Thank you all so much for all the love this story has already gotten! I really means so much to know you are all excited about this. Now I just hope it will live up to expectations.

"You do realise this is really morbid, right?" Frank asked.

When Joe had asked him if he would take him around Bayport for the day, Frank had been excited. He had begun to make a mental list of all the places he had always wished he could have taken Joe.

But Joe already had a place in mind and it appeared to be the only place in town he was interested in. He wanted to visit the Bayport Cemetery.

Like most people, Frank had no good memories of the cemetery. He could remember going there for Joe's funeral, burying an empty coffin in an effort to move on from a little boy they had thought was never coming back. Frank had seemed to oscillate from being unable to stay away from the grave and unable to face it as he grew up, unable to truly accept it as a place to remember the brother he had lost.

It felt so surreal to see Joe standing over his own grave. He was just staring. And Frank supposed he understood. It must be quite an experience to see your own weather-worn grave. And he knew it was something solid from the past. He didn't miss the questioning looks Joe sometimes gave them. Between the manipulations of Marsden and the Bramptons and the sudden influx of information about his real family, Frank could tell Joe was struggling to keep it all straight. And he was rightfully suspicious. Ten years was a long time for him to not have been found, especially for a man like Fenton Hardy. Joe had every right to wonder why they had not found him when he had been living freely in New York, not being hidden away in some pit so no one would ever find him.

Still, Frank's skin itched at where they were. His stomach twisted. He had so many bad memories of the place. His mother weeping. His father cursing at the sky. He could remember feeling so very small and alone.

"We should smash it," Joe said.

Frank looked over to see Joe was staring right at him, blue eyes making it clear it was a serious suggestion.

In the half an hour Joe had been musing over the grave, Frank had had a few thoughts of his own as to what they should do with it. He truly had no idea. It wasn't like there was a manual for what to do when your younger brother came back from the dead. He didn't even know who a court would decide legally owned a grave if a person came back from the dead. Were you legally allowed to remove a grave? He supposed there had to be circumstances that allowed it.

"I don't think you can just smash it?"

"Why not? It's mine," Joe asked.

Frank looked around and gestured to the other graves around them. Joe shrugged irreverently, saying he would be careful to only smash his grave.

"Still not very respectful."

"Then what do you suggest we do with it? Chip off the death date and reuse it later?"

Frank winced at the dark joke. It was easy to believe things were going to be perfect again now that Joe was back in Horseshoe Bay but they all knew that wasn't true. Joe's life was still in danger. They were banking on Fenton's reputation to keep the criminals he had upset away. But even with Fenton's impressive career, there was no guarantee they were going to be able to keep Joe safe. And jokes about him dying for real unsettled Frank, even if it seemed like a brand of morbid humour Joe had been taught to enjoy.

"We get it removed and broken apart," Frank said. "And technically, I don't think you own it."

Joe looked almost offended over the suggestion. He asked who Frank thought owned it if not him.

"Probably our parents," Frank said.

"Oh."

Joe paused. He nodded to himself, turning back to the grave. Then he looked toward Frank.

"Can you help me bring it up with them?" he asked. "I'm not sure how Mr Hardy is going to react."

It was Frank who brought up the subject on Joe's behalf. He decided it would be best to just bring it up casually, not make it into a big thing where he alerted his parents to what Joe was thinking and let them conspire behind his back.

They had just been sitting in the sitting room, the brothers watching TV while Laura read and Fenton went over case notes.

"You want to deal with the grave now?" Fenton questioned. "There are a lot of other… You haven't had your first day at school yet. Or done any other reunions."

Joe had been back in Bayport for less than a week but he seemed to be taking everything in his stride. Laura and Fenton had offered to home-tutor him for the first term while he settled in but he had insisted he go to school. He had been co-operative in signing paperwork, giving them details for doctors. They'd taken him to get a check-up which Joe had not appreciated, saying it felt like he was a stray being taken to the vets. But they were hesitant to give him too much too fast. They were holding off on family reunions until they had had a chance to sit Joe down with a photo album and talk through everyone with him. Gertrude was not happy about it but Fenton was firmly insisting on patience. They wanted to ease him into the concept of going to school, introduce him to some of the local teenagers first. They were taking him to a small get-together at the Morton's house that weekend.

