MissMe113: In a word, yes. It's gonna get ugly, but probably not in the way you think. And thanks for the giggle at you getting giddy over the possibility of tears! LOL! :p

Helen: Thanks so much! :-) I was trying to capture what Joe was feeling without going too far in one direction or the other (too much or not enough).

No1butjoe: Hey, what can I say, it was a good place to end the chapter. LOL!

Miss Fenway: Thanks! I can't believe you stayed up Saturday night! :o I didn't even realize they'd played until I saw the score Sunday morning! LOL! And was last night's partial game the most bizarre thing you've ever seen??? :o  It's supposed to rain here (with temps in the 40's and tropical storm force winds!) straight through tomorrow afternoon so I don't know HOW they think they can finish the game tonight! :-/

Josie: Yup, I've always thought it was much harder for a person to recover from psychological injuries than physical ones; and much easier for them to hide the fact that they weren't recovering very well. ;-) I broke Joe?? Don't you still have some Boosting glue left? :p

Calathiel: Thank you so much! I think it would kill Joe for Vanessa and Laura to hear any of that right now.

Polaris: ROTFL!! Sick and twisted – I like that in a person! :p

Pally: Sadly, yes he does. And again whenever the trial occurs. Something to look forward to! LOL!

TraSan: You're exactly right! I think it's a double-edged sword for all of them.

Vanished

Chapter 29

Fenton Hardy watched as Joe began to detail his twenty-four hours of hell. To those who didn't know him well, like Carlos, Joe simply appeared to be stating facts. Fenton, however, could tell his son was having a difficult time recalling the cruelty he had suffered and was struggling to maintain his composure. The way Joe would continually pick up the remote control for the bed, roll it around in his hand and then put it back down; the meticulous way he rolled and unrolled the hem of the sheet; and most telling of all, the way his eyes would frequently dart to his older brother for reassurance despite his obvious attempts to stay focused on the wall in front of him. It didn't help that Joe had never been confined to bed for such a long period of time before, resulting in an enormous amount of pent up nervous energy with no way to release it.

Turning his gaze on Frank, Fenton began to wonder if he should even be there. Frank had already begun to question his decision not to fatally shoot Keith Rashman at a moment when it would have been justified.

As Joe spoke, his words acted as an accelerant on the fire that raged inside Frank. Joe had barely begun and Frank was already on the verge of exploding. Frank wasn't sure which was worse – the overpowering need for revenge against the man who had hurt his brother, or the all consuming anger he had for himself at not finding Joe sooner, which would have spared him from at least some of Rashman's abuse.

Frank found himself only half listening to what Joe was saying, knowing full well if he took in every sordid detail he would flee the room within minutes, and make his way to the jail cell Rashman now called home with only one objective in mind – murder. Despite what he was feeling inside, Frank forced himself to stay calm, determined not to let Joe see how upset he was.

He heard Joe say something about having difficulty talking. A broken jaw? Malick had hit Joe, punched him, before turning him over to Rashman – the specialist. Frank heard the rustling of paper and looked down. He wanted to look away, avert his eyes, but he couldn't. Instead he stared, transfixed at the picture Joe now held in his hand, listening to his brother's soft, tormented voice.

Joe was describing how the burns on his arm came to be. Closing his eyes, Frank blocked everything out – Joe's voice, the picture, Carlos' probing questions. He wanted to be here for his brother, to support him, but Frank wasn't sure how much he could take without losing it. The more he heard, the more obsessed he became with one thing – killing Keith Rashman.

'Come on. Get a grip.'

Calling on everything he had ever learned in his martial arts training, Frank forced himself to calm down. Joe needed the brother he always depended on, the brother who was calm, cool and collected; in control no matter what the crisis. Not the brother who was suddenly consumed with thoughts of murder and revenge.

It took a few moments before Frank felt even remotely like himself again and knew that was the best he could do. He hoped he could fake the rest of it and make Joe believe he wasn't on the verge of an emotional meltdown.

