and exasperation. He had been waiting for this call for the last 45 minutes. "Everyone is fine for now but you really need to get back here ASAP."

"Dammit Frank what's going on?!" Joe exploded, fear warring with anger and winning for the moment.

"Greg will explain the basics and I will fill you in on the details when you get to the safe house." it was the wrong thing to say and as soon as the words left his mouth Frank cringed at the inevitable explosion.

"SAFE HOUSE?!" Joe screeched into the phone causing Greg to step back, Frank to wince and Halloran to gasp in fear, a cold shiver running down her spine.

"Please, Joe. Just let Greg drive, okay?!" the elder brother pleaded. "Mom can't wait to see all the pictures you guys took." As soon as the words left his mouth, Frank knew it was once again the wrong thing to say. If Laura was going to be there, it meant something very big was going on.

Instead of shouting, though, Joe stood up straighter and dropped his voice into a low growl. He glared daggers at Greg as he bit each word off. "Dammit Frank what the hell is going on?!"

Frank sighed deeply. "There's been a contract put out on you." He refused to say anything more, hoping that it would be enough to get his brother to cooperate. He felt Joe's shocked reaction, silent though it was. "Please, Little Brother, just get in the car and let Greg get you two to safety."

It was enough to get him to stop fighting the issue. Joe hung up without another word and slipped into the police cruiser and immediately pulled his wife close, kissing the top of her head as he closed his eyes. It was unthinkable. Contracts were cliché. Drug dealers and gangs used them to get rid of competition, but the Agency hadn't been remotely connected to either in years. Maybe his last FBI job? Joe mentally dismissed that. His cover was intact, he was sure of it, although he made a mental note to call his handler as soon as he could access a secure phone line. He murmured soft reassurances into Halloran's ebony tresses but was otherwise silent the entire ride.

Greg tried to diffuse the tenseness by asking questions about the honeymoon and soon Halloran was excitedly recounting all their adventures. Joe was uncharacteristically silent the entire time, and although Hall sent worried glances his way, as soon as he saw her do that he erased his troubled look and gave her a soft smile. The only time he spoke was about an hour later when he asked where they were headed.

"New place. I haven't even seen it yet. Figure maybe another 45 minutes or so before we get there." The address was in his head, having been instructed to not use GPS. He had spent a long hour memorizing the route he was given at the precinct earlier that morning. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to his grandfather, who had taught him as a young boy how to read maps and commit them to memory quickly. When Halloran asked what that meant, Joe began to explain, trying to make light of it.

"We get to extend our honeymoon a little longer is all, Dear." he enthused a little too brightly. She gave him a look that told him she wasn't buying a word of it. His smile faded and his deep sapphire blue eyes became serious. "It'll be okay, I promise." He stared at Greg via the rear view mirror, silently begging him to agree. He took the hint.

"Really, It's no bid deal, Halloran. Just a little extra caution is all. It will be only for a day or so."

"But why do we need to go there?!" she demanded. "I have to do laundry, and I need to get ready to go back to work tomorrow!"

"I am pretty sure there's a washer and dryer at the safe house, Dear." Joe teased. "Besides do you really wanna go back to the drudgery of work?" He leered at her suggestively.

"Some of us have reputations to maintain and deadlines to meet." she sniffed. "And I bet Phil is ready for a break, considering he has a newborn at home." She gave her husband a reproving glance. "I did promise him 2 weeks off when I got back."

"Babe, I'd be a lot happier if you were safely tucked away. Phil will understand. We'll make it up to both of 'em." Joe pleaded earnestly.

"But why do we need to go there?!" she asked again, this time with more panic in her voice.

Joe recalled the words of wisdom his father had passed on the night of his bachelor party at the cabin. Once again he looked into the rearview mirror and silently asked Greg for his opinion. Greg refused to take sides and just resolutely paid attention to the road. Joe rolled his eyes, causing Greg to grin and stick his tongue out in return. He then turned to his wife and adjusted his arm so that the cast, now vey dingy and covered with autographs from half the cruise staff, was behind her shoulders. "Because I want you safe and out of the line of fire."

