Note: Thank you to those reading and following the story. Special thank you to BMSH, BeeBee18, Andrea, Guest, LaurieQ, EvergreenDreamweaver, TinDog, Hero76, hlahabibty, max2013, and Penlew for your reviews, which were much appreciated.

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 2

Later that night, Joe and Vanessa's house was filled with company as everyone grabbed snacks and drinks and played with the various games in the living room while talking, laughing, and catching up. Pat Merkel and his girlfriend were challenging Biff Hooper and his girlfriend in Wii Fit Plus tennis, and they both looked so ridiculous swatting the control rackets in the air that everyone kept mocking them. Chet was challenging Tony to a pizza eating contest, and their partners were turning away in mock disgust. Everywhere Joe looked, his friends were hanging around and relaxing.

Of course, the biggest hit of the night was JJ, who had started the evening crawling all over the place so quickly that Joe had jokingly decided that, as with everything he did, there should be a competition, so Biff had orchestrated the first Game Night Crawl off, where Joe had just narrowly beaten his nephew. JJ did manage to beat Chet, who was mercilessly teased about it. But now, JJ lay asleep, despite the noise, in Callie's arms, as she sat cuddled next to Frank, who had his arm firmly around her, and next to Liz, who was lamenting the failure of her latest relationship.

He smiled. Life was good.

He felt Vanessa come up to him slip her hand into his. He looked at her and kissed her cheek, realizing that this was the first time today he had actually gotten a chance to speak with her. "Hey. Joe Hardy can throw a party, right?" he asked her, eyes twinkling.

"Ever the poet," Vanessa replied with a smile and squeezed his hand.

"Did you have fun today hanging with my big brother?" he asked her, more hopeful than he would have liked to admit.

"I really did," Vanessa answered, and Joe let out a small breath he hadn't even realized that he'd been holding.

"Good," he replied, pleased. "I'm glad you two are bonding. What'd you talk about?"

"Oh, you know- astrophysics; the meaning of life. When we had a small break in conversation, we decided to analyze 1984's "The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism." We wanted to start small." She kept a straight face. "What did you and Cal talk about?"

"Beer. And farting," he answered equally seriously.

"That's about right. Yeah," she responded, finally dissolving into laughter. "I don't know! Frank's a little shy- he always has been. But you know what? He's really smart. And he's funny; he really is. And let me tell you…" she paused for a moment as Joe listened, attentive. "He is the most amazing dad, Joe. He's so good with the baby. And he talks about Callie a lot. I just love how he loves her so much. And then, you know, he's sweet and personable and pretty helpful. We got the whole nursery set picked out."

Joe felt his heart swell with happiness. The day was getting better and better. "Shall I assume you ordered obnoxious paint colors to spruce the room up for our kid?" he queried, eyes dancing.

"Not yet, babe. Once we find out what we're having, then you can go crazy with the paint colors. All yours." She kissed his cheek. "How was the day with Callie? Did you talk?" She looked so hopeful.

"We did," he answered, releasing her hand and wrapping an arm around her waist. "You were right. She needed to talk. It's all good now. Promise."

"Well, it seems to be," she said softly. She motioned to the couch, where Liz had started talking animatedly to Stephanie, and where Frank and Callie were speaking quietly and had eyes only for each other. "I don't know what you said, but I'm sure you've made them both happy. You always do, babe. Thanks for interfering."

"I prefer 'intervening', but you're welcome," Joe replied easily, with a wink.

They stood together, observers for a bit at their own party, and enjoyed the feeling of closeness, of being on the same team with those they loved so much.

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On Monday, Joe kicked back at Frank's desk at the detective agency that they ran with their father, internationally known private investigator, Fenton Hardy, and waited for his brother to arrive. He wanted to check with him about how things had gone with Callie before their dad arrived for the daily update at 9:00.

