Kris had been allowed up the next day; she'd refused to take any more meds until they let her up. It was just her shoulder and arm. The shoulder and muscle were tightly bandaged and in a cast. The burns, she could deal with. She could heal just as well on her feet as she would lying in a bed. Finally, the nurse and doctor had thrown up their hands and given in. One of the floor assistants helped her wash and clean up, then get into her jeans and an oversized tie-dyed dashiki — Joshua had gleefully taken advantage of her cast, meds, and not being able to wear her own shirts to buy her clothing to his taste, though Kris had a suspicion that Alma had stopped him from the more outlandish color schemes.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed and getting her breath back when Joshua poked his head through the door, then came in, grinning. "I heard you yelling at the docs all the way down the hall. Ready to blow this joint and go back to Nainaine's?"

"If it means getting something other than the crap they call food here, yeah." Kris eyed him. Joshua wasn't in his usual colors — he was distinctly dressed-down: camos, a plain black t-shirt, no beads in his short dreads. Something was up.

"Alma's looking forward to fattening us both up. C'mon, partner."

She didn't move. "Joe."

Head bowed, Joshua stopped. "All the usual M.O., except he's still alive. They don't know if he's going to walk again." Joshua sighed. "C'mon. We'll check on him. He was asking about you last night."

But no sooner had they cleared the door than Kris was ambushed. "Mierda, cielito, estoy alegre verle." Rafe pulled her into a tight, shaking hug, though mindful of the cast. Kris resisted briefly, then let him pull her against his chest and let herself relax a little, Rafe's chin resting on top of her head and his arms around her.

"They let you go this soon?" Joshua said.

"No," Rafe's voice thrummed through his chest, "but I told 'em where to shove it. They don't need me wastin' bed space. And Vão…" Rafe stopped, breathed out. "They needed help getting shields up on his room. They're not letting anyone back there." Another sigh. "Except his grandma. She and his dad came in this morning."

"I've met her," Kris said. "Her side's where his Gift comes from."

Rafe rocked back and forth, his hug tightening. "Nate…he's critical. His family's flying in this afternoon. As for that bitch he calls his wife —" Rafe cut himself off. His breathing harshened, his voice thick. "I couldn't do jack. They had me — and all I could do — and now —"

"Rafe," Joshua said, "they shot you with heroin. It's a Gift-killer." Rafe was shaking his head; Joshua shoved his shoulder. "Hey. Don't. You even managing shields on that—"

"But that kid —"

"He's not that much younger than you, Rafe. And they didn't shoot him up."

"They were finishin' Nate," Rafe whispered, rocking. "They were usin' him to break my shields. They were lettin' me know it. Then they dragged him in, and it started all over again. I couldn't — I didn't want…

"Then that's between you and Joe, chè. Work it out with him." Joshua almost smiled. "Try not to blow up the Center doing it."

"He's a musician," Kris said, and Rafe rolled his eyes. "When he and Frank aren't playing detective, anyway. Teach him guitar or something."

"After yesterday," Joshua murmured, "you can't call it playing." Then he gave Kris the bare start of another grin. "Do what she says, Rafe, or I'll sic her on you, just like I did to Vão yesterday."

Kris lifted her head. Rafe stopped rocking. "What?"

"Right in the middle of Bourbon Street," Joshua said. "Big bad cocky rock star Vão decided to stand right in the middle of business like a stupid oh-shoot-me-now target, and this little white chick ripped him a new one. Real loud, right in the middle of the afternoon parade. You should've seen the crowd they got. I didn't even think she knew half those words." Kris's face was red-hot, and Joshua was now grinning hugely. "It was epic."

Rafe burst into laughter, laughter that choked off into a sob as he hugged Kris even tighter.

"Now I'm getting this epic chick home so she can rest," Joshua said. "Go get horizontal for a while, Rafe. You need it, even if you don't want to admit it."

Rafe nodded, released her, but Kris pulled him back into a brief hug of her own, as he breathed something in rapid Spanish into her hair. Then Joshua steered Kris away, back through the Center.

"Josh…" Kris said, then, when he cocked his head at her, "…thanks."

Another bare grin. "Anytime, chè. Anytime."

They hit the doors through the front ward — and yelling echoed through the area, increasing exponentially as Kris and Joshua came through the nurses' area, loud enough to drown out the gods-awful religious radio station the nurses were playing. It was obvious who: Fenton Hardy stood over Frank, who was sitting on a bench, head in his hands.

"You went after them? By yourselves?! And you didn't even think of calling the cops? What kind of idiots are you? What have I been teaching you all these years?"

"Dad, we tried!"

"You don't go after armed and dangerous without backup. You know that! Then you let Joe take them on alone — you abandoned him, he got caught and you're supposed to be the oldest, you're supposed to be more responsible —" Fenton caught sight of Joshua and Kris, cut himself off.

"Their dad, I take it," Joshua said, under his breath.

