Disclaimer as in chapter one. Thanks, as ever for the reviews.

Life would be so much simpler if I didn't have to work for a living… Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter up.

BLAME

As the door banged behind him, Fenton allowed free rein to the red mist that had threatened to descend the moment he had walked in on Houghton.

He was wound tighter than a spring: his fists were clenched, his shoulders were tight and he knew his nervous energy was way off the scale.

He made no attempt to rein that anger in – instead he relished it. In some way, it empowered him – and it gave him the strength to hold onto his belief; to the victory he had somehow just won.

In short, he was an explosion waiting to happen.

So, when a hand grasped his arm and he heard the gruff demand of: 'what did he say?', he reacted instantly – and instinctively. Whirling around, he released all of the pent up energy that he'd previously been forced to keep in check. His fist lashed out and connected solidly with something.

Pain shooting through his hand, and then up his arm, cleared the red mist as effectively as if he had been struck himself – and he stared down, with shocked eyes, at the man he had just hit.

Thomas Carr glowered back up at him:

"You're going down for this, Hardy," the Agent growled as he worked his jaw – then he spat onto the floor and Fenton was mildly pleased to see that his spittle was stained with blood.

It reassured him to know that he still possessed such strength – especially after everything that had so recently happened. It somehow only reinforced the passion that drove him – a passion he knew he still needed to hold onto.

"Stay away from my family." After facing down Houghton, threatening an FBI Agent meant nothing to Fenton. To him, Thomas Carr was just a bug on his shoe.

"Hardy…" Carr raised himself up onto one elbow and glowered at the PI. "You're gonna regret…"

"Maybe I am." Only slightly appeased by the release of some of his pent up emotions, Fenton interrupted the stereotypical cliché Carr was in the midst of spouting: "You can arrest me at the hospital." He took a moment to bore his gaze into Adrian Mason's eyes – almost daring the other Agent to cause his further trouble. "I'm going to be with my son."

He turned on his heel then and stalked away. Behind him, he thought he heard Carr cry out plaintively to his partner: 'Adey?'

The response wasn't meant for him to hear – and Fenton respected that. Years with the NYPD had taught him the importance of partnership. And how, even if you were partnered with a real jerk, you backed him – or her – to the hilt.

When Mason muttered: 'you don't think you were ever asking for it?' Fenton did them both the courtesy of pretending not to hear.

Sam elected to stay at the precinct. There were still questions to be answered about the investigation and Sam intended to hang around – looking over people's shoulders, bugging them and generally getting in the way; until they gave the information he sought just to get a little bit of peace and quiet or to make him go away.

So Chief Collig drove Fenton back to he hospital in his own car. As soon as they were underway, Fenton looked sidelong at his long-time friend:

"There really is no need for this," he said. "I could have driven…"

"Don't you think you're a little too angry to be behind the wheel?" Collig responded with a 'look' of his own.

Fenton sighed, suitably abashed: "I guess I've caused a whole lot of trouble for you." He was genuinely contrite; that had never been his intention.

"You assaulted an FBI Agent in my precinct." The Chief retorted – and his tone held a hint of mild irritation. "I don't care if the man was a complete jackass. It's going to take some smoothing over. Or some serious ass-kissing."

"I'm sorry about that." And Fenton truly was sorry for causing trouble for his friend. He found that he didn't care one iota about what he'd actually done – and that surprised him somewhat. He wasn't a violent man by nature.

Then he found himself thinking back over every interaction he'd had with Carr – from the moment they'd first met – and the man had done nothing but antagonise him; putting Joe's welfare right at the bottom of his list of priorities. Though he could understand the importance of catching wanted men and escaped felons, he'd worked with the FBI in the past – and so knew that such an attitude wasn't typical.

Even thinking about Carr was making his ire grow again and so Fenton deliberately pushed those thoughts away. He didn't want to risk losing his short hold on his temper again – not when his only target was one of his oldest friends.

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked instead; unable to keep the reluctance out of his voice. He feared that all he had to offer was an apology – and he couldn't genuinely believe that Carr deserved one.

Thankfully, Collig seemed to read him easily and shook his head. "It's in hand. Riley's pretty good with words," he smirked. "I told him to spin it so that the Agents can't make any complaint without ending up facing some serious questions regarding their own conduct. He can handle it."

"Thanks." Fenton felt humbled that his explosion of anger had been so efficiently and effectively cleaned up.