When Frank walked into his office at 8:15, he was shocked to see his brother there. Frank looked at his watch. "Did Daylight Savings Time go into effect again, because you couldn't possibly be early." He looked questioningly at his brother before swatting Joe's feet off his desk and sitting on the chair behind it.

"Good to see you too, big brother," Joe joked.

Frank just sighed before breaking out into a long lasting cough. When the cough subsided, Frank just rubbed his eyes which, Joe noticed, were glassy and red. "What are you doing in my office?" Frank asked as he grabbed a bottle of water from behind the desk and took a long sip.

"I WAS rifling around to find the update on the Bill Daniels' file," Joe responded. Daniels was the half brother of Alan Cotnig and the former head writer on Criminal Hunters who had been instrumental in helping Cotnig infiltrate the set and orchestrate the kidnappings. Though he was apprehended, the trial had not yet begun, and Joe had wanted to triple check the paperwork to make sure that Daniels would be locked up for the remainder of his days. "But I also wanted to see how things went with Callie. Now, I want to see if you're okay. You look awful."

Frank gave a small smile."It's these stupid fall allergies. I was outside all yesterday and before we visited you and Vanessa on Saturday doing yard work, and they're killing me. Headache, cough, runny eyes, runny nose. Ugh," he finished. "Allergies suck."

"I think you're out for the Sexiest Man of the Week," Joe replied with a smirk, relieved that allergies were the only cause for Frank's misery. Frank had had fall and spring allergies since he'd been a kid, which was a real pain during football and baseball seasons. He had managed to combat it with the right combination of nose sprays and allergy medication, but eventually he seemed to have outgrown them. The last two years they had been back with a vengeance. "You're getting old."

"And YOU are terrible medicine," Frank replied. "Anyway, what's new?" He wiped at his eyes with a tissue. Reaching into the top drawer of his desk, he took out a bottle and popped two Tylenols into his mouth.

"You don't have to cry…" Joe teased.

"Joe!" Frank exclaimed, exasperated. He felt sick and he was exhausted, having stayed up to help Callie with the baby.

"JJ up all night again?" Joe asked."I love that your kid is a night owl like his uncle."

Frank smiled in spite of himself. "WAIT," he cautioned. "Just wait, little brother. It's all fun and games now- like, I don't know- Game Night Crawl Off?!- but when your kid comes along, suddenly the 'no sleep, always worried, feed the baby, change the diaper, check the monitor thing' gets real old, real fast. And when the kid is yours, you can't give him back. Remember that."

"Well then, who's the dumb one?" Joe asked, leaning forward. "You're doing it again!"

"Says YOU, whose wife wants ten kids!" Frank shot back.

At that moment, Fenton strolled into Frank's office which had become the apparent meeting spot for the day. "Morning, boys. I see you're off to a calm and peaceful start to the day!" he said with a smile. Turning to Frank, he asked, "You okay?"

"Allergies," Frank answered, and Fenton just nodded. "Want coffee, boys?" he asked. "I'll get some for you before we discuss the agenda."

Joe accepted and Frank declined as their father said that he'd be back in a few minutes.

"So is Callie talking to you now?" Joe asked, trying to finish the conversation before their father returned.

Finally, a genuine smile appeared on Frank's face. "Yes. Thanks, Joe. She told me everything and how much you helped her. She does love you, for some weird reason," he teased. "It's just that this nonprofit means so much to both of us, but especially to her. She's so passionate about making sure that Johnny is remembered in the right light; that his life wasn't marred by the circumstances of his death."

"I know. And she'll be great," Joe replied earnestly.

Frank cleared his throat several times and took some small sips of water before answering. "Van was fun, too, by the way."

Before he could continue, the phone in his office rang. Still fighting the cough, he motioned for Joe to pick up the phone. Joe hit the speaker button as his father returned to the room.

"Hardy and Sons Investigations," he answered.

