Please read this before reading the chapter!
This chapter is a bit more bloodier and though provoking than the others. If you are not up to killing and talking about suicide, then when you reach Joe's part (makred by ***), stop reading. I won't be offended in any way.

For those of you who are going to read the entire chapter anyways, enjoy.
(And I still do not own the Hardy Boys.)

Fenton didn't like the feeling of a barrier between him and Joe. However, any attempt to speak to the blonde became fruitless. The emotions that had once been encased in the blonde just melted away. His son had cast himself to a deserted island, and no one could reach him.

Laura had as much luck as the PI did. She best she could do was coax her son out of his room to attend to various matters. She continued to talk to Joe, but he would never return the questions and statements with the same spirit that used to dwell in him.

The only thing that Joe added to was encouraging his father to capture Snake. It was as if that idea alone would keep the boy attached to the world. So, Fenton continued to lock himself in his study, following every lead he could from behind closed doors.

There was only one other noticeable time when the boy answered a question with some kind of emotion in his voice.

"Do you want anything for your birthday, Joe?" Fenton asked. In a mere two days, Joe would officially be fifteen years old. A decade and a half, which would explain why Fenton felt that he had so many grey hairs.

The dinner table was silent as the teenager thought over his answer. Swallowing a mouthful of rice, Joe answered, "I dunno. Can we just… not do anything?"

"Are you sure Joe?" Laura asked. She had decided that pushing Joe would probably be the worst thing to do, and favored gradual healing at his own pace.

"Yeah. It's not really a big day, anyways." Joe began to move around the food on his plate with his fork. "I mean… Now that Frank's…"

"It's okay," Fenton said quickly. "It's your birthday, so if you want us to leave you alone, we will."

"Thanks, Dad." Joe got up, and began to bring his dishes into the kitchen. "I'm gonna work on some homework."

"Okay, sweetie." Laura's eyes never left the retreating figure. Only when the dull sound of a door closing did she turn her attention towards her husband. "This can't only be because of that girl."

Fenton nodded his head in agreement. "I think that his birthday is bringing up more memories of Frank than he can handle."

"What do you mean?"

"Every year, Frank manages to pull off something extravagant for Joe. I think the memories from the past years are catching up to Joe again." He took another bite from his dinner.

"Maybe we should take him to see a psychologist."

"We might only make the problem worse. He refused to go when we first found out. ATAC almost threatened to suspend him as an agent, but he still wouldn't go."

"Did he give a reason?"

"He said that no one could understand what they've been through together."

Laura frowned. "I still think it would be nice if there was someone he could talk to. Moving at his own pace is fine, but keeping all of those emotions bottled in might result into something… disastrous."

The subtle hint of Frank's apparent suicidal feelings forced Fenton to close his eyes. An image of Joe, sitting in the middle of his room, covered with blood… His wrists neatly cut, spilling out the crimson liquid and draining his life…

"Okay. We'll take him to a psychologist," he agreed, after forcing the image out of his mind. "Should I talk to him, or should you?"

Minutes after making their decision, the couple cleaned out the remains of the meal before heading up to the blonde's room. They hadn't realized that their choices in the matter were no longer important. In truth, the topic never came up again, despite the amount of emotions and logic that had been put into forming the idea for their son's recovery.

Joe's room was clean and empty. The only noticeable difference that caught their eyes was the cuts in the wall near the opened window, resembling a snake.

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Hawk watched as Joseph weighed the knife in his hand, examining the blade in the light given off by the lamp. The blade was sharp, reflecting the objects of the room in a contorted way.

"How many people have you killed with this?" he asked finally, glancing up at her.

"Actually, it's an 'innocent' blade. Hasn't touched any sort of blood yet," she said. "I already have a set that I enjoy, so it's really just collecting dust."

"Oh."

Silence filled the room for minutes, before the assassin finally said, "Why did you agree?"

"You mean to Snake's idea?" The blonde shrugged. "This is what Frank did at one point, right? Snake just pointed him at someone, and then it happened. Why shouldn't I do the same?"

"Once you taint yourself, you can't go back."

"Then let me be covered in blood."

Instead of asking anything else, Hawk silenced the questions in her head as she walked to the kitchen.

