A/N: My apologies to anyone who has gotten another alert for these two chapters. For some reason when I posted this story the first time, it could only be accessed via the link in the email alerts; it was not visible on the HB/ND story page. So I deleted it and I'm trying again. Hope it works this time:)

Guilty

Chapter 2

Joe shot straight up in bed, staring out into the darkness in absolute terror. His heart was racing and his breathing was coming in short, labored gasps. He was visibly shaking but could not remember the nightmare that had just awakened him. It felt as if a cold hand were squeezing his heart and he was close to tears. 'This one was bad. Really, really bad.'

He knew this one had not been the recurring nightmare where he watched his car go up in flames taking Iola Morton with it. Even after all these years he still had that nightmare, albeit less frequently than before. He had long ago resigned himself to the fact that the day Iola died would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. It had actually gotten to the point where he knew what would trigger that horrible dream. Her birthday and the anniversary of the day she died were the obvious ones. Slowly, over the years, he had become acutely aware of the other ones. Every four years during the Presidential elections he could count on an increase in the number of times he had that dream. Seeing a yellow car like the one he and Frank drove at that time was another trigger. Meeting a woman named Val was a surefire guarantee he would be rudely awakened in the night.

This one tonight though, the one that had evoked this reaction was different. He actually found he was grateful he could not remember it, given not only the terror he was feeling but also the overwhelming feeling of hate and rage. Joe's short temper was legendary but he could not recall ever feeling the degree of hatred he did right now and it scared him. He had no idea what his over active imagination had come up with this time and he had no desire to find out.

He felt a hand on his back and nearly jumped out of his skin. 'Relax,' he commanded himself. 'It's just Vanessa.' He knew exactly what would happen next and thanked God once again for bringing Vanessa into his life. If not for her being there to get him through the aftermath of these nightmares, he felt he would have lost his sanity long ago.

"It's ok, Baby," she murmured in a low, soothing voice. "Just a bad dream. Everyone is safe."

Vanessa gently pulled him back down. He immediately curled up beside her laying his head on her shoulder. She pulled him close, absently running her fingers through his hair. As she continued to reassure him in a soft, comforting tone that those he loved were safe, she felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. 'This one was bad,' she thought. 'Much worse than usual.' Joe was still shaking and could not seem to stop. In the past two years, she had grown used to Joe sometimes waking up in the night, often crying out in anguish. When this happened she never asked him what it was he had dreamt about; she knew it usually revolved around the day Iola was killed.

Sometimes though, when a case he was working on was particularly brutal, he would dream about his father or brother being seriously injured or killed while he stood by watching helplessly, unable to prevent it. Those were the nights he would tell her about the dreams, needing her reassurance that everyone he loved was indeed safe. Tonight though, he was not talking. In a way, Vanessa was glad. She was not at all sure she wanted to know what induced such a strong reaction from Joe.

After several minutes Vanessa's breathing became slow and even. Although she still held him close, Joe knew she had fallen asleep. Joe, however, stared out into the darkness, eyes wide open. There was no way he would be going back to sleep tonight. He replayed Vanessa's soft voice in his head over and over again, telling him everyone was safe. She was always there for him when these nightmares occurred and thankfully never once asked him for details. If he needed to talk about them she would hold him close and listen, but never, ever asked about them should he choose to remain silent. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. '4:02 a.m.' glowed in red. 'Only a few more hours until day break.' Joe thought staring at the bedroom window. He had no intention of closing his eyes again.

Over the next few hours, the terror of whatever he had dreamt about refused to let go. When the pitch darkness started to turn a light gray, indicating the sun would soon start to rise, he removed Vanessa's arms from around him being careful not to wake her and got out of bed. He went out to the living room and lay down on the couch turning on the television and lowering the volume. For the next few hours, he methodically searched the channels looking for anything to distract him from the terror that still gripped him. Never in his life had he had such an intense reaction to a nightmare. He did not even want to contemplate what he could have possibly dreamt about.

By the time Vanessa wandered out of the bedroom later that morning, Joe was on his third cup of coffee. Rubbing her eyes, she curled up next to him on the couch.

"Morning, Babe," Joe said kissing the top of her head. "Want some coffee?"

"Not yet, thanks," she replied watching him closely. His hand shook ever so slightly as he worked the remote, not really seeing anything that appeared on the television screen. "Are you okay?" she asked with concern.

"Sure, I'm fine," he replied with a little too much enthusiasm. "It's Saturday. We can spend the whole day together, doing whatever we want. What's not okay about that?"

After six years together, she knew the signs. He had no intention of talking about what had happened during the night. She knew it must have continued to bother him long after she had gone back to sleep. He was rarely up before she was during the week and never on the weekends.

