Author's Note: I don't know how anything managed to get done, but I'm just going to be glad there was more and it's done and... yeah. It's more and it's updated, and that's where it is.

Some Wounds

"Joseph Hardy, if you do not sit yourself down in that chair and stay there, I swear I will tan your hide," Laura said as they entered the house. "You are exhausted, and I am this close to dragging you right back to the hospital. Just give me a reason."

"Mom, I'm fine. I'm a little tired, but we did do a lot of running around today trying to track down the notary and the lawyers and the truth about this will," Joe said, grumbling as he took up a seat on the couch. He leaned his head back against the cushion and sighed. "The whole thing is a mess. Something's wrong, but I can't figure out where."

"What's wrong is that the whole thing is a lie," Frank said, taking the other chair. "The woman who came to the door yesterday has been dead for two years. The will was made two years ago. And while according to the lawyers and the notary, it's all legal, Zollner didn't even know who I was two years ago. I hadn't gotten the case at my school. It was before those thefts started."

Nancy sat down next to Joe. "You know, I know none of us really wants to think it, but it is possible that Zollner started more than—"

"No, it isn't," Frank insisted. "He didn't know who I was. He couldn't."

Laura snorted, and they all looked at her. She grimaced. "I'm sorry, but you're wrong. Your father has spent years developing a reputation as a detective, and as soon as you two started solving cases, you were building your own. It's something of a legend by now, at least locally. So when you say he couldn't know you... that's not true. Many people you've never met have heard of you. You're modest enough that you don't think of it like that, but it's true. You are known for what you do. Both of you—excuse me, Nancy—all three of you are."

Nancy smiled back at her, though it was a sad one. "Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking. In fact, I'd take it a bit further—if Zollner planned to start stealing from the schools, he might have looked into their personnel and enrollment records for potential threats. That case, Frank... It could have been a test all along. He might have wanted you to notice them and find the pattern and trace it back to him, thus proving your worth as his heir."

Frank put a hand to his head. He got to his feet and started toward the stairs. "That's it. I'm done. I'm just... done."

Joe started to rise. "Frank—"

Nancy pulled him back down. "Let him have a few minutes. And don't think that no one noticed just how bad you've been today. Your mom is right. You need rest. I was thinking about it—you may have torn your stitches trying to get into Frank's room last night. You could have developed an infection."

"Then you are coming with me," Laura told him. "We're going to get a good look at that wound, clean it out, and see if you have a fever. You might be headed right back to the hospital."

"Mom, I'm fine. None of this is necessary."

"It is completely necessary," Laura insisted, taking hold of his arm and pulling him toward the bathroom.

Nancy found herself alone in the room. She bit her lip, trying to decide if she thought Frank should be alone for longer or if she should hurry after him. On the one hand, he needed to be able to breathe and think. On the other, he was in a dangerous place with the world crumbling around him, and he could get hurt—even hurt himself—if he was left alone for too long.

She sighed, rising. She didn't know that she was making the right decision, but she'd rather be a little too pushy than hold back and risk losing him. That was not an acceptable option. She'd failed Ned, but she couldn't do that again. Maybe Ned wouldn't let her help him, but Frank was, or at least he had been, and she owed it to him to keep trying.

She went up the stairs, careful to take them lightly so he didn't hear a herd stampeding toward him. A quiet approach would be better. She could reach him, she hoped, and he wouldn't turn her away.
She stopped at the door, knocking gently. "Frank?"

He didn't answer. She tried again, but when she still got no response, she decided there was only one thing to do. She pushed the door open and went inside.

"Mom, this isn't necessary," Joe repeated, grimacing as she continued to push him into the bathroom. He was just a little tired, and that was not that out of line. He didn't need to be examined. He didn't need the hospital or a doctor. Just a bit of a rest and to make sure that Frank wasn't doing anything stupid while he was upstairs. It wasn't like Joe wanted to believe that Frank had been targeted long before they knew he was, but both Nancy and his mom had a point—Zollner could have known about Frank before the case.

It was, Joe thought, a little bruising to his ego that he hadn't been the one chosen, but seeing what that had done to Frank, he wasn't really that jealous. No one would want that. Zollner's obsession was sick, and Frank was still paying for it.

"I'll decide what's necessary," Laura said. She yanked up his shirt and went for the bandage on his side. He flinched as she pulled it off.

"See? You're overreacting."

Laura gave him a dirty look before turning back to the cabinet. She took out a small mirror and came back to him, holding it next to his side. "Does that look like nothing to you?"

He winced when he got a better look at the wound. He'd only seen a little bit of redness when she moved his shirt, but the whole thing was inflamed, puffy and swollen to where the stitches were ready to burst. "Um..."

"Exactly, Joe. This is not good." She shook her head. "I'm going to clean it out and use a disinfectant on it, as well as some antibiotic cream, but if I don't see any improvement, I will take you back to the doctor."