So devoted to his brother. Closing her eyes, she summoned a mental image of Jackie. Is this what you wanted in the end? A family?

A smirk formed on her lips. A family that has lines cracking right through them? Where you realize you cannot trust the ones that gave birth to you? One that's going to be torn apart right in front of their eyes?

She sighed as she heard the car pull up to the driveway. Time to start the show, Joseph.

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***He hated to admit it, but he felt very content with what he was doing. It was funny, when Joe thought about it. His father always told him that doing something like this meant that he was becoming one of the lawless… or something like that. The memory wasn't easy to summon, especially since there was something else he should be concentrating on…

He dodged the knife that was trying to rip him apart. The man's face was full of fury, fully intent on living. But he was a target, so his desires were to be ignored.

The blonde's fist connected to the man's face, using so much force that blood began to make its way down his opponent's face.

Oh God.

He ducked again, and landed another punch. This time, it was the man's gut. But unlike in other fights, he was fighting someone with really little experience.

He wasn't holding back, either.

"Mother fu-" The man couldn't finish his insult. A kick had sent him flying to the wall, his scream not overpowering the unmistakable sound of bones cracking.

Joe never knew he had that strength. Then again, his father always told him to hold back. And this time, it wasn't his father who was watching.

He ignored the blood that was spilling out of the man's wounds. The same blood that had begun to stain the blonde's clothes and settled on his fist. The idea of such an act still didn't fully register in his mind. It was probably better this way, anyways.

Before the man could recover, Joe had the man pinned to the wall, both hands on his throat. He squeezed harder and harder, just hoping it would be over soon…

But the man was stubborn. With his last bit of strength, he aimed the knife at Joe. But Joe had the advantage of youth, speed, and strength; therefore he caught the wrist with ease. With one hand still choking the target, the teenager forced the knife out of the man's hand. It fell to the floor without a second glance.

With his free hand, Joe pulled the knife Hawk had given him from his pocket. The handle fitted so well into his grasp, and the blade had yet to be touched with blood… Blood that it would be the cause for… Spilt all over the ground and mark their steps…

No!

But it was already too late. He plunged the blade into the man's chest, twisting it for emphasis. The man fell to the ground, splashing in the pool of blood from his wounds.

The man's cries filled the empty parking lot, which only hurt the blonde more. He was never this violent to anyone! Things like this had filled his nightmares, but never would he have believed that he would agree to do such an act…

But then again, in that little world of his, Frank would have never taken the path that he did.

Absentmindedly, he took the gun that Snake held out to him, and shot the man. Instantly, the cries were silenced, but the blood that was pooling on the ground was spreading faster.

It finally dawned on the blonde what had happened. He killed a man.

And for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to hate his own guts.

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Snake couldn't wipe the smirk on his face if he tried. The lack of an attempt just made the smirk stay longer as he drove the car back to what he could consider "home" for the time being.

Joseph sat in the passenger seat, staring at the knife. Even though he had readily agreed to change out of his blood-soaked clothes and wash his hands, he had refused to clean the blade.

The assassin decided to break the silence, and remind the teenager about the target. "ATAC supervisor who molested the agents under him. He-"

"I know.' Joseph turned his attention to the scenery outside. "Just…" The sentence hung in the air, neither one of them finishing it.

After a few minutes, the blonde asked, "When does someone accept their fate to leave the world that they grew up in?"

Snake thought for a second, before replying, "When they feel like they've done all they can, and need to move on. It's easier to decide that when nothing's holding you down."

"Oh." Silence reigned again for another moment, before another question was asked. "If they knew their fates beforehand, would they end their lives?"

"Maybe. But some are still willing to go on. Maybe that's why it's the 'unknown.' It separates us to the strong and weak."

"How so?"

"The weak want to know their ending. The strong risks all of it to move on."

"Does that mean that Frank was weak? Am I weak?"

"You two aren't weak. Just tired of this world."

"Are you tired of this?"

The assassin pondered the question. "Sometimes, I guess I am."

"Can you do me a favor, then?"

"Depends."

"Make my father tired of this world."

If possible, the smirk on Snake's face only grew. "I wasn't planning on doing any less."

Not much I can say about this... Just be ready for more...