Link.

A/N: This is my very first, and probably last, fanfic, so I'd find all constructive criticism that anyone might have on this story very helpful. Also, if anyone is looking for romance, you probably won't find much of it here, since I think that as a thirteen year old (Don't judge!) I'm a little too young to write about and understand the nature of such things. I've also only read up to book sixteen of the series, since that is all I have been able to find, so if you feel that i'm missing something in my writing... I'm sorry. This could take place any time during which Jim is a teenager, and it is my take on the final, and probably more tragic, confrontation between Jones and Jim.

Disclaimer: I do not own Trixie Belden. All rights go to the publishers and the writers.

The day was dreary, the house was empty, and nobody knew what was going on in the room upstairs.

Because nobody was there.

Because nobody had found out yet.

This was what always happened when Jim Frayne faced the death of another. Because he was always the first one to find out, and then he was alone to deal with the first few hours.

But, usually, he was expecting it, and waiting for the pain to come. This was something that was unexpected - something that he had never really thought about.

For that, it had hit him so much harder, and he had shed tears for a man that he had never loved.

The letter slipped from his numb fingers and onto the floor, but Jim had already memorized the words:

Mr Frayne,

It is my duty to inform you of the slowly deteriorating life of one Jacob Jones. I have been informed by medics that he is in his final days, and am bound by duty as an officer of the law to tell you of his continuous requests for your presence.

Please note that I am aware of your position in this man's life.

Sincerely,

Sergeant Molinson, Sleepyside Police Station.

He found himself shaking, and lowered himself onto the bed, feeling almost scared at his own reaction.

"That man is a monster!" he reminded himself aloud, but his voice shook unsurely, and he drew his knees to his chest, burying his face in his hands. Jim hated how stupid this was - never, in his wildest dreams, had he imagined that he would be upset by his greatest enemy's looming death. But here he was, reduced to a shaking wreck, a single sentence running through his mind:

'... To tell you of his continued requests for your presence.'

Despite their history, Jim had never felt so compelled to grant any man's wish before.

For a long while he sat there, perfectly still, telling himself again and again that Jonsey was not worthy of his pity.

"He tried to kill Juliana," he hissed internally, "He tried to kill Trixie!"

When this, to his own surprise, triggered no reaction from his brain, he slowly uncurled from his tight ball.

"He was trying to kill me."

Then something snapped. He was down the stairs before he knew it, putting on his coat and slipping into the freezing winter air.

Nobody would notice his absence - this much he knew. Miss Trask and Regan were in the flat above the stables doing something-or-other, his parents and Honey had gone to town to do some shopping before Christmas, to which he had politely declined, the Beldens were on a family day trip a little ways south, Dan was working for Mr Maypenny, and Di was babysitting the twins. He was completely alone, and the thought made his blood turn to ice.

The letter had failed to mention the exact location of his stepfather, but once Jim was in the car, he seemed to go on autopilot, and when he stopped the engine and looked out the window it was to be greeted by the sight of Sleepyside Police Station.

The reception area was completely deserted when Jim walked in, and the man behind the desk slowly raised his head... then froze. Spider Webster had never looked so shocked - or dismayed.

"Why did you come?" he inquired in a low voice.

"Tell me he's here," Jim said without acknowledging the other's question, "Spider, please tell me he's here!"

Spider didn't take his eyes off Jim's face as he rose, his expression morphing into one of confusion and pity. "He's here," he assured the teenager, "But I don't understand... why...?"

"Take me to him."

Jim was almost pleading, and there was something - a little spark in his eyes - that made Spider nod, completely disregarding Molinson's order to 'Keep him away at all costs. For his own good.' He led Jim through a door and down to the med bay, glancing back when the other spoke again:

"Why was he not moved to the hospital?"

Spider's reply was rehearsed. "Too dangerous."

As they neared the end of the hall, Spider lay a hand on Jim's arm, effectively stopping the other in his tracks.

"Do you even know why he's asking for you, Jim?" The boy gave him a sharp glance.

"Do you?"

Spider sighed, and moved his hand to Jim's shoulder. "That man hates you with everything he's got."

For a moment Jim was silent. "That's exactly why I have to go in there. And he's the only remainder of my... my old life." he looked up, "Which room?"

The policeman pointed, and the red-haired youth opened the door and disappeared inside without a backwards glance.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Jim finally let the reality of his actions sink in. His mind and feelings were already a muddled mess, but when he saw the plain white bed in the center of the room, he swore that he almost lost it - memories of his parents returned in a tidal wave of emotions. He barely managed to swallow them back down, and forced himself forwards.

At first he saw nothing - just an empty bed - but then he drew closer, and the figure in the bed became apparent, staring with those wicked eyes at the approaching boy.

Jim had never seen, or expected to see, his stepfather so weak: his skin was white and papery, and his usually oily hair had become dull and limp. Even his eyes seemed sunken in, but they had not lost their insane gleam.

To Jim's surprise, Jonsey raised an arm to point at him, and used the other to raise himself in the bed.

"You."

His voice was raspy and weak, but the malice was undeniably clear. Jim found himself edging closer.

"Me," he said, sounding calmer than he felt. Jonsey smirked.

"They tell you... you're like your father..." his lips curled into a sneer, "They're wrong."

Jim was almost beside him now, and his stepfather was panting with effort.

"You're too much... too much... like your mother," Jim came closer, straining to hear his breathy words. Jonsey allowed himself a wider smile, "And you must not... taint... her memory."

There was a split second of silence, then Jonsey, seemingly gathering all his remaining strength, snatched Jim's wrist and produced a needle from under his covers, slicing into the teenager's palm. Then he fell back against the pillows, breathing heavily. Jim froze, too stunned, horrified, or both to move.

Jonsey's sparking eyes locked onto his, and the man released his final breath:

"I win."

Then his eyes glazed and his jaw went slack - his face frozen in mirthless insanity. The whole room suddenly reeked of death, and Jim choked, forcing himself away from the madman's body and out into the corridor again.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()() ()()()

He had returned home to find it exactly as he had left it, securely locking himself in his room to examine his injury.

Jonsey's motives remained a mystery to him, but the look of victory in the man's eyes as he had drawn back and dropped the needle was unforgettable. Jim looked down at the wound, knowing that he should treat it, but instead he stared at it and pondered.

It would definitely scar, and was certainly something that Brian and Trixie would notice straight away. However, rather than focussing on this, Jim fell back on his bed and cradled the injury to his chest.

To him, it served as a reminder that the last link to his old life was gone.

It was a reminder that he had lost everything.

A/N: So, liked, didn't like? Please tell me! I hope that none of the characters were OOC! This is meant to be a one-shot, but if anyone thinks otherwise, please mention it!