Recovery

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters. There are OCs that are mine, but that's all.

Rating/Setting: Rating is T. Setting is pre-blue spine and AU. This story is a sequel to "Taken" which should be read before reading this story. "Fall Thievery" is also referenced later in the story. Boys are about 16/17.

Author's Notes: So here we are with the sequel to "Taken"! Taken took place in late May through early/mid-July. This story will cover the beginning of Joe's recovery process and covers mid-July through December (or maybe Jan., still finishing up the story). There will be a lot elements that carry over from "Taken" as there are things that are still 'open' and haven't been complete (think trial) and then Joe's actual emotional and physical recovery. School will be starting back and all the teenage intrigue that goes with it. So you will find this story to be a melting pot of things. I hope you enjoy it.

*And please don't take the first chapter as the basis for the whole story. The topic of this chapter doesn't have a lot to do with this part of the story arc. Be thinking of this chapter as a hint at a possible future story. ;-)

Chapter One

About a week after Joe's return to Bayport after the events from "Taken"…

Joe swung into the kitchen on his crutches and smiled at his mom. "Do you think I can have a snack?" he asked innocently.

Laura seemed to contemplate the question for a moment and then returned her younger son's smile. Standing up, she put down the envelope that had been in her gloved hands. Peeling off the latex gloves, she turned toward the refrigerator. "I think we can manage a small snack. Supper isn't that far away you know." Grabbing a snack pack of carrots and ranch and a bottle of water, she closed the frig door with her foot and turned to place the snack items on the table in front of Joe who was carefully propping his crutches against the table beside him.

Watching his mother as she sat back down and donned the gloves again, he asked, "Anything interesting?"

Since he had been recovered, letters had been arriving for him from well-wishers and the occasional jerk. The FBI had suggested to the Hardys that all of Joe's mail should be opened with gloves. This was in case a member of the trafficking ring that hadn't been caught might send him some piece of mail. It was a long-shot, but they suggested it might be good to do for a month or so until the mail load lessened. Joe was also supposed to let the FBI know of any suspicious emails he received. Joe himself thought it more likely that he would get an email than regular mail, but he was willing to go along with the request.

Laura glanced at the pile of letters and envelopes that were on the table. "Not in the ones I've opened so far. Just have two left for today. You can go ahead and look through those," her head dobbed in the direction of the open stack, "if you want." Running the letter opener under the seal of the next letter, she continued her chore.

Crunching on a carrot, Joe started to flip through the various letters. It was nice that people were supportive of him. Hearing his mom laugh, Joe looked up from a letter. "Is it a funny one?"

Brows drawing together, Laura looked at the paper in front of her. "Well, I thought it was going to be a love letter or something, but now I'm not sure. They didn't even sign their name or write very much. Obviously someone has a crush on you." Laura turned the torn off cover of a magazine toward Joe.

Joe stared at the page and paled. His voice was a whisper as he asked, "Where did it come from?"

Concern was written all over Laura's face as she put down the paper and picked up the envelope. "It has a Canadian postmark from a few days ago." Putting down the envelope, she asked, "What is it, Joe?"

His eyes went to the page on the table. He had seen other issues of this magazine before, but not this particular one. The cover was a teenage boy with wavy blond hair and blue eyes that looked slightly like himself. The boy was sitting on a park bench and as a honey blonde girl leaned over the back and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. Written in black sharpie across the cover was 'Maybe we'll meet again.' Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he began scrolling through the contacts looking for Agent Gilroy's number. Pressing the call button, he looked at his mom and said, "It's from Marilyn Laird." Seeing the concern on his mother's face, he grabbed a crutch as he stood. Hobbling over to the window with the phone, he waited for Gilroy to pick up. The name of the magazine was familiar as it was one that he had been given to read while being held by the Lairds.

Joe didn't hear his brother Frank come in as he was giving information to Agent Gilroy who had picked up.

Having returned from a trip to the gym, Frank tossed his bag on the floor and went into the kitchen to find his mother looking pale and his brother on the phone. Turning to his mom, Frank said, "Joe's talking to Gilroy? What's going on?"

Laura turned the paper on the table toward Frank. "He says that Marilyn Laird sent it."

