Note: Another super long chapter (6300-ish words), which could have been three chapters! :) What can I say? I like to give a lot of detail. I wanted to give credit here for the first section of the chapter to Moon in Scorpio for the idea about therapy, and for several of you who had commented earlier that Frank and Callie were so close now that they had pulled apart from everyone, because of their secret knowledge of her past and Frank's obsession to protect her at all costs. You got me thinking- maybe they should realize that, too- and become better as a result of it. See? Your suggestions and constructive feedback help me a lot. I listen and think! Many, many thanks to those who have commented since the last chapter: Red Hardy, hbndgirl, EvergreenDreamweaver, BeeBee18, Erin Jordan, max 2013, BMSH, sm2003495, Caranath, and Paulina Ann.

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 29

New Year's Eve

"Baby, there's no way I'm leaving you by yourself. No way. It's not gonna happen," Frank said adamantly to Callie. He was sitting in the chair next to her bed, having just dropped JJ off with Vanessa, who had come to the hospital to pick him up and drive him back to Fenton and Laura's house for their annual New Year's Eve gathering.

"Yes, you are," Callie responded evenly and pushed the button to make the bed incline even more so that it rose almost to a sitting position. "And I won't be alone. My parents are coming. Now- help me stand up."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "No. You're not ready. Besides, bed rest means just that- rest in bed."

Callie closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. She didn't have the energy to argue with Frank tonight, she really didn't, but she knew it was time for this conversation to happen. Here I go, about to pull a Joe, she couldn't help but to think to herself, and she had to give a small smile at that thought. She had come to think of "pulling a Joe" as speaking off the cuff, going with the flow, having no plan; she'd done that plenty of times in her life before, especially with Frank, with whom she had no pretense or guard up. Here goes nothing…

Already almost sitting, she released the bed rail and started to swing her legs over the side. She grimaced as she did so, hating to admit that it was far harder and more painful than it should have been. He was at her side instantly.

"What are you doing?" he asked, half-panicked. "You need to stay still! Callie, if-"

She held up her hand to silence him as she slowly caught her breath. "Are you going to help me or not?" she asked, pointedly.

He looked torn. "Help you do what?" he finally asked.

"Just get me out of this bed. Please," she added. "Just for a few minutes."

"Where do you want to go?" he asked, and Callie rolled her eyes.

"Frank- stop! How about you help me stand, give me a hug, and then I'll just sit right on your lap -on that chair, not this bed-for ten minutes, and we'll call it a night?" She gave him her winning-est smile.

Frank sighed but smiled. "All right," he acquiesced. "I guess that's not too bad. Ten minutes!" he reminded her.

"Deal!" she replied, and weakly reached her arms up for him.

He came to her side and she could tell that he was being extra gentle. He slid an arm around her waist and stood with her as he helped her up. She was grateful more than ever that he was so strong- she knew if she gained fifty pounds with this pregnancy he could still lift her easily, though, so far, she had gained fewer than ten.

She managed to stand, though she couldn't stop a cry from escaping her lips. It was hard to breathe, her ribs were on fire, and she felt a strong pressure or weight in her lower stomach, back, and pelvis. She knew she was trembling. Still, she clung to him tightly, burying her face into his chest as she tried to get her bearings.

Frank, alarmed, went to move her back to the bed, but she shook her head against him. "No."

She felt him tighten his arms around her, somehow both holding her immobile firmly and cradling her gently. Only he had that ability. She held onto him, a barrier against the pain, and, after a minute or two, she could at least breathe better. She HAD to do this. She had a point to make.

Callie looked up at him at last, saw the concern for her etched deep in his eyes. She saw he was biting his tongue, fighting every instinct he had, to let her do whatever she needed to. She touched his cheek, finally trusting herself not to hold on fully.

"Babe," she said at last, still breathing hard, "We need to talk."

"You can talk sitting down," he pointed out quietly, though he was running his fingers through her hair, fully supporting her with one arm.

"I'm trying to show you that I'm getting better," she replied, breathing slowly. "That there has to be a point where you let me go."

He looked slightly hurt. "That point isn't now."

"I'm okay," she said to him.

