Paul and the boys had rushed to the hospital as soon as Anita had called the garage. Now, Paul, Ron, Anita, and Joe were sitting around Danny as the three other boys waited for their turn outside. (Fenton and Frank tactfully stayed away in an effort to keep up the ruse that Joe had no correspondence with them.) Anita was holding Danny's hand with both of her own.

"Do you remember what happened, sweetie?"

Danny, still beaten and battered, nodded carefully, but looked warily at Joe. "Is that my jacket?"

Joe grimaced uncomfortably, but Ronnie stepped in. "This is Joe Hardy, from school. The detective, remember? He's undercover with us, trying to find the mug what did this."

"That don't explain why he's wearing my leather jacket."

Ronnie chuckled, patting Danny's arm. "Look at him, Dan, you know this square didn't have any cool clothes to fit in with us."

Joe opened his mouth to protest, but Paul cleared his throat loudly. "Enough boys. Danny, tell us what happened."

Joe fell silent, but nevertheless took off the jacket and folded it over the end of Danny's hospital bed.

Placated, Danny began his story. "I was cleaning up the shop on Friday. There was a small oil spill, so I was there later than normal. I heard a knock on the door. It was probably around 10 or so. I figured maybe one of the guys forgot something. I opened the door. I didn't recognize him, but he asked for you, Paul. He said he was your brother."

Paul instantly seized up, grasping the armrests of his chair like a lifeline. His wizened face paled as he gasped for breath.

"That's- that can't be- it's impossible."

Danny looked taken aback, for he was the only one who had not heard Paul's tragic tale of his brother's fate. "Paul-"

Paul stood up quickly, his chair falling behind him with a bang. He clenched his fists again and again, and he made for the door, as if lunging for an escape.

As Paul reached the doorknob, he paused. "No," he shook his head, laughing incredulously. "That's impossible… The sicko who attacked you was probably lying, he had to have been-"

Anita gently spoke. "Paul. Hear the rest of what Danny has to say," she implored, "Maybe things will make sense."

Paul frowned, his jowls more pronounced than ever. "Very well," he said, sheepishly pulling his chair upright, and sitting down once more. "Continue."

Danny continued, "I didn't believe him at first, because you always said you didn't have any family. But he told me about growing up with you in Philadelphia, and it seemed to make sense with the little pieces I knew about your past. Maybe I shouldn't oughta let him in-"

Danny was starting to get agitated, seeing how Paul had reacted. His mother pushed him back onto his pillows, and brushed back his hair. It seemed to calm him, and Danny closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

After a few moments Joe asked, "Did he just fall asleep?"

Danny opened his eyes wryly. "No, Hardy, I was just gathering my thoughts."

Danny breathed in deeply. "I let him in, and I turned to the office to go call you, Paul. Then I feels a pain on the back of my head, and blacked out. He must have worked me over then. I didn't feel anything again until I woke up a bit ago. Now I'm all aches."

Anita once again grabbed Danny's hand. Joe asked, "What did this guy look like?"

Danny answered, "He was completely bald, with thick glasses. But his mouth, the way he spoke- Paul, he was just like you."