Alrighty, here's the next chapter! I hope I didn't make all of you too mad by making you wait. Maybe you don't really care. But either way, here's chapter three. No Frank in this one, but I guess in this case maybe that's a good thing, right?

-:-

CHAPTER 3

Frank felt dizzy. He assumed he must've crashed, been knocked unconscious, and was dreaming again. As the figure raised his blond head Frank's incredulous dark brown eyes met vivid blue eyes, ones he thought he'd never see again.

ABOUT ONE HOUR EARLIER

Four hours after escaping his captors, Joe Hardy was still walking. It was slow going, due to how weak he still was. He wished he could at least jog, but he didn't have the energy. It had been, as far as he knew, a couple days since he had last eaten. That is, two days since he was last fed. Then again, he also hadn't been allowed to exercise nearly as much as he usually did during his three months of being kept prisoner, so he was out of shape slightly and that didn't help much either.

Joe stopped and knelt down to take another one of his increasingly frequent rest breaks. He murmured to himself, "Man, what I wouldn't give for a cheeseburger right now. Or one of Tony's pizzas." Closing his eyes for a second, he took a weary breath.

Of course, what he really wanted was just to get home. He had no idea what had happened to his brother and father after the explosion, he just hoped they had gotten away and were okay. What he was really wondering was why they hadn't found him. He hated to admit it, but he'd had complete faith in them to find him within a few days, a week or two tops, and he was baffled as to why they hadn't shown up. That also made him worry a bit, like maybe they actually had been hurt.

But that was all irrelevant at the moment, and Joe swept his now shaggy hair out of his eyes before getting back up. He figured he had at least an hour, maybe a little more, before he would reach Bayport, and he wanted to get there as soon as possible, now that it was all over. He'd gotten away from his abductors at a gas station some twenty-five miles back, and couldn't believe it when it turned out he was only about thirty miles from home. He had found someone willing to let him hitchhike the first fifteen miles or so, before they'd had to turn a different way. And the boy had been following the highway by foot ever since; firstly because it was too late for any traffic, and secondly, even if someone did pass him, he doubted they would give him a ride, thinking only some sort of serial killer would be out here at this time of night.

His feet had begun to drag a couple hours ago, and his whole body felt sort of numb. It hadn't quite sunk in yet that he had escaped, finally, after so long. He was finding it hard to keep going because of his exhaustion, but he wouldn't stop. And even though the stifling isolation around the youth unnerved him—he was still completely alone, though he was no longer in that cell—he used his numbness to his advantage and pushed it to the back of his mind.

Joe kicked tiredly at a pebble as he trudged along. He really missed his brother, and not just because it had been so incredibly boring being kept captive in the same place for three months. This was the longest they'd ever been separated, even when Frank had left for college last year. He expected that Frank was probably crazy with worry about him by now, and he had good reason to be. That big ape, Garth Crowe, was a seriously bad guy.

Joe massaged the back of his sore neck. He himself was amazed that he wasn't hurt, at least, not compared to how badly he could've been, or worse. Sure, the bad guys had roughed him off a bit and he had a few bruises and cuts, but those were nothing. He'd had worse; it kind of came with the job—an occupational hazard. Frank had always been a little overprotective of him, but it was mutual and one of the things he loved about his big brother. He always had his back and tried his best to make sure his younger brother was safe. Of course, he didn't always succeed, like this time. But Joe didn't blame Frank for this, not at all.

If anything, it was his own fault. He shook his head as he thought about it, disgusted with himself. How could he have let that thug of Crowe's get the drop on him? He snorted. He looked like he was about as smart as a doorknob, he thought sarcastically. Then again, when you're that big I suppose you don't need to be a rocket scientist, at least not for the job he was given.

Three months ago, while Joe had been leaning against the van outside, Frank had only been gone inside the store a minute or two when the brute ambushed the younger Hardy. For the record, Joe by no means lacked in either the muscle or self-defense department, but the guy was just extremely big in stereotypical goon fashion. It didn't help that the attack was entirely unexpected, and the young man was grabbed from behind and had a cloth soaked in chloroform pressed to his nose before he had the chance to yell out or fight back. The rest was all a blank until he'd woken up with a headache in that old house.