"No, you're not," he replied firmly, but sympathetically. Saying no more, he quickly covered the distance with her to the chair and sat down, pulling her gently onto his lap.

Callie felt her emotions swirling out of control and she fought tears as she looked straight ahead, not making eye contact with him. He was right about her physical condition, at least. Her body ached. This movement alone was enough to almost make her pass out. She felt shaky and lightheaded, out of breath. Pain from her ribs aside, the pressure from the cerclage, her stomach, and her back was bad. She felt his arms around her as he kissed her cheek.

"You are a brave, stubborn girl, but you're MY brave, stubborn girl. What did you want to tell me, sweetheart? I'm here. And I will shut my mouth until you get out what you need to." He spoke softly, with affection and tenderness in his voice.

Callie relented at last and allowed herself to relax against him. Finally, she met his eyes. "I want to feel normal again," she found herself saying in a small voice. "I'm so scared about this pregnancy. I'm scared for our baby; I'm scared for me; I'm scared for us."

"I know," he acknowledged her, gently rubbing her back. "I am, too, baby."

She smiled. "But ever since- March-" she hesitated, making sure he understood and saw he did, "we've been living in this little world we created- just us. Honey," she met his eyes, slipped one arm around his shoulders, "this is a new year coming. We need to change. You need to have faith in me that I can be okay - that I will be okay- if you're not around."

He looked startled, hurt. "Oh…"

"Don't misunderstand me," she said, compassionately, and kissed his forehead. She spoke slowly, each word an effort. "Other than JJ, I love you more than anything: you are my best friend, my partner, my lover, my amazing husband. But hasn't this whole year taught you, sweetheart, that you can't control everything? That's what I've thought about ... a lot."

She could tell he was listening, alert. "Go on."

"Frank, sometimes I want to crawl away and hide from the world and have it be just you and me and JJ and… and maybe a new little one." She looked briefly at her stomach, then met his eyes again. "But that's not real life. You try so hard to protect me to the exclusion of everyone and everything else-that's your fault. And I let you, and a part of me so needs you to- that's my fault. But we have family, honey. We have friends. You need to go out again and be silly and show that side to you that I know - that Joe and Phil and your good friends from high school and college know. Go to ball games and dinner and guy's weekends if you need to, and I need to do the same- well, with the girls," she corrected with a smile. "I am so happy with you," she emphasized, making sure he heard her, "and I am so in love with you. I love you more every day-" she quickly kissed his lips. "I trust you, and I want you to be happy, to be FRANK- not just Callie's husband or JJ's daddy or Fenton Hardy's supposedly responsible son. I want you to be - whole again. And forgive me for not letting you be."

Frank met her eyes, his own eyes watery. "I am whole with you," he replied. "And there is nothing to forgive. You will never know how much I love you."

"I DO know," she replied, fighting tears of her own. "Babe, the point I'm making is this." She took a deep breath, fought the pain. "All those years ago, I couldn't control when … IT … happened."

She felt Frank hold her tighter, but his eyes never left hers, offering her unwavering support.

She had to be strong. "That time almost destroyed me, but I survived. I did so because I had an excellent therapist, good doctors, and, above all, Johnny. And when WE finally reunited, I was much stronger, but still- it took years to get back to my new normal- 100%. Frank, in all of this, I realized that YOU never got help, and it was an unfair burden of me to place THAT upon you."

"No. No, baby. I wanted to help you. That's my job." He begged her to understand.

"No, it's not," Callie replied, firmly. "I should never be your JOB. I should be your PLEASURE. I know you don't mean it that way, but it highlights something important. Honey, I think you need to talk to someone. I'm serious. I've learned to cope, but you haven't... and I didn't realize it until this case. You've always had Joe to confide in if you couldn't talk to me, and vice versa. But in impossible times like this, for all the rage, and anger, and confusion- all of the things I went through myself, maybe minus the depression and physical trauma- you have no outlet. Please. Promise me you'll go this year, and I'll go with you- if you want. I think, though, that maybe you'll want and need this time for yourself. Promise me." She touched his cheek gently as a lone tear escaped. "It was traumatic for you, too, Frank. You need to acknowledge that."

