A/N: GEEZ! I thought my writer's block was cured! Apparently not because this was one of the most frustrating chapters to write ever and I am only being slightly dramatic here. Anyway, thanks to everyone for your patience and for reading and reviewing. I really appreciate everyone for taking the time out of their day to leave a comment on my story. :) With that being said, on to the next chapter! Enjoy!

Four Times Too Many

Chapter Seven

The next morning Frank lay in bed looking at the ceiling, thinking about the events of the last couple of days. His life was far from ordinary and it was rare that he didn't have something to worry about, something to focus his energy on. However this time, this time it felt like he had to focus his energy on a million different things at once. Not that that was completely unusual, but he felt like he had never before had to focus so much on everyone around him and their well being.

His mind would start with thoughts and worries about his brother, as they often did. He knew that Joe was hiding how much this trial was truly affecting him and it worried him immensely. It used to be that he could read Joe like a book, but it seemed that lately Joe had developed some new acting skills. It was frustrating to know something was wrong and have no idea what to do or say to help.

Invariably, his thoughts would turn from Joe to Vanessa and how she was holding up. Joe and Vanessa shared an uncommon bond, their thoughts and feelings so closely intertwined that he knew Vanessa had to be suffering as well.

Of course, his worries didn't stop with his brother and his fiancée but they seemed to always circle back to Nancy. Nancy, who was now the center of his world and who he had been in love with nearly all of his life, in fact he could barely remember a time when he hadn't loved Nancy.

Now he was feeling stuck, desperate to help. The problem was that he didn't know what to do to help her, knowing how upset she was over her inability to help Maggie Hendrickson.

And always, always in the back of his mind running on a constant loop the one thought that had haunted his every step for a month. You're not the man everyone thinks you are. You're a wannabe cold blooded killer.

No matter what he did, he couldn't escape his inner turmoil. He closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to go back to that dark warehouse as he so often did. He forced himself to replay the moment when his fight with Greg Atkinson had turned from a struggle for the upper hand to the sudden and powerful urge to kill. To murder the man who had tortured his brother.

"Frank, so good of you to join us," Greg sauntered out from behind the car and smiled, holding what looked to be a long metal rod in his hands.

Frank didn't hesitate but let out a guttural yell and jumped to his feet. He charged straight at Greg and barely registered the satisfaction of seeing Greg's eyes open wide with shock. Frank had never been the best tackler on the football team; that had been Joe's area. Frank had always been the runner, able to dodge and feint quickly. Now he rammed into Greg with so much force both men lost their breath.

He spared a glance at his brother to make sure he was alright and was relieved to see Joe trying to sit up on his own. He had a fleeting second to wish that he had been able to get the horribly painful ropes off Joe before he felt a sharp blow to his midsection. Greg had taken advantage of Frank's momentary distraction and slammed the metal rod deep into Frank's gut.

Turning all of his attention back on Greg, Frank slammed the man's head into the ground. Once, twice, three times. Frank had never been so hell bent on killing someone, had never thought that he could be capable of such brutality. Instead of feeling ashamed however, he could only feel a sort of sick satisfaction at the blood that covered Greg's face.

"Let me tell you something," Frank said breathlessly, his eyes wild, "there's a game I've recently learned. It's called the Three Minute Deal." Frank yanked Greg's hair back by his hair, "it's when someone bets that the other person can't do something in three minutes or less."

Greg spluttered as if he was trying to say something but Frank pressed his arm against his throat, "I wasn't finished," Frank hissed slowly, "I bet that I can kill you in less than three minutes and not even feel guilty about it."

Greg's eyes went blank as fear overcame him. He knew murder in a man's eyes when he saw it and he was looking at it right now. He struggled for breath but Frank only pressed his arm harder down on Greg's throat.

Frank let out another wild yell and yanked Greg to his feet, pushing his back against the limo, "you can do a lot in three minutes; inflict a lot of pain and payback."

Frank sighed heavily as the image faded and he opened his eyes to once again stare at the ceiling. Where were the answers? What was he supposed to do for the people he cared most about in the world? Why couldn't he be good enough for them?

Most importantly, how could he tell all of them that he wasn't the person they thought him to be? Would he lose the relationships he cherished the most?

Nancy shifted next to him and Frank slowly turned to face her. Her face was peaceful in sleep, her lips parted slightly. He looked at her and his love was almost impossible for him to hold. Reaching over he brushed a strand of hair off of her forehead and watched as her lips curved a little sleepily.