Frank looked at the cover and the words. It was obvious that Marilyn was implying some type of romantic relationship with Joe. No wonder his mother looked pale. She had to be disgusted. Not only had the Laird woman been a party to Joe's captivity and torture, she was at least as old as their own mother. Hearing Joe's phone call conclude, he looked at his brother's back. Did Joe tell them everything or had he held something back?

Pocketing his phone, Joe looked out the window and said, "Leave everything as it is. Agent Stevenson will be coming over in a few hours to get the evidence and to talk with me about Marilyn." Sighing as he turned around, he added, "And no, she didn't touch me like that." His eyes avoided his mother and brother. "I'm going to sit on the deck for a bit."

Frank and Laura looked at each other and then Frank picked up the water and the snack and headed out the back door onto the deck. Joe was in the process of pulling a chair into a shady spot when Frank moved it for him. Picking up the snack, he moved it onto a small table which he sat beside the chair he had moved for Joe. As Joe sat down, Frank got himself a chair and sat beside his brother. When Joe didn't say anything, Frank asked, "So if she didn't touch you like that, how did she touch you?"

Shooting a wry smile at Frank, Joe said, "I should have known you'd have caught that." Seeing Frank's serious expression, Joe's slight smile faded. Looking at brother he said, "You heard and read my statements to the FBI. She just looked at me sometimes so that I felt weird. You know, looking over my whole body when I didn't have much on." Looking away he said, "After my medical treatment for the cut and stuff, she came to see me. George was there. She ran her finger down my chest and stopped only at the sheet at my waist. She looked at me as she asked George if he needed any help with the bandages. When he said no, she that it was a shame or something like that." He paused and then continued, "It made me feel really uncomfortable and when I looked at George, he said that she wouldn't touch me but that she liked to flirt." Stopping, he drew a breath, "That was all. Nothing more. I'm sure she just sent that because she knew I didn't like her touching me."

Frank looked at his brother. He wasn't sure about Marilyn's reasons for sending the picture, but he didn't like them, whatever they were. Thoughts went through his mind again at what Joe could have suffered if he had been sold to someone different. While Joe went through hell, he was grateful that his brother had not been sexually abused. Knowing that their mother would want to know what had happened, Frank asked, "Do you want me to talk to mom?"

Joe's wry smile returned as he tried to lighten the mood, "Yeah, telling mom that a woman her age was hitting on me isn't something I really want to talk about with her."

Frank looked carefully at his brother. There were no wisecracks to be said. This just wasn't something he would ever tease his brother about.

Joe heard the door to the house close and he picked up the snack that he didn't really want anymore and looked at it. Stevenson would be here in a few hours and he was certain his dad was on his way home. His mom would have called him. Telling his dad again about Marilyn wouldn't be much easier than telling his mom, but he could do it. Grabbing the carrots, he tossed them to some squirrels under the large oaks in the yard. At least someone would get to enjoy his snack. Standing, he grabbed his crutch and headed back inside to wait for his father and the FBI.

A few hours later…

Joe watched Agent Stevenson as he looked at the magazine cover. His gloved hand turned the cover to face Joe. Joe stared at the agent and then when he didn't say or ask anything, Joe allowed his eyes to go to the cover and then back to the agent.

Aiden Stevenson was not uncompassionate toward the teenager in front of him. Joe Hardy had been remarkably resilient in the week since he was recovered. But they all knew that the boy would have to relive unpleasant aspects of his kidnapping and confinement in the coming months as cases were built against those that didn't plea bargain or that those that weren't given the option. Dominic Laird was a case in point. Chances were that his defense team would go for not guilty by reason of insanity. Stevenson was hoping they'd plead guilty to a lesser charge to avoid the possibility of a guilty verdict. If he didn't, then the teenager in front of him would have to face the man that tortured and hunted him.

But that wasn't what he was here for now. Marilyn Laird had so far avoided capture and her husband wasn't divulging anything about what aliases she might be using or where she might go. This was the first clue they had, but there were some pieces missing. "Why did you tell your family this was from Marilyn Laird?"

Joe's eyes slowly returned to the picture. He was very aware that his father and brother were sitting behind him. He wanted them present as he had already told them everything. His mom, well, he just wasn't comfortable talking about this in front of her. "Women's World was one of the magazines I was given to read while convalescing in North Carolina. As Mrs. Laird was the only woman I ever saw there, I made the assumption it was hers." Joe's eyes went back to Stevenson's. "The guy in the picture resembles me and the woman has the same coloring and hairstyle as Mrs. Laird. The words imply that I know the person who sent the picture." Joe's eyes traveled back to the picture. "And she seemed to enjoy making me feel uncomfortable."