He looked down, trying to control the quivering of his lip, blushing.

"Stop, honey," she whispered. "Don't be ashamed. I love you for loving me so much that when I hurt, you hurt. But you know what? Look at me."

He looked up again, unable to speak.

"I'm okay. I'm strong. Yes, I feel safe with you when I'm in your arms. But God gave me my own two feet, too, and they're meant for standing on my own. I have my own voice and opinions, and I'm not afraid to express them. I'm pretty smart. I've lived on my own, I've had jobs and responsibilities and my own hopes and dreams, just like you." She ran her hand through his hair. "I have my own friends and like things you don't, and you have the same. God, Frank- math is so awful."

Despite himself, Frank felt a small laugh escape.

Callie smiled back. "You're my other half, and I am with you- and you with me- as a CHOICE. We make each other better people- most of the time. This year, we saw the worst of what being too dependent on each other means. This case with Cotnig has been going on for nearly a year, with only the smallest of reprieves. It almost destroyed us and our families. Frank, I know you must have been scared to death when your dad was missing. When I was taken with Van and Johnny. Think of what we've been through- it's been hell. You have to acknowledge that."

Frank looked in her eyes and nodded slowly. "It's so much," he managed at last.

"Yes, it is." She closed her eyes for a moment and took a series of shaky breaths. "But it's time to move on."

"How?" Frank asked. "He's still out there."

"Because," she replied, trying so hard to be strong, "you have never failed me. And you won't this time, either."

"Of course I've failed you," Frank choked out, eyes bright with tears. "Many times."

"No, you haven't," she reiterated firmly. "You have to move on. How, you asked me? I'll tell you. Acknowledge what this year - what IT- has done to you. Acknowledge what we have been through. Say it out loud and demystify it. I've had trouble doing it myself. So I'll do it for us, okay?"

"What?! No!" Frank replied, more panicked than he wanted to admit. "I see your point. Fine. I get it."

"I was raped when I was 19," she began, ignoring him, shaking now as she forced herself to take her own advice, "countless times. The pain and trauma were excruciating. You know all the details that I can't even vocalize anymore. But I did share them: with my doctor, therapist, John, and you. As a result of that rape, I almost died. Doctors said I might never have kids."

Tears fell from both their eyes. He tried to calm her. "No... don't say it," he tried to cut her off.

"I WILL say it," she insisted, voice aquiver. "I was RAPED. It crushes me to say the word. To me, to cope, it has always been IT. But what they did to me was not your fault. Don't be afraid of it anymore. And don't always go there, like I used to. Like I still do sometimes." She was shaking still, trying hard to push back the sickening images, the terrible fear. She had to give conviction to her words. "And then this year came. I was kidnapped and I know you feared it would happen again- and yet you couldn't tell anyone. And you were afraid for Vanessa, too, and John, and your dad, and Chief Collig, and for your kid brother, who you saw badly hurt, physically and emotionally. You worried about your mom being taken. You were with John when he died, thank God, but what a horror for you. Then, you watched as I almost died and we almost lost our precious baby. You and Joe fought so badly that you almost lost each other. That's horrifying. Everyone in your life has suffered this year as a result of him- Cotnig- SAY HIS NAME. And you know what? I may lose this baby, too. I may die even trying to have him or her if the pregnancy is viable. That is more trauma than anyone should ever endure. And that is exactly why it has to end."

He leaned his head against the top of hers, nuzzling against her soft hair, and holding her to him tightly. "Cotnig will die," he whispered.

"Yes," she managed. "Good. Like that. Baby, I survived. And so did you. So did ... almost everyone." Her mind flashed to Johnny. "Cotnig has not and did not and will not defeat you or Joe or any of us. We've come too far. You can't pretend he doesn't exist or that everything he did wasn't a reality or that my attack didn't happen. If you do that, you can't win. But if you acknowledge all the pain and rage, and use it to drive you... then, sweetheart, you are unstoppable. Please don't forget that Joe has been through so much, too. His rage has made him love life so much more. Learn from him. Work with him. My Hardy boys are a force to be reckoned with."