Even if the family tried to act like everything was spontaneous, Frank knew it wasn't. Fenton and Laura were planning the things they exposed Joe to as precisely as possible, making sure they didn't run into anyone who might upset him or take him somewhere he might have had bad experiences with in the past.

Joe's sudden desire to destroy his gravestone came as a surprise. Frank guessed his parents had not even wanted to think about what they were meant to do with it.

"I think we should smash it," Joe said in answer to Fenton's question.

"A bold move," Laura remarked. "Can I ask why?"

Joe shrugged before saying it felt like the right thing to do.

"That's what they do with old gravestones too. I looked it up."

"They get professionals to smash it," Fenton pointed out.

Frank's brow furrowed. He couldn't see any real reason to be opposed to Joe's idea provided they did it in the right way. If they got a company to remove the stone and got it delivered to their house, it might actually be therapeutic. Joe looked at Fenton.

"Smashing something up isn't hard."

"It can be dangerous. We don't want any… Accidents."

"Why did you say it like that?" Joe asked.

Frank had picked up on it too and felt a ball of nerves forming in his stomach. He knew exactly why his father had left such a pause. He glanced toward Laura, hoping she was aware of the situation that was about to form, that she would help him run interference. She met his eye, silently agreeing to follow his lead.

"I am just saying I don't think it would be safe. The tools required to break up stone like that would be-" Fenton said, trying to keep his voice level.

"I can take care of myself," Joe snapped. "Only it's not me you're worried about, are you? You're worried I'll take a swing at Frank."

Frank noticed he didn't raise his voice. In fact, it seemed like Joe was trying to restrain his emotions the best he could. It took Frank a moment to realise why. Because he knew Joe had no issue showing his anger. He had been on the receiving end of Joe's anger and it left bruises.

But Joe didn't want Fenton to realise just how hurt and upset he was. He didn't want to act out in front of Fenton. Frank could remember Joe snapping at Marsden, getting dragged around a kitchen by his hair for it. He was used to anger being met with violence from adults.

"No one is getting hurt," Frank said.

He looked between Fenton and Joe but hoped the blond teenager really took his words to heart.

"I think you both need to go and calm down," Laura said, firmly.

She looked pointedly toward Fenton. He nodded, putting down his case notes. Frank watched him, praying he was going to calmly leave the room. If he even pulled the door shut too fast, he could leave Joe convinced he was going to react violently if things got too heated between them.

But Fenton moved out of the sitting room and into the hallway. A few moments later, Frank heard the backdoor opening and closing. The moment they heard the door close, Joe was on his feet, asking where he was meant to go. Laura told him he could go and stay in his room just until he had calmed down. Joe glanced toward Frank but nodded.

"Joe, he didn't mean to upset you," Laura said. "We're all still new at this. Just give us some time to talk about it and we'll work out the best thing to do about the grave."

Frank knew his parents were going to have a long talk about what had happened when both he and Joe were asleep but Frank knew he needed to talk to his father first. After all, Frank's time in New York with Joe meant that he had known the teenager for the longest.

He just wanted to compare notes with Fenton, give him someone to talk through the situation with so they knew everyone was on the same page.

Fenton was sitting at an old bench at the bottom of the garden. He looked over as Frank approached.

"How's Joe?"

Frank wished he could have shown Joe that moment, let him know that the first thing Fenton had wanted to know was if he was okay. But he knew that wouldn't work. Joe would suspect it was staged, that it had been put on to help lure him in.

"He's upstairs, calming down. I think Mom's going to go and check on him soon."

Fenton nodded and apologised, saying he hadn't wanted to ruin the evening. He had just been cautious over the idea of giving Joe a sledgehammer and letting him loose on everything.

"You know you had bruises when you came back from New York? Bruises you said Joe caused," Fenton said.

"Yes. But he is never going to learn that is not the way life works if we don't stop expecting violence from him," Frank replied. "He thinks if he gets angry with you, you're going to hit him. Imagine what he thinks you'll do to him if he attacks someone. Joe is not going to hurt me. He isn't going to hurt anyone."