"I didn't like the guy, either." The Chief responded with typical nonchalance. Then he aimed another sidelong glance: "So, were you telling the truth back there? Did Houghton really give you what you need to help Joe?"

"I don't know," Fenton answered; knowing that, with just the two of them in the car, his indecision would remain confidential. "Maybe he gave me an idea… I won't know until I talk to Joe." He leant back against the headrest and then made one final admission: "I just had to take something out of the room with me."

Then he was completely taken aback when the Chief let out a chortle – there really was no other word for it. Fenton honestly couldn't remember ever hearing him make such a sound before. "What?" he had no choice but to ask.

"The second you closed the door, Houghton shut up. He seemed to… shrink in on himself – and he was meek as a kitten when we took him back to his cell." Collig diverted his attention from the road just long enough to shoot a smile at his friend: "So I guess you took out a whole lot more than you realised."

Fenton was actually feeling a little buoyed when he walked back through the doors of the hospital. Collig's words had done more than cheer him; more than accentuate his victory over his enemy.

They had made him believe that maybe, just maybe, it really was possible that everything would turn out alright.

He actually felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips – though he did pause to wonder just how much punching out Thomas Carr had to do with that.

Then he noticed Frank and saw him get to his feet – and heard him overly loudly announce his arrival to Gertrude. A few heads turned, but then they quickly looked away. Everybody in the Waiting Room was involved in their own drama – and so they had no concern for his.

Fenton thought little of it; putting his son's actions down to pent-up nervous energy – something he could easily relate to. After all, Frank had been sitting around for what must have felt like forever; drinking cup after cup of bad hospital coffee; and with nothing to do but try not to watch the clock, and find some way to keep his Aunt occupied.

But then Frank's eyes grew wide – and a look of fear flashed across his features.

Fenton felt panic well within him. He'd only been gone for a couple of hours – what could possibly have happened?

He ran forwards, unashamedly ignoring the disapproving looks aimed in his direction. His panic – that shut down all rational thought – dictated his actions.

"Frank, what is it?" Fenton felt almost on the verge of hyperventilating and he gulped in a breath; grasping Frank's shoulders in an effort to ground himself. He forced out his next words, through a throat that felt too tight. "Is it Joe?"

'Is it Joe?'

Frank hadn't spared a second to wonder how his dad might react to being greeted by him in such a frantic state – but he couldn't help it.

He'd seen his dad walk through the hospital doors; and then he'd seen Chief Collig following him, as though he was his escort.

And there were two cops currently keeping a very close eye on his brother – and nobody had yet provided him with a reasonable explanation as to why. A thousand thoughts and fears crowded into his brain. But none of the explanations he could come up with, however wild, were at all reassuring as to what might be going on.

His dad was looking so scared – and his desperate question had revealed the reason for that; or at least part of the reason, Frank inwardly surmised. At least it was easy or him to take some of that fear away.

"No! No… It's not Joe." He stared up at his dad – and it didn't matter that they were almost exactly the same height; he knew he would always be looking up to him. He heard tears in his voice and hated them; but he was powerless to prevent them. "The police are with Joe and the Chief's with you… Dad? What's going on?" A new and unforeseen terror spiked through him, as he reached the only conclusion he could: "Did Houghton get away?"

"No, Frank." Fenton hurried to reassure his son. That was the nightmare none of them wanted to visit. "No. The Chief just…" He glanced towards Collig, offering an apology – and also another silent thanks for everything that had transpired. But Frank didn't need to know that his dad might yet face charges of assault – and not against their enemy, but against a Federal Agent. He didn't want to lie to his son, so he opted for an innocuous half-answer: "He gave me a ride, because Sam's still back at the station."

Frank couldn't know for sure that his dad wasn't telling him everything, but he was astute enough to suspect that there was more going on than met the eye.

It didn't matter. He still had his own questions that needed to be answered, so he had no choice but to insist. The thought of his injured and vulnerable brother needing a guard scared the hell out of him: "But dad, what about those two cops?"

"Carl Stafford wasn't apprehended." Fenton tried to make it sound unimportant, almost throwaway. "We have no reason to believe…" He trailed off as inflammatory words came back to him: 'The man's a professional. And he doesn't like loose ends.' "It's just a precaution," he concluded, lamely.

He just prayed he was telling the truth; that Mason's words had been exaggerated, or a scare tactic – though that seemed more Carr's speed than his partner's.

But the last thing his family needed right now was another revenge-driven criminal gunning for them.

TBC