"But she never touched you."

Joe's voice was calm but a thread of irritation was creeping into it. "I already told you everything. It's all in my statement. The way she looked at me. Her suggestion that she could help change my bandages while running a finger down my chest. It's all there. There's nothing new to tell." Joe's voice raised a little, "The woman flirted with me and it scared the crap out of me."

Stevenson had read both Joe and George Rand's statements. Marilyn Laird kept to herself much of the time and Rand didn't have much exposure to her. The most he saw her was when she needed to take some packages to house and when she came to visit whatever unlucky soul was the object of her husband's obsession. Marilyn and Dominic were a pair of psychopaths as far as he was concerned. The woman took perverse pleasure in visiting the boys who were imprisoned. Rand had told the FBI that as far as he knew, Marilyn had never touched any of the boys in a sexual manner.
But Rand had also said that Marilyn seemed especially interested in Joe. Stevenson looked at the teenager in front of him as he put the evidence back into a collection bag. Joe's irritation was easily seen in his demeanor, but even that didn't take away from the teen's good looks.

"I think that's all we need for now," Stevenson said as he stood. "I appreciate your patience with me, Joe. It's just part of the job."

Joe squirmed a little as he stood. "Yeah, I know. It's just- it's just not something I want to dwell on."

Stevenson caught Fenton's eye as he walked toward the door and gave a small tilt of his head.

Fenton saw the small gesture and looked to his sons. For once neither of them was paying attention as Joe had sat back down and Frank was moving over to check on him. Turning back to the agent, he said, "I'll walk you out, Aiden." Falling into step behind Stevenson, he stopped for a moment to reassure his wife that Joe was okay and that he was sure that he and Frank would be coming out in just a few minutes. With that said, he followed Stevenson out onto the porch and closed the door. "What is it you're not telling us?"

Stevenson looked to the closed door behind Fenton. "Everything Joe said matches up with Rand's account."

"So?"

"But there are some things Joe doesn't know. Rand basically told Joe that Marilyn wouldn't touch him, except that she already had touched him." Stevenson turned back to Fenton who was frowning. "She ran a finger down his chest. Rand said that before Joe she had never physically touched any of the boys. He said that Joe was the best looking boy that Laird had hunted and that he had been a little worried about what Mrs. Laird would do the longer Joe was there."

Fenton stiffened. "Well, she's sure to stay away from here with law enforcement on the lookout for her." He knew that wasn't a guarantee, but he wanted it to be true. Of course, he had thought the boys would be safe from the trafficking ring as long as they weren't out alone with their girlfriend. Seeing that Stevenson glanced back at the door, Fenton asked, "Is there more of this merry news you have?"

Looking down at the porch for a moment and then up to Fenton, the agent said, "Marilyn Laird is an expert hunter." Stevenson watched as Fenton grabbed the railing behind him to steady himself. "That's how she and Dominic met – big game hunting in Africa. He became churlish because she was actually better than he was. Hunting wasn't her obsession, so she gave it up and chose to be a spectator more or less."

"Do you think she'll come after Joe?"

"At some point, she may. But as I said, hunting didn't seem to be her passion. The only thing is she doesn't seem to want to lose her hold on him." Stevenson paused and said, "I'm sure you'll be doing some investigating of your own. I'll be sure to share anything we come across." Holding up the evidence bag he added, "At least we know she went to Canada and we can try to track her from there." Moving past Fenton, Stevenson said, "Keep in touch."

As the worried father watched the FBI agent leave, he said, "You can be sure that I will." As the car pulled out of the drive, Fenton turned a thoughtful gaze to the door of his house. What to tell? WHO to tell? He would have hell to pay if something happened to Joe, but right now, he couldn't burden his family with this information. Sam. He'd tell Sam… and Ezra. If he told more than those two he'd risk a leak that could be pretty damaging to him. Yes, the three of them would work to keep Joe safe and find Marilyn Laird before she came hunting Joe.

With a rough plan in his mind, Fenton pushed away his investigator side and entered his house to see how his family was dealing with this latest wrench in the works.

.**********.

Frank moved up to take the seat that Stevenson had vacated. "Well, I think that went well," he said in a serious voice.