Frank kissed her head softly. "So is my angel of a wife. And I think my sister- in-law is pretty tough, too." He chuckled slightly.

"Don't be afraid for me, sweetheart, because I'm not afraid for myself anymore. Frank, the rape- IT - happened to me. And it was horrible beyond imagination. But again- I had no control over it. I couldn't control when I was kidnapped. I couldn't control how and where JJ was born. I couldn't control when my brakes went out, or that some car crashed into the car I was in and I almost died. I can't control if I'll die, or if our new baby will. I couldn't save Johnny. Joe could not save Iola. Despite our best efforts, doing everything right, it was out of our control."

He nodded, eyes still bright with tears. "I know," he said softly.

"It made me realize, baby- we can't control ANYTHING. It's all an illusion. Johnny made me hear that a long time ago, but I didn't really understand it until now. I -actually, honey-I feel more at peace. If I die tomorrow, I lived a good, blessed life. I think Joe gets it, I really do. I think Iola's death made him realize that. And no matter what bad thing falls on us, we go on. Because we have to. Because that's life. It has to be lived. Let's be happy and stop being so serious and have some fun again. I think it's time, Frank. I know it is." She said it with such conviction that he was moved, as she rested her head against his, nestled into his arms.

"I'm so sorry, baby. It IS time," Frank responded as he breathed deeply. She was right- she was absolutely right. Although he loved her and JJ with every fiber of his being, and truly enjoyed their time as a family, he DID miss his old life a little bit, missed being irresponsible and a little wild; missed nights out and sports and impulsivity. Missed the days when he could camp with his friends and brother, or spend the weekend going to college football games. He missed when his dad would just talk to him about sports instead of accounting, when Joe would drag him out against his will to late clubs and parties... but he had fun every time. He even missed the freedom to take Callie away on a spur of the moment vacation, to romance her and get lost with her on purpose, knowing they'd have the time of their lives just in the journey of being together.

Sure, he had a baby now and that came with awesome responsibilities. He was a father, and that had changed him to the core. But he realized that to be a great dad, he had to show JJ facets of his whole life- eventually. Maybe he'd never be as cool a dad as Joe would be… but maybe… hey… it could happen.

It was true. He would love to go back- just a little… and not feel guilty, a feeling that lay entirely on his shoulders, never having come from her. He'd done it for her, but to himself, and the veracity of her words were hitting home. He DID need help. And he owed it to her, to his family... to himself, to get it.

Frank touched her face and kissed her, and she felt a warmth, a flush, throughout her body, despite the pain that continued to grow in intensity, the most literal, truest mixture of pleasure and pain she had ever felt.

"Mmmm," she whispered softly to him. The breathlessness was not from her injuries alone. "I am going to miss S-E-X so much," she said, spelling it out, both joking and, yet, completely serious.

Frank wiped the tears from his eyes and laughed despite himself. "How long again?" he asked with a smile.

"Um... well, it's already been what- five weeks? So, if I am even able to carry the little guy or gal even to the goal of 34 weeks- and then recovery time- I'd say a good five months." She opened her eyes wide and covered her mouth with her hand, in a surprised gesture. "Not good."

Frank groaned. "That is a REALLY long time," he whispered as pulled her close for a slow and deep kiss, careful to be gentle, but, as always with Callie, it was painfully hard to stop. She was so beautiful to him, and they had always had such a passionate spark, had since they met, one that ignited all the time, an almost daily expression of their love, their desire. It was going to be a hell of a long five months...

"You've been there before," Callie teased with a smile as she pulled back, face flushed. Damn. She could barely move, her body trembling from the pain. But she knew she trembled from him as well. It wasn't possible at all to act on, but she wanted him. She always had.

"Don't remind me," Frank whispered huskily. "A babysitter can name the price. Somehow, we'll have to make time to be alone." He kissed her neck.

"To perfect our technique," Callie breathed in a low voice, unable to help herself from flirting with Frank. It was second nature.

"Oh, it's pretty perfect." He went to kiss her lips again, then started trailing kisses along her neck, but he finally pulled back and took a deep breath. "We really have to stop," he told her, with a gentle touch to her cheek. "You need rest. I need a cold shower. I might as well live in one. Maybe an ice bucket."