"You said that already. Not good enough, StudMuffin." she glared back at him stubbornly.

"Someone has put a contract out on me. Which means by extension you are in danger too." Joe finally said the words out loud, making it real. While he was no stranger to being the target of nefarious people, it was never when he was married and certainly not officially. Usually it was just someone swearing revenge, not someone willing to go through the trouble of hiring a professional.

Halloran blanched at the words. "A contract?!" she asked incredulously. "As in a real Old School Mafia type contract?!" At her breathless statement, Greg winced, and unfortunately Joe caught it.

"Spit it out, Greg." he growled.

Greg sighed. "Vincente." one word, but it was enough for Joe's hair to stand on end. "It's worse than you think." the police officer reluctantly continued.

"Pretty sure it can't get much worse than that, Pal." Joe wryly commented even as he forced down the wave of fear that threatened to bring his breakfast back up.

"It does. Trust me." Herndon was reluctant to say anything more in front of Halloran. She, however noticed right away that he was holding something back and forcefully declared she was perfectly capable of handling anything , thankyewverymuch. After a questioning eyebrow in Joe's direction, Greg sighed again when he got the nod of approval.

"Are you sure?" he asked, hoping the question would cause Joe to backtrack.

"Yes I am sure." was all Joe said with little of his trademark sarcasm.

"Mazzola."

Joe gasped and true fear began gripping his gut. "They're dead." He managed to speak without his voice squeaking or trembling.

"The two younger ones are. Not Big Brother. The one who taught them everything they knew." Greg hated to tell him, especially with Halloran sitting right there.

"Who's Mazzola?" she asked, confused and alarmed by Joe's reaction.

He pulled her closer and she could feel his trembling. "My back." He whispered into her hair, and this time his voice did crack. While rare, he still had nightmares and once or twice she had been witness to them. And one night months earlier he told her in sanitized terms exactly what had happened to him. Any rash thoughts he may have had about leaving Halloran at the safe house and going after the people behind the contract promptly fled and he was rapidly becoming a scared little six year old afraid of the monsters under the bed again. This time he was going to hide, and he didn't care what people said about it.

Not just because he was now a married man, either, although he tried to justify it that way. In all honestly, Joe Hardy was terrified. Afraid as he had never been afraid before or probably ever would be in future. If anything or anyone could make him doubt himself, it was this. Vincente, cold, calculating and scary as hell in his pinstriped suit and white carnation. The old man had quite calmly told him that his life was forfeit and then handed him over to a pair of sadistic bastards. And according to Greg, the older brother was worse.

"Why now, Greg? Why is the Old Man suddenly after my blood?" he asked after composing himself enough to speak clearly.

"The Old Man is dead, Joe. It's the son that wants you. Mario Junior." Greg gently explained. "Think Sonny Corleone. Or Phil Leotardo. Vicious SOB who really doesn't like you." For the next ten minutes he narrated Joe's close calls in the days prior to his wedding, causing both newlyweds to become increasingly agitated. He began by explaining that Aldo Mazzola, eldest brother, returned from exile to find his siblings had been killed and asked Mario Senior for permission to seek retribution. Having been granted permission, Mazzola tried to kill Joe by sabotaging the Impala. When that failed, he instead sought to finish the job by sending him over a cliff on the way to his wedding. "That flat tire? Was no accident." He continued by explaining that meanwhile, the son had decided to finish the job by taking out the rest of the Hardy men. Only Joanna's arriving at the Agency to do paperwork and discovering the bomb had averted that disaster. When the Patriarch discovered all this, he flatly the whole thing off. "Junior shot the Old man in cold blood, then enlisted Mazzola's help. They planned on hitting you as soon as you got back."

"So what tipped you off?" Joe asked.