"Am I drooling or something?" Nancy murmured with her eyes still closed.

The question surprised a laugh out of Frank, "What? Why do you ask that?"

"I can feel you staring at me, one of those intense brooding stares you're so good at," Nancy's smile grew when she heard Frank's intake of breath. She slowly opened her eyes, "yep, I was right."

"Right about what?" Frank asked.

"I thought you might have that sexy crease between your eyebrows that you get when you're thinking hard about something," Nancy replied and leaned forward to kiss that crease.

"You know me pretty well," Frank smiled and the realization helped to sooth some of the rougher edges. "It's nice to have someone understand me so completely…aside from my brother."

Nancy laughed, "Yes, aside from your brother. I don't think I'll ever understand you as well as he does; even when we're old and gray and have been together sixty years."

"Sixty years," Frank repeated, "I like the sound of that." He leaned down and captured Nancy's lips with his own.

Even though the brother's were so close, Frank couldn't have known how exactly his thoughts matched Joe's that morning.

Across town Joe laid in bed much the same way as Frank had, holding Vanessa in his arms and listening to her steady breathing. He found that in the early hours of the morning, when sleep eluded him his thoughts whirled around in a confusing cascade of emotion with everything always circling back to one thing: Vanessa.

How could he get her out of testifying at the trial? How could he keep her from going through this? Last night after they had gotten home from Frank and Nancy's, Joe had gone into the bathroom and had one of the worst convulsions he had had in weeks.

As he had sat on the bathroom floor, praying for the shakes to stop he couldn't help but wonder what would happen at the trial. If this was the result of simply talking about it again, he couldn't imagine what would happen when he had to live through it, over and over and over again for days on end.

Frank. He needed to talk to Frank. No matter what, Frank would know what to do.

Maggie balanced the tray in her hand precariously loaded down with plates of food as she wound her way through the café. She was proud of herself and how fast she had taken to being a waitress. When John wasn't around she was amazingly well balanced and agile, she had always thought she was clumsy and awkward.

"Alright, here we go," Maggie smiled down at the group of teenagers sitting at the table as she passed out their orders, "can I get you anything else?" she asked.

"Some ketchup?" a girl with shockingly pink hair asked.

"Sure thing," Maggie replied and moved back to the counter to grab a bottle of ketchup. On her way back to the table the front door of the café opened and three men Maggie didn't recognize walked in. "I'll be right with you," Maggie smiled and set the ketchup down on the table.

"Will there be three of you today?" Maggie asked the oldest man, his brown hair graying at the temples.

"Yes," the man smiled and Maggie led them to a booth.

"Is this alright?" she asked.

"Absolutely," the man replied and slid into the booth.

"My name is Maggie and I'll be your server this afternoon," she greeted the men and laid menus down on the table.

"It's nice to meet you Maggie," the man replied, "I'm Don Hooper and this is my son Biff and my brother Jeff."

"Nice to meet you as well," Maggie replied. It had taken awhile for her to get used to this small town way of doing things. People wanted to know who you were, your name, your favorite hobby. They didn't mind idle chit chat and Maggie found that she was able to keep up with it fairly well as long as she didn't let the conversation turn too personal, too close to home.

Suddenly the last name Hooper rang a bell in Maggie's mind and for the first time since starting at the Three Sisters Café she felt an icy sharp jab of fear in her gut. "Hooper," she murmured and all three men wondered at the sudden disappearance of her sunny attitude.

"Yes," Don replied slowly and smiled in encouragement, "have we met you before?"

"No," Maggie shook her head and her eyes fell on the warm brown eyes of the son, Biff. He smiled at her warmly and Maggie shook her head again before looking back at Don, "No, but I believe my husband works for you."

"Your husband?" Don asked, "What's his name?"

"John," Maggie replied and could feel the panic starting to well up inside of her. So far John had been unable to touch this place, her sanctuary but somehow simply having his bosses in here was making the panic rise in her throat. "His name is John, John Hendrickson."

Maggie missed Biff's eyes narrowing at the name; she was too focused on staring at the table, "I'll be right back for your order." She spun quickly around and rushed back to the kitchen leaving three stunned men behind her.

As soon as she was through the doors Maggie pressed herself back against the wall and fought to control her breathing, "Maggie?" Dawn called from her office, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Maggie replied a little too quickly, "I'm fine, it's really no big deal."

"Are you sure? Do you need a break? You're awfully pale," Dawn stood up and walked out of her office to stand in front of Maggie.

