A/N: Merry Christmahanukwanzikah to all my reviewers. Thank for the reviews!

As soon as Joe was stable, Nancy was allowed to see him. The nurse had warned her that he was completely unresponsive, but she didn't fully understand until she saw him. He was lying between the white sheets, hooked up to dozens of tubes; fluids, blood, and oxygen being pumped into him, a chart beeping out his slow heart rate. Of course she'd seen him in the hospital before. Detective work was often dangerous. But she had never seen him this still; this pale; this quiet.

"I'm here, Joe." she whispered, almost expecting him to open his eyes. Ever since she had known Joe, he was always so vibrant and full of life and energy. She couldn't stand to see him looking so... dead. Approaching the bed, Nancy gently ran her fingers over the clean bandages covering his chest, relieved that there was no more blood; it made it easier to pretend he was only sleeping. She sat in a chair at his side for a long time, just holding his hand. She didn't remember ever feeling so alone; Joe was here, but at the same time, he wasn't. "Joe, wake up." she said. "Please, Joe, come on... I love you."

He lay still.

Tears slid down her face (would she ever stop crying?) as she gingerly climbed into the bed next to him. She half-wanted to die right there. Kissing Joe's bare shoulder, she rested her head on it gently, being careful not to disturb his wounds. Closing her eyes, she pretended they were at home.

A minute later, the door opened quietly and Nancy could hear Frank and George enter the room. Just thinking about Frank made anger bubble up inside her.

Nancy had no idea what prompted her to be so mad at Frank. Honestly, she couldn't bring herself to blame him for any of this; he had no idea he was being followed, he couldn't have known this would happen. But the irrational side of her mind hated him for coming back from the dead to rip open all these old wounds. She decided the best thing to do was just pretend to be asleep.

Frank sat in the chair Nancy had vacated. After a moment's hesitation, he reached over and smoothed her hair away from her face. "What are you doing?" George asked sadly. "You know this can't work out."

Frank cast a last concerned look at Nancy before turning to George. "I know, but I'm still hoping it will." he answered quietly.

George shook her head. "You have to get over her." she told him. "You know she'll never leave Joe. And you shouldn't want her to."

A new wave of sadness broke over Nancy as she realized how much Frank was hurting. She almost wished she could tell him that she loved him, but she knew she didn't, not as anything more than friends, not anymore.

Frank stared at his comatose brother; the doctor said he didn't know when, or if, Joe would wake up. This wasn't fair, he thought. Not to him, or Joe, or anyone. The Assassins destroy lives, and we're just a few of many.

Nancy was woken a few hours later by the arrival of her father and Fenton and Laura Hardy. Laura immediately ran to her son's bedside, but Carson and Fenton went to Nancy. "How are you, sweetheart?" Carson asked his daughter, hugging her tightly.

"It's not good, Dad." Nancy said, her voice cracking. "They don't know if Joe will..."

"Frank told us that on the phone." Fenton entered gently. "But how are you holding up?"

"The leg stings a little, but other than that, great. Just great." Nancy answered bitterly.

Fenton nodded in understanding, feeling pretty frustrated himself. "Who did this?"

Nancy glowered. "I'm sure Frank will be happy to fill you in."

The hostility in her voice ripped at Frank, along with the unspoken accusation in her words. "I-"

Nancy ignored him. "We think it was the Assassins looking for Frank. You think they'd have better aim for such prestigious professionals..."

The three adults stared at her, shocked by her attitude towards Frank. Carson wrapped an arm around his daughter. "Nancy, I think you should know that thirteen other people were murdered last night: the others who were rescued with Frank." he told her in a low voice.

Nancy pursed her lips. At least we know that they're dead. There's no chance they'll come back in five years to start another nightmare. Even in her current state, Nancy could not bring herself to say that in front of Frank, so she stayed silent.

Frank's world spun. Now there was no doubt about it. The Assassins were responsible for the attack. It was meant to kill him. The others... they thought they were home free. He remembered how they had celebrated when they finally saw the police, even though they didn't all speak the same language. And now they were dead. A short-lived victory.

"It's some kind of miracle that Frank wasn't killed like the others." Her father continued.

"Miracle?" Nancy repeated incredulously. "At what expense? Joe's life?"

"Oh, honey, Joe's a fighter. He'll pull through." Carson murmured back.

"And if he doesn't? What then?" Nancy cried.

At this, Laura broke into quiet sobs. Frank moved to embrace his mother. He couldn't even argue. He agreed with Nancy; this was his fault. It should have been him lying there, not Joe.

"Hold on." Fenton said, more to Frank than Nancy. "Is that what this is about? None of this is Frank's fault."

Nancy knew it wasn't, but she couldn't bite back the hurtful remarks. "They were aiming for him and hit Joe instead."

Frank couldn't breathe. No physical beating could ever hurt this badly. Suddenly, he ran for the door.

Nancy stared after him, feeling horrible for saying what she had, knowing that it wasn't his fault, and yet unable to admit it. Especially in front of all these people. Her father, Fenton and Laura, George... She started to follow Frank, but her father grabbed her wrist. "I don't think that's a good idea." he said gravely.

"I'm sorry." Nancy choked out. She pulled her wrist away and ran into the hall, looking both ways for Frank. She didn't see him anywhere. She grabbed a passing nurse by the sleeve. "Excuse me, did you see-"

"He's in there." the nurse said sympathetically, pointing at a nearby men's room. "Poor dear."

Nancy entered the bathroom without a second thought and heard Frank throwing up into a toilet. He retched violently for a few minutes and then stopped, heartsick and exhausted. She listened quietly as he flushed the toilet but stayed in the stall.

Nancy waited and waited silently for nearly twenty minutes. She couldn't even begin to imagine what she would say to him, how she would explain the things she'd said, how she could justify following him into the men's room... "I'm sorry." she said loudly, her words echoing off the walls of the almost-empty bathroom.

She got no response. "...I didn't mean it." she whispered.

Frank coughed a few times and then opened the stall door, looking pale and drawn, but with a new determination. "Yes you did."

"I didn't." she insisted. "Frank, I would never..." she trailed off weakly. "I was just so angry and scared and worried..."

"You never used to let that stop you." Frank said. "None of us did. When one of us got hurt, we made it our mission to catch the criminal and make them pay. We never just gave up."

Nancy shook her head in protest at the unexpected attack. "I haven't given up. I... I..." she stammered. "What do you want me to do!"

Frank eyed her through red-rimmed eyes. "I don't know what you're going to do. But I'm going to catch the criminal and make him pay."

Nancy thought about it. Would she be able to handle it? "Count me in." she said after a long moment.

Frank nodded, a hint of warmth re-entering his eyes. "Let's do this."

A/N: Wow, I write a lot of dialogue, don't I? I really don't like this chapter, but it was strangely necessary that I include it... Anyway, make sure to review! Thanks for reading!