"You got me there. So what do you want to do today? Are we meeting Frank and Callie for breakfast?"

"Uh-uh." He shook his head finally turning off the television. "We're going to see them tonight anyway. Why don't we just spend a quiet day at home?"

Warning bells went off in Vanessa's head. There was a fresh blanket of snow on the ground outside, it was going to be a perfect winter day and Joe wanted to stay cooped up inside? Something was definitely not right. She recalled the drastic change in his attitude the night before when Karen had brought up the serial rapist. 'Maybe this case is bothering him more than I realized.'

As Joe had suggested, they spent a quiet day at home alone. Vanessa had to admit she enjoyed having Joe all to herself for once with no distractions, instead of being caught up in the whirlwind of activity that usually followed him wherever he went. By late afternoon, they were getting ready for the surprise party his parents were having for Frank and Callie. The following day was their six-month wedding anniversary. Laura Hardy had told Frank and Callie she wanted to have a small family dinner to celebrate. In reality, she had planned a surprise party for them, inviting all their friends and many of the people who had attended the wedding. Joe and Vanessa arrived early to help Laura and Fenton get everything set up.

"Wow, everything looks great!" Vanessa exclaimed as she and Joe walked into the kitchen of the house where Joe grew up. Laura and Gertrude Hardy, Fenton's sister, were putting the finishing touches on the food to be served. "What can we do to help?"

Laura looked up from the tray of food she was working on. Immediately she knew something was bothering her youngest son. "Gertrude, can you show Vanessa where the last of the decorations are so she can put them up for me?" she requested.

Gertrude led Vanessa to the living room lecturing her on the precise method she should use to hang the decorations. Joe had to suppress a laugh, feeling sorry for his fiancée.

"What can I do, Mom?"

Laura wiped her hands on a towel and walked around the counter to stand next to Joe. "You can tell me what's bothering you," she replied in a no nonsense tone looking directly into his tired blue eyes.

"Mom, I'm twenty-three years old. I'm not a baby anymore," Joe said a little embarrassed.

"I don't care how old you get, young man," she replied, then smiled. "You'll always be my baby. Now out with it. What's wrong?"

Joe sighed. "Honestly, Mom, I'd like to tell you what's bothering me but I can't."

She looked at him questioningly but remained silent.

"I had a dream last night – a nightmare, I guess."

"Iola?" she asked sympathetically.

"No, something else. I don't know exactly what I dreamt about but…" he hesitated, his voice almost a whisper. "It scared me, Mom. I mean really scared me."

Looking at Joe now, Laura saw the little 6-year-old boy who would flee to his older brother when the monsters invaded his dreams at night. She recalled going in to Frank's room many times to wake him for school only to find Joe huddled safely in his older brothers arms. Over the years the nightmares became less frequent and seemed to have stopped completely by the time Joe had reached his teens. All that changed when Iola died. Those nightmares returned with a vengeance only now the monsters were real. However, since he was older Joe felt he could handle them on his own and rarely sought comfort from anyone, which deeply concerned Laura. She held her arms out and Joe gratefully accepted the hug from his mother.

"I've been trying to remember all day. It just spooks me that something could terrify me like that and I don't even know what it was. I've always been able to remember my dreams. Even when I'd rather not," he chuckled.

Laura stepped back and reached up to touch his cheek. "Maybe you shouldn't even try to remember it, honey. Just let it go."

Fenton had walked into the kitchen a moment earlier and over heard the conversation between Joe and Laura.

"Your mother is right, son," Fenton said putting a hand on Joe's shoulder. "You know many times people who are involved in serious accidents or victims of traumatic events never remember the details of what happened to them. The subconscious protects them from things that it deems too traumatic to remember. Sounds like you're having the same reaction. I know it's easy for me to say, but try not to worry about it."

Joe nodded, thinking about what his father had said.

"With that imagination of yours, God only knows what you were dreaming about!" Fenton joked. "Remember, it was just a dream, not real life. Unfortunately, the occasional nightmare comes with the job. I've had some real doozies myself!"

"You, Dad?" Joe asked, surprised.

"Yes, me. Your brother, too. So, you're not alone in this. Try to relax and enjoy yourself tonight. You've got a reputation to uphold, you know." Joe was known as the life of the party and was often the center of attention at the gatherings he attended. "Just try not to outshine Frank and Callie too much; after all it is their party," Fenton concluded with a laugh.

Joe reached out, putting his arms around his parents, who held him close.

"Thanks," he said quietly. 'Sometimes it's good to be the baby,' Joe thought smiling. Whatever had caused him to wake up in a panic the night before was fast becoming a distant memory.