"No, no I'm fine," Maggie shook her head and smiled weakly. "I was just hit by a wave of dizziness there for a second; I didn't sleep so great last night."

"Okay, if you're sure," Dawn said and rubbed a hand up and down Maggie's arm in comfort. "Just let me know if you need a break, it wouldn't look good for me as a boss to have one of my waitresses fainting on me," she smiled.

Maggie laughed, "No, it wouldn't." She took another deep steadying breath, 'pull yourself together Maggie, its John's boss…not John. Stop being ridiculous!' With those final thoughts Maggie pushed back out into the main part of the diner. She checked on her other tables first and then walked back over to the Hooper's table.

"Are you guys ready to order?" She asked and her smile almost reached her eyes.

"Sure thing," Don replied and all three men placed their orders. Before she could walk away Don stopped her, "so, how do you like Bayport?"

Maggie paused and forced herself to look relaxed with the small talk she had grown accustomed to, even to enjoy, "I love Bayport, its beautiful here."

"We like to think so," Don replied, "I've lived here my whole life."

"You're very lucky," Maggie smiled and couldn't help but feel better looking into Don's warm brown eyes. Eyes that reminded her of his sons and so her gaze trailed back to Biff's. All the relaxation she had felt from looking at Don instantly vanished and an entirely new sensation washed over her.

Biff Hooper was fixing her with a steady stare and his gaze was unreadable. Maggie had gotten good at reading expressions, when someone was close to their breaking point, when a person was mad…it was essential to her survival. He didn't look angry or resentful; he merely looked thoughtful and a bit…concerned. Because that last thought had her feeling scared again Maggie quickly looked back at the older Hooper, "well, I'd better get these orders placed for you. It'll be right up."

"Thank you Maggie," Don smiled and watched her leave. He wasn't a man of much worldly experience having stayed in Bayport most of his life, but he knew that Maggie Hendrickson was one frightened woman.

Nancy pulled up to the back of the Three Sister's Café and shut the engine off, as she had done for the last week. She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes, she was exhausted. It wasn't a new sensation; she'd been exhausted plenty of times in her life but nothing was worse than emotional exhaustion.

She felt like she was failing in every aspect of her life. She had no idea what to do for Maggie on a professional and now a personal level and if she had no idea what to do for Maggie, she was completely lost on what to do for Frank. It felt like every time she turned around she was letting something slip through her fingers. Bess was still in town doing God knows what with Chet Morton and she still had no idea just how serious they were, she hadn't talked to her father properly in weeks and now the trial was a looming presence in all of their lives.

What should she focus her energy on first?

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the passenger door pulled open and Maggie climbed into the car, "hi," she murmured and turned to look at Nancy and gasped. She had seen that same haunted, desperate look before, in her own face in the mirror, "what's wrong?" she whispered.

"Nothing," Nancy sighed and started the car, "everything."

"Okay," Maggie clutched her purse tighter; she wasn't good at dealing with people and their emotional upheavals.

"I just feel like I'm being pulled in all different directions," Nancy said slowly.

"I'm sorry," Maggie said and her fingers grew white from their tight clutch on her purse, "you don't have to pick me up from work every night. I live close enough that I could walk…" her voice trailed off.

"No," Nancy shook her head, "that's not it at all. I enjoy driving you home, I think it's made us tentative friends."

Maggie smiled, "tentative friends. It sounds like a psychology book or a mixed up children's story."

Nancy laughed, "I really like you Maggie."

"I like you too, Nancy," Maggie replied truthfully, "it's hard for me, to open up to people."

"I know," Nancy murmured, "and you don't have to if you don't want to, I just want you to know that I'm here…that I can help if you want it. You don't have to be a silent victim."

Maggie stayed silent and watched as the darkened streets of Bayport slowly passed. In truth, she enjoyed these drives home the most out of her day. At first she had resisted and resisted angrily at Nancy's insistence that she drive her home after work. When she had finally given in she realized how much she enjoyed Nancy's company and the chance to talk to another woman, something she was never allowed to do.

Nancy pulled off to the side of the road, a few houses down from Maggie's as she did every night. She frowned when she saw the living room light still on in the house, "it's pretty late. Why is he still up?"

Maggie gulped, she knew why. John never stayed up late without a good reason but instead she chose to lie, "I'm not sure, he probably just left the light on. He forgets sometimes," and that was a bald faced lie. John never forgot to turn a light off when he left the room. She had once forgotten to turn off a side lamp in the living room and he had beaten her so severely over her lack of respect for the man who paid the electricity bill she had been hospitalized. They had moved two weeks later as soon as she was able to walk without limping.