Joe arched a brow as he glanced over at his brother. "How so?"

Smiling, Frank said, "Anytime your temper flares up and you don't hit anyone, I count it as having gone well."

Joe stared for a moment at his brother and then laughed. "Yeah, I know. I didn't go all 'Joe Hardy' on him as you like to put it."

"I'm sure that he wouldn't have pressed charges, but it would have been a tad bit embarrassing."

Leaning his head back, Joe stared at the ceiling as him fingers drummed on the table. "I hope that's the last I'll see of the FBI for awhile."

Knowing that things were still up in the air about Joe having to testify in some of the cases, Frank looked to change the subject. "I wanted to get your opinion on something."

"Video game? Car?" Joe asked as he smiled and his gaze returned to his brother.

Returning the smile, Frank said, "Not this time. I wanted to see if you were okay with me trying out for the football team this year."

Joe's smile left to be replaced with a frown. "You're not thinking of baby-sitting me are you? Because if you are-"

Hands in the air as if to ward off an attack, Frank said, "Hold on. Hold on. Since when did you start thinking that getting tackled was baby-sitting? For the record, yes, I do want to keep my eye on you." When Joe went to object, Frank cut him off as his voice softened. "But it's my senior year and I want to spend as much time with you as possible. If we're on the team together, that gives us more time."

Joe hesitated. "But that means you won't be able to be on the debate team and you were captain and your team won the district and placed at the state level."

A lopsided grin appeared on Frank's face. "Are you saying that some of our discussions couldn't be classified as a debate? Say perhaps even this one?"

Looking at this brother and thinking of what he just said, Joe replied with a smile that was starting to form, "No, I wouldn't classify this one as a debate, but I'll admit that others have been." Joe's smile faltered, "I just don't want you to give up something you love just to keep an eye on me. I can take care of myself."

Frank looked down at the table. Joe could take care of himself. Quite well in fact, based on what he had read from Joe's statements and from Joe himself.

Sensing his brother's turn toward insightful thought, Joe sat forward. "There was NOTHING, NOTHING you could have done that would have changed what happened, Frank. I've been thinking it over and over since it happened and there is no scenario that puts us as escaping what those kidnappers had planned."

Looking in to his brother's eyes, Frank could see that Joe meant every word. "You know I did play football in my sophomore year."

A bigger smile appeared on Joe's face. "Yeah, I remember. I was a freshman and it was the first high school sport we played together." Joe's smiled lessened. "I missed you being around last year." Then after a short pause, he said, "I'd love to play football with you this year, Frank." Then he laughed, "You know with this injury, Coach may not even want me on the team. Wouldn't that be ironic? You on the team and me not?"

Frank smiled at his brother. "Like there's any way that Coach Daimler wouldn't let you be on the team. You were all conference both years and made all-state last year." Frank watched his brother shrug off the praise. "Do you think I'll be good enough to get a position on special teams again?"

A thoughtful look appeared on Joe's face as he looked at his brother. "Yeah," he said slowly. "It better be special teams. I don't want you gunning for my spot as tight end."

"Not a chance, bro. Not a chance," Frank laughed. Joe could run and block which made him an excellent tight end on offense. Frank liked the challenge of visualizing the field as he returned kick offs and punts. Having scored several touchdowns on runbacks, he thought he'd have a place on the team.

Standing up, the two made their way from the office. Fenton was coming in from the front porch but neither boy remarked on it. Their minds were on the thought of playing football together. For Joe, it was spending time with his brother who would be going off to college soon. And as for Frank, he did plan on keeping an eye out for Joe. His brother had been through a lot and he didn't need any crap from any jerks at school or on the other teams.

Fenton and Laura watched as their two boys headed into the kitchen. Supper had been put on hold while the agent was there and now it was time to sit down and eat.

As Laura stood and watched her sons, her husband came over and put his arm around her. "How, Fenton?"

"How what?" Fenton asked in a perplexed tone.

"How did we raise two amazing boys like them?" She was amazed at their resiliency.

Placing a soft kiss on the side of her head, he said, "I think it has a lot to do with their mother."

Laughing Laura looked up and kissed his cheek. "Well, I'm sure their father had a lot to do with it too." Poking him in the ribs, she said, "Now let's join them. You know those two could eat everything without any help from us." Taking his hand, she led him into the kitchen to enjoy a family meal that had seemed less than possible just hours earlier.