"I know. I know," Fenton said. "I'm not… I don't even think I was really worried about that. I think… That grave was a full stop. I was tearing myself to pieces looking for even the smallest hint as to what might have happened to your brother. That grave was the line we all drew saying that it was over, that we had to start letting go of that pain and allowing ourselves to grieve properly. It was healthy. It was what we needed to do."

He shook his head.

"Now that grave feels like a get-out-of-jail-free card. It feels like an excuse I made so I didn't have to search. And all that time, Joe was suffering. Imagine the things he's lived through since we 'buried' him. Imagine the things he's seen. He has nightmares. We hear him. He denies it when we go in to check on him so we can't… How many of those nightmares exist because I gave up? I can't see that grave, can't see Joe near that grave, without realising that I screwed up. I failed him as a detective and as a father."

Frank shook his head.

"You didn't fail him. You did the best you could with what you had. And you loved him. All those years no one ever doubted it. But I think, even if you can't be there when he smashes up the grave, you should let Joe do it. We needed that grave. He needs to be the one to smash it."

Frank tried to make sure he was the first person up the next morning. He waited by his bedroom door, listening out to be sure he could intercept if Fenton and Joe were about to collide in the corridor. But Joe left his room without incident and when Frank heard his parent's bedroom door open, he glanced out. Laura was emerging. She caught her son's eye as she moved toward the corridor.

"Have you seen your father?" she asked.

She glanced into Joe's room, frowning as she saw he was not there.

"And where's Joe?"

Frank opened his mouth, feeling panic grip him. The last thing they needed was for things to escalate.

"We should go to find them," Laura said.

Suddenly there was a loud clatter from downstairs. Laura and Frank turned sharply to each other. Then they raced to the stairs.

There was no sign of Fenton or Joe as Frank and Laura reached the ground floor. They looked about urgently, terrified they were going to find the two in the middle of a shouting match, the shattered remains of something precious lying about their feet.

So full of adrenaline, it took Frank a few moments to realise that there was no shouting. In fact, he could actually hear muffled laughter. It took him a moment to work out where it was coming from. Outside.

He sprung toward the front door, throwing it open. There was indeed something lying shattered between Fenton and Joe. It was a battered old microwave, clearly just having been dropped. And there was metal and other old appliances lying around it. Joe's hands were empty, making Frank think he might have been the one to drop the load, whereas Fenton was weighed down with a box of random old junk - chipped plates, a strange wooden sculpture that seemed to be breaking apart, a set of tin cans.

"I told you you wouldn't be able to manage all that," Fenton said through his laughter.

Joe was chuckling like wild too, looking absurd as he stood barefoot in pyjamas with a coat on to stave off the cold of a Bayport winter.

"Fenton Thomas Hardy!" Laura roared. "Are you serious right now?"

Frank couldn't help but grin at Joe as fresh laughter came. Soon Frank was laughing too. He noticed that there was a jeep parked on their driveway. It looked familiar. Frank was sure it belonged to one of his father's many friends. And it was loaded up with junk like the owner had gone around town collecting up all the scrap he could.

Before Frank could take a step forward, he felt his mother catch his arm.

"Oh no, you don't. There's glass all over the driveway and you are not wearing any shoes!"

Frank could see that the screen in the door of the microwave had shattered. Joe frowned as he looked down, laughter stopping as he realised his own bare feet suddenly put him at risk. He seemed to be trying to plot a safe course around the glass when Fenton put the box down in the trunk.

"Come on," he said, approaching him. "Let's get you back to your mother."

With a smirk, Fenton held out his hands. Joe arched an eyebrow in confusion. Frank could see the detective was torn. Frank knew, if it had been him, his father would have had no qualms about unceremoniously lifting him up and carrying him across the glass, protected by the heavy-duty boots he was wearing. But he was hesitant when it came to his youngest. After all, they had no idea if Joe was used to physical affection. The last thing they wanted was for Joe to panic when Fenton picked him up and squirm free directly onto the glass.