"I should go," Maggie said and reached for the door handle.

"Maggie wait," Nancy said stopping her. She didn't know why but she suddenly knew that she didn't want Maggie to go anywhere near that house. "Don't go, come with me. Stay at my house."

Maggie shook her head, "its fine Nancy, I'll be fine." She reached for the door handle again and quickly jumped out of the car before Nancy could say anything else. Without looking behind her she walked quickly up the street to her house.

John was at the front door before Maggie had even reached the walkway, "where have you been?" he thundered.

Maggie didn't bother to point out that she was home earlier than normal, she just moved as quickly as possible up the walkway, her only thought getting John inside the house before Nancy could see anything.

"I asked you a question!" John yelled and snagged Maggie's arm as she tried to pass him, "where have you been!" He pushed her up against the porch railing and she could smell the alcohol heavy on his breath.

"I've been…at work," Maggie stuttered.

"Like hell! You've been with that Biff Hooper boy!" he yelled.

Maggie was stunned into silence, of all the things she had expected to hear that was one of the last, "what?"

"Don't what me!" he slammed her hard up against the side of the house and Maggie barely registered the pain when her head slapped against the wood, "I had to endure my boss telling me in front of everyone about what a nice girl you are, so sweet and good natured, how you served him and his boy for lunch. I bet that's not all you served him," he growled and started to pull her into the house.

"No, that's all I did! I just served them lunch," Maggie cried desperately as John wrenched her arm painfully behind her back.

"Whore!" he hissed angrily in her ear, "I will not have a whore for a wife!" he threw her down onto the hardwood floor in front of him and watched as she started to crawl away. He reached down and stepped hard on her back, yanking her hair up and her head with it. "How much did he pay you? Or did you lack the sense to even get paid for your…services," he sneered.

"No," Maggie sobbed, "no I didn't…"

"Liar!" John yelled and pushed her away from him so her head cracked on the floor. There was a loud pounding on the front door and John quickly turned to face the door, "damnit," he growled, "get in the kitchen." Not waiting to see if she obeyed him John stalked across the room and wrenched open the door.

"Sir, you're going to have to come with me," Nancy said through clenched teeth, "now."

"Like hell! I haven't done anything wrong!" John shouted.

Nancy looked pointedly behind him at Maggie who was still cowering on the floor, blood covering her face, "I say you have," she said coldly.

"I don't listen to no off duty cop," John growled and started to close the door in Nancy's face.

Reacting quickly Nancy slammed her hand on the door, stopping his movement. Surprise registered on John's face, he had never come across such a strong woman before and he was still pushing against the door with all his might, "that's right John," Nancy said sarcastically, "I work out."

John gave a gigantic shove that had Nancy stumbling back a step but before he could get the door all the way closed Nancy threw her shoulder against it and pushed herself into the living room just as sirens started to sound in the distance.

"You are under arrest," Nancy said and reached for the cuffs she had tucked into the back waistband of her jeans, right next to the gun she usually kept in her glove box.

John's chest heaved as he looked from his wife sprawled on the floor and back to Nancy, a steely look in her eye all the while the sirens growing louder and louder. With a terrifying roar of rage John launched himself at Nancy and the sudden move had her off balance so she took the full force of his body and went flying back into the TV. It shattered around her and Nancy could feel the shards of glass cut into her arms and back. John gripped her arms and prepared to slam Nancy back into the broken TV, she grit her teeth in preparation for the pain.

Suddenly there was a loud hollow thunking noise and Nancy looked quickly around for the source of the noise. It wasn't until John's eyes rolled into the back of his head that she realized the sound had come from his head. When he fell to the ground in a giant heap among the broken fragments of the TV Nancy felt herself shudder in relief.

Maggie stood behind her fallen husband, holding a large cast iron skillet in her hands raised high above her head. She stood staring at her husband visibly shaking and making no move to put the pan down.

"Maggie," Nancy whispered and Maggie turned frightened eyes on Nancy, "Maggie, lower the pan."

It took several moments but finally Maggie let the skillet drop to her side and then fall with a loud clatter to the floor, "Nancy, I think I'm done being a silent victim," she whispered.

"Okay," Nancy murmured and stepped slowly toward the scared woman. She laid a hand on her shoulder, "are you alright?"

"Yes, I think so," Maggie's voice shook and she started to cry silently, "Nancy I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Shh," Nancy said and pulled the weeping woman into her arms, "its okay now. It's okay."