Callie laughed and grabbed her side as her ribs ached terribly. He always could make her smile. Frank helped her up, knowing she was fragile now, and he kissed her head. Her legs were weak and almost gave out, but he held her up. He always did... but he finally saw that she could have stood alone, on her own two feet, as she had reminded him. He wanted to smile and cry at the thought. He loved her so much that he had to trust that she was her own person without him; and he could stand alone, too, if he ever had to. This case had destroyed that confidence in her and in himself, but he vowed, there and then, to restore it. They had a child. They both had their own families and friends. They were not one person, though he knew they were of one soul. This sorrow needed to end, and he would make sure it did.

Callie knew he was thinking and feeling much, and she allowed him to do so, knowing he needed it. Then, impulsively, more tenderly than she would have thought possible, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. It was a both a huge relief from the pain and incredibly romantic. She held onto him, arms around his neck, and gazed into his deep, dark eyes, ones she had gotten lost in a thousand times, feeling shy suddenly, a small blush coming to her cheeks as she bit her lip. A small smile of complete understanding made its way to his lips. They stayed like that for several minutes in silence, not needing any words, just each other's embrace, the gazes into each other's eyes...souls. Then, light as a feather, he touched his nose to hers, kissed her softly, and helped her lay down. Yes, Frank knew that there were many ways to make love, and not all of them involved the actual act.

By the time she was safely back in bed and Frank had tucked her in, she was exhausted: her heart was full, but her body was screaming in pain.

"So you're going to your parents, right?" she asked him with a pale smile, holding his hand tightly.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a wink . "I should have known better than to argue with you."

"I've told you that since we were 15," she managed, eyes heavy.

"I'm a guy. It takes awhile for things to settle in," he joked.

"Understood," she murmured weakly. She rubbed his wedding ring mindlessly, finding it comforting.

"Cal?" he asked, and she heard the tenderness in his voice, saw the love in his eyes.

"Hmmm?"

"I'll owe you a glass of champagne on this, but can we pretend to toast? To living in the moment and relinquishing control." He smiled at her.

"To our family- together. Always," she added. "I love you to the moon and back," she whispered, something she and Frank always told JJ.

"Happy New Year, my strong, independent, incredible girl," he said to her, and leaned down to kiss her lips tenderly.

She knew that Frank wouldn't leave her until she was finally asleep, until her parents arrived, because she was still scared to sleep alone. But she would do it-because she had to. And she couldn't be afraid anymore. She remembered at once: "It's time to quit being a victim and be a survivor". Yes, it was. Good night, Johnny. Happy New Year in Heaven.

The last thing she remembered was Frank sitting next to her and holding her as she drifted off to sleep, feeling safe, secure, warm in his arms, and dreaming of a new beginning, knowing that she was literally surrounded by his love.

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Joe was completely shocked when Frank came waltzing through the door, bags of food in his hand. He had been playing with JJ when the door opened, and JJ looked up and started with "Dada!" as he crawled quickly to Frank. Frank put the bags of food on the floor and bent down to pick up JJ. "Hey buddy!" he said, kissing him, and JJ put his hand on Frank's shoulder and pointed to Joe. "Unca…"

Frank laughed as Laura came in, kissed his cheek, and took the bags of food, raising her hands in surprise.

"Hey mom. Hey Joe," he said. To JJ, he said, "Yes, little guy. I see Uncle Joe."

"What are you doing here?" Fenton asked, coming out of the kitchen. "And what's with all the food? Wait. Is Callie okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Dad, would I be here with bags of food and in a good mood if Callie wasn't okay?" he asked. "And am I not invited?"

"Of course you're invited, sweetheart," Laura answered, hugging him around the waist. "We just- we didn't expect you."

"Well," Frank answered, hugging Laura around the shoulders, "Callie insisted I come here to spend New Year's Eve with my family. Plus, I took the liberty of calling a few people- hope you don't mind-" he paused apologetically. "Not everyone could come, but Biff and Karen are coming, so are Pat and Marissa and Chet and Robyn. I hope you have enough food for everyone, because these bags are for Chet," he teased.