"We had help." Greg deftly dodged a semi with its' flashers on going up the steep hill before continuing his narrative. "Carl Vincent. Born Giancarlo Vincente. Youngest son and not happy with his brother. He's legit, too. Been feeding us as much info as he can. Of course, not being made, he doesn't have a lot. But he's been able to get us enough to know this ain't just words." he glanced back at the now obviously distraught couple. "Your father called in more than one favor, and Frank leaned on the FBI, reminding them of all your past assistance, in order to get the ball rolling." he reassured them.

"First time we've ever had advance notice somebody is out to get me." Joe tried to joke although his laugh was strangled.

"I always knew you were popular, Studmuffin. I just never knew how much so!" Halloran tried, but mostly failed, to make a joke out of the situation. Her voice was thick with tears. Joe shushed her, pulling her practically into his lap to hold her close. She allowed herself a moment of terror, clinging to him and not caring about a very embarrassed Greg in the front seat.

The rest of the drive was mostly silent, Greg opting to pay studious attention to the road, while Joe held his wife close. The only sounds were Halloran's sniffles as she vainly tried to maintain her composure. It was one thing to tell yourself you can handle anything, and quite another entirely to be faced with the reality. She wasn't sure she was up to the challenge.

Joe's mind was racing. He had exactly zero past history with the son, so honestly was flabbergasted as to why he was the target. He was getting damn sick and tired of always being the one to get shot, or kidnapped or put in mortal peril. (I am too old for this shit!) he angrily thought to himself as he tightened his embrace around Halloran. And now he had the added responsibility of being a married man. Ten years ago he would have been in a righteous snit and demanded to not only not be locked up for his own good, but to be an active participant in the hunt for the bad guys. Today he was older, wiser, and far more concerned about protecting his family. And that meant being cautious, patient and solicitous of their views. (How the hell did Dad do this for 30 years? And how the hell did Mom survive it?!)

Neither of them noticed when Greg bypassed the usual exit towards Bayport and continued on a few more miles before leaving the highway. Joe was still murmuring quiet promises that everything was going to be fine(despite not believing his own words) and Hall was desperately pretending to agree( despite not believing a word of it) when the police cruiser turned off the main road onto a long driveway. It wasn't paved, although the gravel was well packed and driving was smooth. Around a short curve and the land opened up, offering no cover whatsoever beyond a couple of trees situated far enough from the main house that they would present no safe haven for anyone trying to sneak up. Greg pulled up to the front and gave two short beeps of the horn. By the time he got out of the driver's seat and opened the door for Halloran, Frank was already outside and headed down the stairs.

"Welcome back!" he said, his grim tone of voice belying the smile he wore, mostly for Halloran's benefit. He went straight to the trunk and helped Greg pull out the luggage and indicated the new arrivals should precede him into the house. Once inside, Laura greeted them both with a far more sincere smile and wasted no time giving each a fierce hug and a kiss on the cheek. She also immediately took over and insisted that everyone have lunch first before getting down to business. Longstanding Family rules meant that no business would be discussed while food was on the table. Lunch was a huge pot of split pea and ham soup with crusty bread dripping with butter. Obviously Laura was bored at the safe house as not only was there the soup, but Joe glimpsed at least 3 pies on the kitchen island. Actually, scratch that. Not bored, worried. He thought back over the years to the time when his father was missing or either he or his brother were in some sort of trouble. Between them Laura and Gertrude could stock a bakery at times like that. He had a sneaking suspicion that Halloran would be the same way. Oh well. What he didn't eat he could give to the Youth Center.

Just as lunch was finishing up, Fenton arrived along with Paul Goddard, Greg's partner. Halloran got a quick peck on the cheek and Joe got a slap on the back before he sat down and appreciatively inhaled the aroma of piping hot soup. Goddard also accepted a bowl with thanks and wasted no time tearing into a hunk of bread and dipping it. Both men looked tired and rumpled. As they finished, Joe and Halloran fought over who was going to do dishes. Laura insisted that Joe help her and instructed Halloran to go upstairs and unpack. "The room at the far left of the hallway is yours, Dear. Just dump all the dirty clothes in the hamper. I'll show you where the laundry room is later. Why don't you take a little nap while you are up there?"