Deciding to save thinking about the time after that until he could tell his brother what had happened, Joe started thinking about other things to distract himself from his aching legs and to pass the time. He imagined what Vanessa was doing. Oh, well, I guess she'd be sleeping. He chuckled to himself, before sighing. His blond-haired, gray-eyed girlfriend was totally loyal to him, as he was to her, but...it had been three months. He hoped she'd waited up for him, but he wouldn't begrudge her if she hadn't.

Joe began to wonder what the rest of his friends were up to. Had they helped Frank and his dad search for him? No doubt Con Riley, Chief Collig, and much of the police force had been looking for him, at least for a while. But that still didn't explain why he was never found. Were his captors really that good at covering their tracks? All the more reason Joe had to get back and see Frank.

For the next hour he kept on walking, thinking about all the things he'd do once he got back and stopping to rest every ten or fifteen minutes. Besides being reunited with Frank and his family, he really wanted to just sit down and eat a ton at Mr. Pizza's. Next, since he had missed out on half the summer, he wanted to hit the beach, or even better, take their boat, the Sleuth, out for a spin on the lake. He let out a longing breath; he could already feel the spray of water on his face.

More than anything though, he wanted to be in his own house, in his own room on the second floor and sleeping in his own comfortable bed. Then in the morning Frank would decidedly drag him out of bed after at least a half hour of halfhearted attempts to rouse him, and they'd go downstairs and eat breakfast, joking around and teasing each other. Frank, of course, not quite being the vivacious one that Joe was, would be on the receiving end of more jokes than the younger brother.

Joe rubbed at his eyes wearily with the heels of his hands. That was what he missed most right now, the brotherly banter and sincerity he and Frank shared. That's why they were such a great team; their personalities meshed perfectly. Joe was the energetic, impulsive one while Frank was the logical one who thought things through.

If only his brother was here to keep him awake. Joe wouldn't even mind if Frank were here, reading out of a computer manual! But then again, if Frank were here, Joe probably wouldn't be in this situation. Frank always knew what to do, or at least, in the rare times he didn't, he pretended to in order to reassure Joe. He wondered if his older brother knew how much Joe needed him. The youngest Hardy felt another pang of loneliness, and he wished the miles would crawl by just a little quicker.

A short while later, when the eighteen-year-old turned off the highway onto a smaller road and strained to spot any signs that he was near Bayport, he was rewarded with the appearance of the shapes of dark buildings ahead. First things first, gotta get home. Joe continued forward, gaining a bit of strength from the knowledge that he was only about fifteen minutes away from home now.

He ambled down the main street illuminated by street lamps, noting how quiet and empty the whole place was. It was almost kind of spooky, and only amplified his longing to get back to familiar neighborhood. Catching sight of a bench on the sidewalk near the next corner, he made for it planning to take one last breather before tackling on the literal home stretch.

All of a sudden Joe heard the revving of an engine and then a squeal of tires, and before he could make sense of it he was staring down a set of headlights and grill of a vehicle.

With a spontaneous burst of adrenaline and reacting on pure reflexes, he hurled his body to the left just as he heard the screech of brakes, a split second before he would have been hit. He slapped his hands and knees down to catch himself, skinning them in the process.

A little dizzy from his exertion, he sat up and was massaging his head with a scraped up hand when he heard a car door slam. More than a little annoyed at his close call, he started to scold the driver gruffly. "What are you, drunk? Watch it, buddy, you could've killed m-" He cut off his reprimand when he pushed his tired blue eyes up and saw the pale man who was standing there, not fifteen feet away.

-:-

Yep, sorry, their actual reunion isn't till next chapter. But if you review I can just maybe, possibly, if I try real hard, have the next chapter up tomorrow. ;D