"What?!" Fenton asked. This was totally out of character for his son, and he was confused. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh, hush, Fenton," Laura chastised him, pleased. "Sweetie, that'd be fine- sure thing. It'll be nice to see everyone here. Is Callie-"

"She's with my in-laws. She's okay- really."

"Mama!" JJ called out, recognizing Callie's name, and Frank laughed and kissed him again.

"Mama," he confirmed.

As Fenton and Laura started prepping for the new guests, Frank plopped on the couch next to Vanessa and threw an arm around her, as JJ crawled right back to Joe, who scooped him up in his one arm.

"How ya doin', sis?" he asked her.

Vanessa's mouth dropped open. Frank NEVER called her 'sis'. That was a Joe and Callie thing, totally. "Well, I'm just fine, bro," she said with a laugh. "Apparently not as good as you, but…"

Frank smiled. "See? Now you get to spend time with the good looking and SMART brother," he said with a wink.

Vanessa burst out laughing. This was definitely NOT the Frank she knew- well, the Frank she knew most of the time, at least. This was the Frank that Joe had told her about for years, the one she had glimpsed only recently.

"Okay, Hottie Hardy…"

"Hey!" Joe interrupted with a laugh.

Vanessa smiled, stood up, walked to Joe and scooped up JJ, kissing his neck and making him laugh. "I'm going to bring the little man inside so we can help grandma and grandpa get some food ready, okay?" she asked. "Catch up. Do your man thing. I'll be back, smarty pants," she said to Frank, as she blew Joe a kiss.

Joe stood up and walked to his brother, and then sat next to him. The brace he had worn since the surgery was finally the lighter one, and he was starting, slowly, to get his mobility back. In two months, he should be healed completely, and he couldn't wait. "What on earth got into you?" Joe asked, happy to see his brother and surprised by the lightness of his aura.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Can't a guy visit his family on a holiday?" he asked.

"Uh… you're not with Callie," Joe pointed out.

"I know," he said, simply. "And it's okay."

Joe looked at him dubiously. "Did you guys get in a fight or something?" he asked.

Frank looked at him, genuinely surprised. "No. Why would you think that?"

Joe went to reply, and then found he didn't know what to say. How could he explain to Frank that he was ALWAYS with Callie, that you never saw one without the other, especially this last year? All he could manage was, "Well, you know, I mean… you're usually together, and she's in the hospital. How is she, by the way?"

"She's in pain. She has a long way to go, but she's fighting. And I think it's okay if we're not together all the time. We discussed it."

Joe was shocked by Frank's candor; his openness. Then, a terrible thought dawned on him and he gasped. "Wait- you guys- I mean, you're not. No. Never mind."

"Not what?" Frank asked, flummoxed.

"Like…" Joe blushed. No way.

"YES?" Frank asked, amused.

"Not separating or anything, right?" He tried to play it off as a joke; it was outrageous. But why would Frank be here?

Frank's eyes grew wide. He answered after a minute. "Joe," he said, gently, "wow. I didn't realize how much we probably have shut people off. Callie and I were literally just discussing this. I'm really sorry."

Joe didn't know how to answer. "I… no. I mean, I get it, Frank. I promise I do. It's been an awful year. Of course you should be together."

"Joe," Frank replied honestly, looking down, "I love Callie. I mean, obviously. But we have our own lives, together and apart. We talked about this a little in a different context before," he reminded Joe, gently. "And Callie and I spoke earlier and she reminded me of a lot of things. I'm sorry about pulling away. I know I have and I didn't mean to. So, if next year you want to hang out more, just the two of us, I'm all for it. I mean," Frank blushed, "I'd like it, actually."

Joe felt a smile tug at his lips. "Yeah. I mean, you know- that'd be cool." He gave Frank a little shoulder punch as a joke.

Frank just smiled.

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Alan Cotnig watched in the shadows as visitor upon visitor arrived at Fenton Hardy's home, and it looked like a full house.

The officers outside the house thought they were so diligent, but even they were relaxing, chatting with each other as they sipped coffee. They even went, periodically, into the Hardy home, laughing and joking with the people inside.