"He held the flame right against my arm. I tried to pull away, but the chains…I couldn't move." Joe stopped and stared at the picture a moment longer, before turning away.

Instinctively, Joe looked towards Frank as he always did when he needed support. Joe had expected to see rage, anger or some other similar emotion and was stunned to see…nothing. Frank's eyes, his face, showed no emotion at all. They were neutral, as if he were looking at a picture of a garden or a beach instead of his brother being burned with an open flame.

Watching the silent exchange between his sons, Fenton realized what Frank was trying to do – and also realized Joe had completely misunderstood his brother's reaction. Seeing the pictures of what Joe had gone through and confronting Rashman in the courtroom the previous day had pushed Frank to his limit. While Fenton understood Frank wanting to be here to support Joe, he also understood that listening to Joe recount every detail and seeing the pictures again could be more than enough to push Frank over the edge.

Taking in the look on Frank's face and in his eyes, Fenton understood the only way Frank could keep his sanity for the next few hours was to completely shut down. Suddenly he was no longer the hovering, overprotective older brother, but rather a calm, dispassionate, neutral observer, seemingly indifferent to the gruesome details Joe was relating.

Joe quickly turned back to Carlos who leaned forward, and took the picture from Joe. "How many times did he bring the flame in contact with your arm?" Carlos asked as gently as he could. "Do you remember?"

"Four times, I think. Maybe five," Joe replied, this time looking to his father, who nodded at him supportively.

"Were you burned anywhere else?"

"No."

"Were you aware that he had taken these pictures?"

Joe thought about the question. The pain had been excruciating, unbearable to the point where he wasn't aware of anything else. He leaned forward looking at the pictures Carlos had laid out on the table, and pointed to the one where he was leaning his head back against the post.

"No, not until he took this one." He recalled that he had been desperately trying to focus on the stars to escape the pain in his arm when he saw the first flash. "He told me I was going to become part of his resume…" Joe paled as he remembered what else Rashman had told him about the pictures and turned to his father, his eyes wide. "He said he liked to send one to the family."

"He didn't have time, Joe," Fenton reassured him quickly. "No one else has seen them."

Feeling his stomach start to rebel as it had done the day before, Frank tuned out Joe's voice, unable to listen to anymore. He wasn't sure how long he had "zoned out" but he knew it had to have been awhile as Joe was now answering questions about the knife wound.

Joe was relating what had happened when Rashman figured out he was Fenton Hardy's son. Stealing a glance at his father, Frank saw nothing but anguish as his father's unspoken fear that Joe had suffered even more because of him was now confirmed.

Frank took several slow, deep breaths as he watched Carlos hand Joe another picture. Frank stared at it as if mesmerized, once again unable to look away. He felt the muscles in his neck and back tense up, the anger searching for some kind of outlet. Feeling Joe's eyes on him, Frank forced himself to remain calm, dispassionate. He wanted to say something to his brother, to reassure Joe, but didn't trust himself to speak, knowing the rage would be evident in his voice. Not wanting to upset his brother, Frank remained silent.

"Did he say anything?"

"Yeah, he, uh…" Joe stopped, still watching his brother and starting to get a little unnerved at Frank's response – or lack of response.

"Joe?" Carlos pressed, and then looked at Fenton confused.

"Joe, do you need to take a break?" Fenton asked, concerned.

"No." Joe turned away from his brother, hoping he had imagined it.

Frank stared at the picture, and shook his head trying to silence the voice in his head that told him if he had reached Joe sooner that picture, and many others, wouldn't exist.

Out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw Frank shaking his head.

'What? What did I do wrong? What was I supposed to do?' Joe thought, confused, mistakenly assuming Frank was somehow disappointed in him.

"What happened after that?" Carlos' voice brought Joe back to the present.

"The chain," Joe responded as he remembered telling himself if he just held on a little longer, Frank would be there. He related the details of the beating, answering a few questions from Carlos. Unable to stop himself, Joe turned to look at Frank and once again saw the same blank stare. Not taking his eyes off his brother's face, he continued speaking, finishing with the bucket of water Rashman had doused him with.