"Mr. Hardy," Kris said. Frank wiped at his face, not looking at any of them, his bearing thoroughly cowed, beaten.

"Joshua Thomas, sir." Joshua stood at loose attention; he looked every inch former military. "Special Ops and Recon. On assignment down here, after those killers."

Let Fenton assume what he would from that. Kris bit her lip; the stricken grief and shame on Frank's face hurt. But she held herself quiet, for the moment.

Fenton had turned on her. "How much of this did you know about?"

"She," Joshua said, "was in the ER, here. Broken shoulder and second degree burns. She got attacked by the killers on the street, right before it all went down."

Fenton shut his mouth. "Sorry," he said, to Kris. He gave Frank another glare.

"Mr. Hardy, you're making a huge mistake," Joshua said. "You'll regret it all your life, if you do. If you continue."

Fenton turned back, all the rage turning —

"Your sons did go to the cops." Joshua's voice was calm, edged. "Exactly what I told them to do. They ran straight into something no one expected — that New Orleans cops don't give a crap about anything unless someone tosses a body through their window. And even then, they only gripe about the mess."

Arms crossed, Fenton's posture was that of stiff patience, his back turned on his son.

"They tried to contact me," Joshua said. "But there was a foul-up. The message didn't get me until too late. They knew the band had been grabbed. From what I understood, they were just going to scout a possible lead."

Frank didn't look up. Fenton turned a brief glare back at him, then faced Joshua again. "That doesn't excuse him —"

"As to what happened after that," Joshua cut him off, "I don't care — except for the important part. Your son's alive. Both of them. And three people who would be dead right now — dead by torture — are still alive, because both your sons had the guts to make hard choices and follow through."

Now Fenton was silent.

"Some mistakes carry their own punishment," Joshua went on, quieter. "What your sons are going through right now is far harder than anything you can abuse them with. Right now, they need a father who loves them. Not one who'll continue the beat-down the killers started."

His expression hard to read, Fenton looked back again at Frank.

"If you want the whole story," Joshua said. "I can tell you. And I can tell it more coherently and in more detail than your son can manage right now." He gave Kris a look and let Fenton lead him away, to one of the waiting room areas.

Frank hadn't moved, his head still in his hands. Kris sat down next to him, put her good arm around his shoulders.

"He's playing decoy again," Frank said, half to himself.

"It's what he does," Kris said. "He'll extort a pizza out of you later for it. Double-cheese, with shrimp and pineapple."

A sob of laughter shook him; Frank choked it off, hands clenched.

Kris tightened the hug. "It's okay to laugh. It's okay, big brother."

"Dad's right." It choked off. "I shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have listened to Joe. I should have —"

"If you'd stayed, there'd be five more people dead, including you. You really think that's better?"

Frank said nothing.

"Put the blame where it belongs," Kris said. "On the ones that did this. You didn't do anything wrong." She fell silent; her own memories crowded too close, recent and far past. She swallowed them down, lowered her voice, mindful of the cracked-open room door nearby. "And Joe needs you more than ever. Not to be strong. He's going to need you to tell him — to show him — that it's okay to cry, or laugh, or get angry, or be alone. And for someone to keep telling him that it wasn't his fault, until he believes it."

His face damp, eyes red, Frank was giving her one of those long, serious looks. "Tagalong," he said softly, "when the hell did you get so much older than me?"

"I don't want to be," Kris whispered. She bowed her head. "I never wanted to be."

The floor assistant came out of Joe's room, nodded at them. Kris let Frank give her a hand up and lead her into the room, but she pulled him to a stop just inside the doorway.

Joe was trying to push himself up in the bed with his good arm while working around the tangle of tubes and monitor lines; he looked exhausted. Thick lines of abrasion, deep bruises, and rope-burn ringed his neck, and his eyes were red, swollen. The TV was on, some morning news show, and the window was open, letting in sun, the morning air and the sounds of the revel outside.

"I want," Joe rasped, "a double-cheeseburger. With fries."

Frank breathed out a laugh; Kris didn't move. "Want company?" she said to Joe. "Or you want to be alone?"

Joe stared. Then he nodded. "Come on in."

"Is there a way to sneak a cheeseburger in?" Frank said to her.

It sounded light enough. She knew better, but played along anyway. "I don't believe you, Joe. You've got Roy and Alma at your beck and call, and you ask for a cheeseburger? You're trying to get me in trouble with Josh, aren't you?"

Joe grinned. "You still look terrible, Tag."

"Better than you," Kris said; he dropped his gaze. "It looks worse than it is. They reset my shoulder, bandaged the rest, then yelled at me for abusing my Gift. Then they got snarked off when I told 'em I wasn't staying. The usual."

"The usual?" Frank leaned against the wall by the window and fixed her with his overprotective-big-brother-better-not-be-really-hearing-this look. "Tell me you're kidding."