"Frank?" an unfamiliar voice sounded. Frank was still clearing his throat but managed to croak out, "No. That's Joe. I'm here. What's up, Don?" Don Anllow was the head lawyer for the Jonathan Gellers Foundation for the Arts which had been established only three months ago and which, thanks to Callie's marketing and outreach programs, was flourishing.

"Frank, I have some really bad news," he said seriously. "You may need to sit down."

Joe looked at his brother, concerned, as his coughing was getting worse. Even Fenton gently put a hand on his back. Frank motioned for Joe to speak into the phone for him.

"This is Joe Hardy, sir. We're all here- Frank, me, and our father. What's this in reference to?" He didn't bother getting personal information. Frank obviously knew the guy.

The lawyer took a deep breath. "Okay. I hate to be the one to tell you this. Jack Johnson was the director for the play that John Gellers was prepping for when he was working on Criminal Hunters. The play was postponed after John's death, but has since been in production and set to open, funded by the agency, in the spring. Yesterday, Jack was murdered- stabbed multiple times- in the back of the theater. They have the kid who they think did it."

"Oh my god," Joe said unconsciously.

"That's not the worst part," the lawyer went on. "Next to his body, there painted in blood on the wall, it said, "John Gellers, this is for you." The press is all over this. You need to get to the theater right away."

"They got the guy?" Joe asked again.

"Yes," the lawyer went on. "But it's complicated. And if it is what I think it is, it's going to be a huge publicity nightmare to destroy John Gellers' reputation. Please hurry." He hung up.

Joe looked up and saw his father holding onto Frank, deeply concerned. Frank's face was red and he appeared to be struggling to breathe.

"Son! Frank! What's wrong?" Fenton asked, making Frank sit down immediately.

Frank's breathing was ragged and he was clutching his stomach in pain. "I can't breathe," he mouthed, terror filling his eyes, as he managed to moan and his eyes started rolling back.

"No! Joe- Call 9-1-1!" Fenton ordered.

Joe managed to make the call with shaking hands and then helped to lay Frank down. Fighting tears, Joe held back panic as he saw his brother turning blue, now unconscious.

He went to start mouth to mouth resuscitation with his father, but choked himself when he noticed no air was going down. "Dad?" he cried out.

"I don't know, Joe. Keep trying." Fenton's calm voice was belied by his profuse sweating and shaking hands.

Within minutes, EMTs arrived and, somehow with their equipment, managed to get a tube down Frank's throat, but just barely.

Joe's heart was pounding as he watched his brother being worked on, and, before he knew it, Frank was being lifted on a stretcher and rushed to the ambulance. One of the EMTs stayed behind for a moment.

"How long was he unresponsive?" the EMT, a young man of about 30, asked.

"I don't know. 4- 5 minutes maybe before you arrived," Fenton said grimly. "But I think he was getting oxygen for at least some of the time."

"Okay. That's helpful," the medic acknowledged. "Let's hope so, because every minute without oxygen is a bad minute. His throat was incredibly swollen. We see this in severe allergic reactions. Does he have any known allergies at all?"

Fenton rubbed his temples. "Ah, yes. He's allergic to aspirin and penicillin, but that's about it. I don't think- I mean, he hasn't taken those since he's a kid. That's how we found out."

"Okay, follow me in your car. We should arrive at Bayport General within 7 minutes." He turned and rushed away.

"Dad?" Joe asked in a shaking voice as he ran towards the door with his father behind him. "How did this happen? He was FINE 20 minutes ago."

"I don't know," Fenton replied, as he hopped into his car and opened the lock for Joe to enter on the passenger side. "But call Callie and your mom and Vanessa right away, and in that order. Tell them to get to the hospital immediately."

As they started to speed off following the ambulance, Joe started to dial Callie's cell phone as he realized the gravity of what he was about to tell her. Hearing her voice on the end of the phone, so light and sweet, made his stomach drop.

"Cal? Meet me at Bayport General. Frank's hurt…"

The silence was deafening.