She immediately protested. "I am far too wired to even think about napping!" she cried heatedly. Joe stepped in before things got out of hand.

"Mom, whatever we discuss I want her there. It involves her now." Joe spoke decisively. He knew that his mother had never been all that involved nor known the true danger any of the men in her life had been in at times, but he was not going to shut Halloran out. He was going to let her be as informed and involved as she wanted. And if his mother disapproved, that was too bad. He went even further and told her to go find something to do and he and his wife would do the dishes together. He deftly swiped the towel she had flung over a shoulder and gently but firmly turned her towards the doorway. Laura was a bit miffed but when Fenton asked her to join him upstairs she took off with a little sniff.

Joe handed Halloran the towel and began running hot water into the sink, adding a steady stream of dish soap he had found in the same spot as they kept theirs at home, underneath the sink. He was silent as he scrubbed and rinsed, lost on his own thoughts. It wasn't until he realized that the dish rack was full that Halloran had not been keeping up with the drying. He turned to her and his hart lurched as he realized she was silently crying. He turned off the water and gently pulled her into his embrace, not caring that his hands were dripping wet. He knew it would do no good to tell her everything was fine and that there was nothing to worry about. He wasn't a good enough liar to convince himself, let alone her.

"How bad is it?" she whispered through her tears into his chest.

He chucked a finger under her chin and softly placed the lightest of kisses on her lips. "I honestly don't know." he whispered truthfully. At her look of doubt, he reiterated. "Honey, I really have no clue," he swore earnestly. "I know less than nothing about either of them. I only dealt with the Father and the two bastards that strung me up like a pinata. Didn't even know there was a son, let alone two and the thought of there being another Mazolla who is apparently worse the the other 2 put together scares the shit out of me." His brutal honesty with none of his trademark flippant attitude finally convinced her. "I meant what I said earlier, if you want to be a part of the strategy session, you will be right by my side the whole time. I promise to not do a thing without you knowing and giving your okay. We're a team now." Joe assured her with a soft smile.

Halloran regained her composure and turned to the task of drying the dishes. Since neither of them had a clue where anything went, she stacked everything on the island as it was dried and once everything was done they randomly opened drawers and cabinets until they found places for everything. Frank came in at one point and asked if they were about ready to discuss things. As soon as Joe told him they'd be done in a few minutes, he nodded and left.

As they were putting the last of the dishes away and generally wiping everything down, Joe asked his wife again if she was up to it. "I made a promise to myself a long time ago to stop being afraid and hiding from things. I am not my mother." she said, trying to convince herself that was true. "And besides you said it, we are a team. I will not leave you to face this alone." she was resolute if still unsure. Joe gave her a strong hug that lasted both too long and not long enough before reluctantly disengaging. With another smile he led her out into the hallway. "Once more into the breach, dear friends," he quipped, reminding them both of the first time they met. They walked into the dining room, where the large table that easily sat 12 was covered in paper, files and surrounded by the rest of the men. They looked up at the arrival of the newlyweds and Greg stood, offering his chair to Halloran. Frank looked intently at his brother and was a little mollified that he seemed to be very serious about the whole thing for a change. Joe slipped into the chair between his father and his wife and leaned forward to grab one of the scattered pieces of paper.

"So exactly how much shit is hitting the fan?" he asked to no one in particular. The soft murmurings between the others stopped and they all looked anywhere but at Joe. "That bad, huh?" he quipped but with a growing sense of dread.

"Son, we are doing everything in our power to keep you safe." Fenton started only to be waved off.

"Dad, the mere fact that you are here, actively involved and not asleep on the couch enjoying retirement is enough to convince me it's bad. Mom being tucked away all nice and hidden just makes it that much more serious. Just come out with it. How fucked am I?"

A/n: I can't guarantee a lot of mushy post honeymon bliss, nor have I quite yet decided just how badly I am going be beat up on the Blond One. All I will promise is there will be prolific Joe Whumping. literally and figuratively. Also do not expect Laura and Halloran to see eye to eye on a lot of things. generation gap and all that. I will post about once a week. I hope...