Abruptly Kris was tired of playing along. She sank into one of the chairs, emotion and pain tremoring through her voice. "And right now, it all hurts and I just want to go back to Alma's and sleep for a week. Only reason I'm still not doped up is that pain meds kill my shields. And I've got just enough Empathy…no. I'm not going un-shielded here. Period."

That honest, open admission — she saw it hit Joe. His false bravado dropped, and he was staring at her again, biting his lip.

Frank looked from her to Joe and back: Overprotective Big Brother didn't seem to know how to react. "Empathy. Josh said something about Vão in all that…"

She wouldn't look at either of them. "Yeah. The killers tore his shields down." Now she met Joe's gaze. "What they did to you. What they did to Nathaniel — the other guy. Vão went through it, as if it was done to him." She breathed out, tried to calm down. "His body's reacting as if he's got all your stuff and Nathaniel's. The only way they can try to break it is to drug him into coma."

"Dear God," Joe breathed.

"Joe, what did you do yesterday? And don't dodge the question. It was your signature I caught near Vão." Kris had seen it the moment she'd come in the room; Joe's Gift now glowed strong, unleashed, to her mage-sight. Something else had happened, in all that mess.

…oh gods, if Thatcher had figured out Joe was an amp…

"I — I saw…something." Joe glanced towards the room door and swallowed hard. "Something binding him. Red light." His voice was raspy, thick, choked off in intervals as if he was having trouble breathing. "Frank came out. I couldn't — I couldn't let them — so I just threw it. I don't know what. Whatever's inside me. At that light."

That was the shock she'd felt. Kris just looked at him. Waiting for the rest.

"And when you and Josh — it was going to blow." Joe looked near tears. "You were…shielding?" She nodded. "I remembered what you said, about me hooking in. So I — I tried to hook in."

She still said nothing, thinking. There was more to it, she was certain. But she wasn't going to push him. Not now.

"Did I — what I did — I hurt him more." Joe stared at the sheets. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean…I only thought…"

Glaring at her, Frank now stood over his brother. "Back off, Kris. You and Josh beat us in the face with this crap, we got dragged into this, and you dare get on Joe's case? He doesn't have any of your so-called training —"

She startled. "Huh? Oh gods — no. No. Joe, no, you didn't — Frank, cut me a break, please. I'm not tracking too well right now. And I'm sorry, big brother. I didn't mean it like that. You just explained some things, that's all." Kris tentatively touched Joe's shoulder; he reached up with his good hand and grabbed hers in a fierce clasp. "You didn't hurt him. What you did — it saved your life. If Vão did what I think he did."

"Well," Frank said, "that was your usual explanation-that-makes-no-sense."

Joe choked on a laugh; Kris collapsed back in the chair. "Sorry," she said, rubbing at her eyes. "Okay. That light — it was binding Vão's Gift. He's a projective Empath. He can make you feel what he's feeling. You broke the binding —"

"Thatcher," Frank said suddenly.

Kris nodded. "Imagine getting hit with all that,"her gesture took in all of Joe's injuries, "all at once. And Nathaniel's."

Joe lifted his head, his voice savage despite the choked rasp. "So the bastard got payback. Good."

A burst of helicopter noise from the TV caught their attention. The news was showing an aerial view of the produce factory. Roof in pieces, one wall gone, structural integrity doubtful. Debris everywhere. The captions flashed the number of bodies so far, the damage done, no clues, no suspects.

"My God." Frank sounded stunned. "We survived that?"

"Yeah, because we had help." Kris gave Joe a steady, even stare; he dropped his gaze back to the sheets. "Big brother, if you're able to do all that untrained…"

"Just great," Frank said. "Now I've got to explain to Dad why I'll be digging a bomb shelter in the backyard."

"Well, you are the oldest," Joe said, with a weak grin.

"Um, he only said he's explaining to your dad," Kris said. "He didn't say anything about your aunt."

Whether Thatcher had figured the amp part out or not, he was dead. That was all that counted, now. Anything and everything else could wait.

Joe blinked at her, then looked at his brother; Frank's expression was calm innocence. "Great," Joe muttered. "You're all heart."

Movement at the door startled them: Fenton stood there. Frank looked away, his stance going from Protective Older Brother back to cowed and shamed; Joe kept his gaze down.

It hurt. She didn't want to leave her big brothers like this, not if Fenton was going to continue the verbal beat-down. But Joshua stood behind Fenton and was gesturing her out emphatically.

Kris pushed to her feet, gripped Joe's shoulder. "You want a cheeseburger, I'll brave Josh for you, okay?" She glanced at Frank. "Two of them."

"Extra pickles," Joe rasped.

But before Joshua took her out of the room, Fenton had pulled Frank into a long hug, father to son…and then sat carefully on the edge of the bed to do the same with Joe.

"A cheeseburger," Joshua said, as he and Kris walked out of the Center.

"Don't you dare say no. Don't you dare."

"Partner,"Joshua said, "if that's all he wants, I'll gladly get Uncle Roy to barbecue it right there in his room. But his standards are way too low. I'm going to make him and his brother a far better offer."