Joe paused before nodding. He let Fenton scoop him up, holding him in a bridal carry. Joe frowned, taking a moment to acclimatise himself to being held. Once sure Joe was comfortable and secure, Fenton strode across the glass.

"Sorry I didn't warn you," Fenton said, looking at Laura. "It was an idea I had late last night."

"And what exactly is this idea?" Laura asked, arms folded.

"Well, Joe wants to smash up the gravestone and I was thinking, we should have a bit of a smash session. This is all junk people don't want. I thought it would be a fun activity for us to get some energy out."

"You want us to smash all this stuff up?" Frank asked.

He eyed the vehicle. There were some old chairs, a battered old bench, a washing machine… He could help but be excited at the prospect. And Fenton had been true to his word. Frank could see the gravestone in the back.

"If we are going to do this," Laura said, "we are going to need to pick up some safety clothes. What shoes did you bring, Joe?"

"How about you sort out the safety gear and I'll get everything set up?"

The Hardy garden was full of laughter and the percussion of sledgehammers slamming into random appliances. Each Hardy was dressed heavily in protective gear, wearing goggles and steel-toe capped boots. Battered items lay around them. The gravestone was lying down, broken into multiple pieces.

"We've not got much left," Fenton remarked. "Joe, want to help me get this bench down?"

Joe nodded. He hopped up onto the truck, struggling with the large gloves he was wearing. He stopped, studying the bench.

"Are we really going to smash it up?" Joe asked.

Fenton paused, asking what Joe was thinking. Frank scrambled nimbly up onto the jeep to join Joe. He stared at the bench. There were a few broken slats in places but the metal frame that held it together was in good shape. Frank walked over, probing at it with his foot.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"One of the cops had it in his garden. He'd got a replacement and was going to throw it out," Fenton explained.

Laura moved over, removing her goggles.

"What are you thinking, boys?"

"You guys still own the land my grave was on, right?"

The next day, Fenton, Frank and Joe were in the garden once more. Laura did a few jobs around the house, wanting to give the boys a chance to be alone with their father. She kept her ear out though, prepared to intervene if she heard tempers flaring.

But hours passed and she only ever saw the boys when they came in to get drinks. Each refused to give her any information about what their secret project was. They said they wanted her to come out and see it when they were done, enjoy the surprise.

"Are you sure there's nothing you can tell me?" Laura asked when Fenton came in to get snacks.

"I can tell you our boys are working very well together."

"You're painting something," Laura observed.

Fenton nodded.

"You're going to love it, Laura," he promised her. "You are going to be so proud."

"I'm already so proud."

It was an hour after that that Frank and Joe appeared at the back door, all wide smiles. There was a large smear of paint down Frank's cheek, speckles of paint dotted Joe's hair. Laura grinned at them both.

"What have you two boys been up to?" she asked.

"Come and see," Joe offered, pushing open the door. "Dad's already calling up the cemetery groundskeeper."

"The groundskeeper?" Laura questioned as she emerged out into the garden.

She gasped as she saw what they had been working on.

The bench was set out by the fence, the broken slats replaced, a fresh covering of blue paint making it look brand new. Joe and Frank hurried over to it, telling her how they were thinking that the bench could be put where Joe's grave had been. As they reached the bench, Joe grinned at Frank, twisted him around and shoved him toward the bench. Frank dropped onto it, gasping. As he stood, there were lines of blue paint across his back and legs.

"Joe!" Frank spluttered.

He hooked his leg around Joe's, trying to trip him onto the bench.

"Boys!" Laura sighed. "I thought you were telling me about your amazing work."

"We just wanted to make something good out of that place," Frank told her.

Laura grinned, turning to the two of them.

"You definitely did that," Laura smiled.

She wrapped her arms around the boys, pulling them into a hug. Frank tried to squirm away, warning his mother about the paint on his back. Laura pressed a kiss to each boy's temple before pushing Joe back.

He stumbled, tripping before landing on the bench, paint splattering up his legs and back.

"Seriously?" Joe laughed.

I hope you enjoyed! The chapter I have planned for next week is intended to have a bit more action in.