Their guard was down. It was perfect.

He reached out for his throwaway phone, texted Rangers. Waited. He looked down. Good. He was in position outside the Bayport PD, ready. Police precincts were always so sparse on holidays, officers on patrol, excessive drunks on the road, accidents. The problems happened outside, not in the actual buildings.

As soon as he was finished there, he would join him here. And then, they'd depart, with Hardy and Collig, back to the scene of the crime- the cabin he had in upstate New York, not ten miles from where the incarceration facility had burned to the ground, destroying his life. It was totally off the grid, yet close enough to remind him each day of what Collig and Hardy had done to him. The ideal spot, hidden in plain sight.

It would be soon now. A few more hours, at most. He'd waited almost twenty years, so a few more hours wouldn't kill him. It would kill THEM. He smiled at the thought.

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Ezra Collig yawned. Still an hour to go before midnight. He'd already called his wife and kids, his grandchildren, and wished them an early Happy New Year, knowing they'd all be sound asleep soon.

He wished he could be.

He hated this holiday. All promises for a new year, all resolutions, dropped before the first week was over. That part he could deal with- each year did bring a certain amount of hope, he would admit that. But people got crazy on the roads tonight. This, and Super Bowl Sunday, seemed to bring out every closet alcoholic in the world.

He checked his iPad idly. It had been a gift from Fenton for his 63rd birthday this year, which was ironic, considering how Fenton carried the most antiquated technology around, and even more ironic given what a technology whiz his eldest son was. He hadn't known what to do with the newfangled thing, but his six year old grandson had given him a few lessons, and now he had to admit- it was kind of cool. That damned "Angry Birds" game was addicting.

He'd used it in the last few days to watch some shows, to surf the net, to buy a nice necklace for his wife, and to send Callie Hardy flowers at the hospital. He'd even found a great book called "Listening to Your Elders: The Importance of Respecting Authority" and had immediately ordered a copy to be sent to Joe Hardy, chuckling as he did so. Then, on second thought, he'd ordered one for young Officer Merkel, who was, he suspected, quite the mischief maker, himself.

He did enjoy both Hardy kids immensely. Joe was a pain in his ass, a real pisser, but he reminded him of his own son, Glenn, who pushed every boundary given. He was as tough on Joe as he was on Glenn, and he thought Joe was top-notch and pretty hilarious, though he'd never tell him that. And Frank was one of the smartest, most genuinely good kids he had ever known, a kind person to the core, yet tough as nails, no pushover; he could throw down with the best of them. They made a good pair, those two. It had been fun watching them grow up, fall in love, start families.

He was distracted and didn't hear the door open.

"Chief?" a young officer came into his office. "There's a package for you out front. Needs to be signed by you personally. The delivery guy is here."

Ezra swore under his breath. He could only imagine. A court summons? A lawsuit? Personnel complaint? Happy Freaking New Year.

When he entered the main wing, he saw a delivery guy with an envelope.

"Chief Collig?" the man asked.

"Yes?" he asked with a sigh.

"You've been served." He pulled out a gun, pulled the trigger. Then everything went black.

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Fenton smiled as he threw the empty pizza boxes in the recycling bin by the garage door and got to work on the glass bottles of wine and beer and the plastic bottles of water. What would take him ten minutes now would take an hour later, so he didn't mind. It was like shoveling a little at a time before you got snowed in.

There was still a half hour to go until the New Year, and he glanced happily through the front window. Biff was whooshing JJ all around the room, playing "Superman Baby". Laura and Andrea were serving drinks and appetizers. Joe was dancing with Vanessa; Frank and Pat and Chet were laughing about something, and the girls were either dancing or singing to whatever new band was playing at the New Year's Rockin' Eve Party on NBC. The only person missing was Callie, but he had spoken with Robert Shaw, and she was sleeping soundly, continuing what would, no doubt, be a long and painful recovery. But she was alive, thank God.

The new year held many blessings in store.

He had just about finished the sorting, a smile playing softly on his lips, when he felt it, an explosion to his right arm, a hit not intended to kill. Before he could react, he felt a blow to his head.

And then nothing.