"I remember choking on it and how it hurt just to breathe." His voice trailed off as he realized he wasn't imagining it – Frank was avoiding him.

Joe stared at his brother as he explained the second drenching of water and the jar of scorpions, watching to see if Frank would respond with any kind of emotion and was disheartened to see the same neutral, dispassionate gaze. Confused and bewildered, Joe turned to his father in desperate need of support and was grateful when Fenton nodded encouragingly.

While Fenton knew exactly why Frank was so quiet and seemingly unsupportive, he understood that Joe had no idea. Joe hadn't witnessed Frank's reaction when he had stumbled upon the pictures the previous afternoon. And Fenton was certain Frank hadn't told Joe anything about it, knowing how much it would upset him.

As the afternoon wore on, Fenton began to notice the increasing difficulty Joe was having in responding to Carlos' questions. He knew it wasn't just the questions or the pictures that had Joe so unnerved. Frank's reaction – or lack of reaction – to what had happened to his brother had thrown Joe completely off balance.

Joe had been looking to Frank, literally, for the support he needed to get through this afternoon. Joe had been expecting to see the protective "shield" Frank always threw up around him when things got too difficult; to feel that Frank was ready to jump to his defense if he thought Joe was being pushed too hard. Instead, Joe was seeing a suddenly cold and distant older brother who seemed to be taking the abuse Joe had suffered in stride. Unaware of what had taken place the day before, Joe couldn't possibly know the real reason for Frank's seeming lack of concern.

Recognizing that Frank's presence was actually doing Joe more harm than good, Fenton tried repeatedly to get Joe to take a break in order to get Frank out of the room. Joe however was insistent that he wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible, refusing to stop even for a moment. The hurt and confusion was evident in his eyes every time Joe looked at his brother.

Unfortunately Frank was now so blinded by anger at himself and a thirst for revenge, he couldn't see what his unemotional reaction was doing to Joe. Frank would give a cursory glance to the pictures Carlos would periodically hand to Joe. Sometimes he would add a curt nod in Joe's direction if he noticed Joe looking at him. What Frank failed to notice was the flash of guilt in Joe's eyes as he wondered what he had done that would cause his brother to be so disappointed in him.

By the time Joe had finished, the tension in the room had encompassed all of them. Sensing it was a "family matter" and had nothing to do with Joe's statement, Carlos quickly gathered up his things and said his goodbyes. Relieved that it was over, Fenton hoped to quickly get his sons back on the same page. But before he could speak, the door to the room opened and two nurses came in, carrying sponges, various tubes of ointment and clean bandages.

"I'm sorry but I have to ask you to wait outside for a few minutes," one of them addressed Fenton before turning to Joe. "We need to clean and re-bandage your arm."

Sighing at the lousy timing, Fenton stood and gently squeezed Joe's shoulder. "We'll be right outside."

Sinking back into the pillows, Joe nodded, feeling numb. Turning for one more look at Frank, hoping to see that he really had imagined his brother's apparent indifference, he was met with Frank's retreating back as he quickly exited the room.

Closing his eyes, Joe tried to ignore the painful process, which seemed twice as difficult as usual today and felt as if it lasted twice as long. As the last of the bandages were secured, one of the nurses gently laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll be right back with some Percocet."

"Can I have some morphine instead?" Joe requested softly.

"Hurts more than usual today?" she asked, sympathetically.

"Yeah. And could you tell my Dad and brother they can leave. I'd just like to sleep for a while."

"Of course."

Joe heard the door open and close as she left. He heard the muffled voices of his father and Frank and guessed they were somewhat surprised at his request to be left alone. A few moments later, she returned and Joe gratefully swallowed the pill she offered. Closing the blinds and turning off the overhead light, she quietly slipped out of the room.

Joe lay back and waited for the medication to take effect, hoping it would ease not only the pain in his arm, but the pain in his heart as well.

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A/N: I promise on my complete collection of Casefiles that there will be a brotherly heart to heart coming up very soon, so don't throw anything at me! :p