"Mom—"

"I don't want to hear it. You were stabbed, in a car accident, and then shot not that long ago. Now you've been stabbed again. I am not taking any chances with you. We almost lost you. We almost lost Frank. I am not going to take any chances with this."

Joe sighed, but there wasn't any good way to stop her without hurting her. Fighting would just make things worse, and he didn't want to be in that position again. He'd had to do that with Gertrude, had to disarm her, hurt her. His own aunt.

Laura stayed quiet as she worked, and that was how Joe knew she was really mad. If she was just a little upset, she'd be clucking at him, fussing and lecturing as she took care of him. Hers was a lot easier to take than Gertrude's would have been, but she wasn't giving it.

"Mom, are you—"

"Just let me work."

"It can't be that bad. I mean, like you said, I got stabbed before. Got shot... Car accident. All of that. So this is tame, really."

Laura glared at him. "Tame?"

"Compared to Frank's scars? Yes. You've seen them, haven't you? They're ten times worse than this. He was tortured. This is nothing. A scratch."

"No, it is not, and don't try and deflect by using your brother's wounds as a way of saying yours are nothing. Both of you—all three of you—like to pretend that these aren't anything to worry about, but they are. Yours and your brother's."

Joe rolled his eyes. He jerked when his mother touched his side. "Ouch! A little warning, maybe? That hurt."

"Big surprise," Laura muttered, and he winced. He didn't want him mom pissed off at him, and he knew he had to stop it, but she wasn't going to calm down until she was done treating him. Or until she was distracted enough.

"You and Dad have Frank's complete medical file, right?"

"Yes. We're still listed as next of kin and have power of attorney for medical decisions. Frank opted against picking you for that since the two of you end up sharing rooms too often. Why are you asking about that?"

"I was just curious."

"I know that tone. What is it you really want to know?"

"Frank?"

He had known that someone would be coming, though he had hoped that it would take longer than this. He needed to be able to think, and he couldn't. He could barely breathe with all of this weighing down on him. Zollner.

That man's hold on him was insane. It shouldn't have that kind of reach. It shouldn't be possible.

Frank didn't want to believe it. It was one thing to come to the man's notice because of a case he'd found and solved when no one else did. That Frank had come to accept. He could live with it, that his choices had led him to Zollner and everything that came out of that.

To have been picked, selected and tested without even knowing it...

It made him sick.

Worse, it made Zollner's words true.

"You are mine, Franklin. You've always been mine."

How far back could that truly go? Did that mean that Zollner had found him back in his childhood? Had one of those simple, stupid cases that they'd solved when they were young and proving themselves been enough to fixate that psychotic bastard on him?

And if it went to his childhood—Frank ran to the nearest trashcan, throwing up everything in his stomach. He couldn't help it. The idea of that man watching him since he was a boy was horrifying. The worst sort of things came to his mind, and he couldn't stand it.

He heard his door open, and he looked over to see Nancy there. She gave him a small smile.

"Sorry. I was concerned, and I... I didn't want to make the same mistake twice," she said, going over to his side. "I know, I shouldn't even say that, but I... Even if you don't want me here, and I don't actually know what I can do to help, I couldn't leave you alone."

Frank shook his head. "I... There isn't anything anyone can do. That's the true, horrible genius of what Zollner has done. Everything is open to doubt, and so we question it, but we can't prove or disprove any of it and all it does is fester more doubt. Anything is possible with him, even the things we really don't want to be possible."

"Yeah."

"Nancy, if it goes back further than two years, if he was after me when Joe and I were still kids..." Frank lowered his head, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding on as he tried not to breakdown completely. He didn't know how to fight this. He couldn't be sure that Zollner hadn't done that, and there was so much in place already—maybe this was Zollner's plan all along, but at the same time, why would it be? And why was there so much that didn't make sense? Was it all just because Zollner's mind games would keep them guessing, breaking them without any outside help?

"I don't know what to do," Frank whispered. "I can't—Zollner is in my head. I can't get him out. I can't stop thinking about it. I can't—every little thing is one of his tricks, and I'm so messed up over them and what he did before—I can't think. I can't function. Joe is hurt, and my aunt is brainwashed, and all I can think about is Zollner. I can't stop it. I don't know what to do. I can't..."

"I wish I had some kind of easy solution for you, but I don't. I don't have the answers. I want to give them to you so badly, but I can't," Nancy told him, running her fingers through his hair to soothe him. "I can't fix this. This isn't like one of our cases where we find a clue and suddenly everything falls into place. Zollner made sure we didn't have the pieces. You're right. It's part of his game, leaving us wondering and worrying and making things worse in our own minds."

Frank sighed. "There has to be something. I have to find it, whatever it is, and then... Then maybe this can finally end."

"And if there's nothing for you to find? What then?"

"I don't know. Damn it, I just... don't know."