CH 19 – RECOVERY METHOD

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"You sonofabitch!" Don glared at Maxwell, who was in handcuffs sitting on the floor next to Hardy. "You sneaky, stupid, idiotic little traitor! Did you think you could get away with it forever?"

Maxwell smirked. "Well, you people are pretty stupid…"

Don lunged for Maxwell, and it took both Megan and David to restrain him from hitting the double agent. At that moment, his cell phone rang, and Don jerked it off his waistband and flipped it open. "Eppes!". He barked, still glaring at Maxwell.

Jason's angry voice floated over the speakerphone. "I'm still hearing a lot of activity up there, Eppes. I gave you your traitor – you said you'd clear the place! I'm getting impatient. You don't want to know what happens when I get impatient. Isn't that right, Frank?"

Even over the phone, Don could tell he was smirking. "Tell you what – I clear the place when you let Frank go."

"Hell no," Jason said. "That would be too easy for you, Eppes. Besides, a promise is a promise. You want me to sue the Bureau? Just remember, you people don't want to see me impatient." Just before he hung up again, Jason laughed out loud. "And that's a promise."

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Frank stared up at Jason glumly, watching him disconnect the phone, and summoning all the defiance he could muster. Taking a risk, he sat up. He had seen the window flip open, and was hoping he hadn't passed out and missed Jason calling in another one of his men to help him "handle" Frank.

"Frank…," Jason said, interrupting his thoughts, "you better pray Don gets me what I want, because it ain't gonna be a pretty day for you if he doesn't." He swore and Frank winced. "This basement gives me the creeps… Be better if a fuckin' dead person wasn't here already."

Frank's mouth dropped open in shock. "Dead person?" he whispered quietly, and Jason crossed his arms over his chest, kicking at Frank again.

"Shut-up", he growled, his gun dangling loosely in one hand. Frank was staring at it, trying to determine how he could find the strength to go after it, when in the background behind Jason he saw a skinny pair of jean-clad legs drop through the window. For a frozen moment, he was sure he had finally gone crazy – there was a patch on the knee of those jeans that reminded him of a pair he had tried to throw out just a few months ago. Joe, having outgrown most of his own clothes, had rescued them from the trash and wore them proudly. He continued to stare in shock as the legs were followed by a tow head in desperate need of a haircut. His eyes widened when he recognized his brother, and he moved quickly to cover up his discovery. The last thing he wanted was Jason turning around and seeing Joe!

He started coughing violently and scooting backwards toward the far corner of the basement. He had seen a shovel leaning there earlier, and now he remembered what Jason had said about someone dead being in there with them. Was somebody buried over there?

Jason lunged toward him, leaning over slightly to grab at him with one hand, waving the gun around with the other. "Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going? "

Frank groaned in legitimate terror when he saw Oswald drop through the window after Joe. What in the world had Oswald talked Joe into doing? He coughed again, making as much noise as he could and leaning away from Jason's hand. "Don't. Please!", he cried, as loudly as he could. "Please don't hurt me anymore!"

To his surprise, Jason pulled his face back out of his and spoke a little nervously. "Maybe I should kill you anyway," he mused. "Before Eppes hears your story. He's pissed off enough as it is…I can't risk him hearing about our little games before I'm safely away…"

"I won-, won- won't tell!", Frank stuttered. He purposely did not move his eyes from Jason's, desperate not to give him any reason to turn around. Still, with his peripheral vision he saw Joe launch himself through the air as if he was Spiderman, or something. Frank screamed in fear so sharply that Jason, startled, reached out his hand again to clamp it over the kid's mouth.

The last thing the goon was expecting was for something to land on his back with a solid thump, knocking the gun out of his hand and burying hands in his hair, pulling his head backwards. The gun flew behind the stairs and Jason whirled and tried to reach behind his back, grunting with surprise.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM," shouted Frank and Joe at the same time, as if they had rehearsed. 'DON'T TOUCH MY BROTHER!"

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Jason careened into the nearest wall, fighting desperately to knock Joe off his back. He slammed into the bricks and Joe's hold loosened. Jason growled as yet another body moved in a blur past him, and he tried to grab Oswald while he was still trying to shake Joe off. By this time, Frank had managed to crawl the few feet that separated him from the madman and his brother, and he began to claw at his feet and ankles, putting more force behind his assault than he would have imagined possible. Jason roared and kicked out against the newest impediment, still banging his shoulders into the wall. One of his flying hands finally caught ahold of Joe's shirt, and he fisted the material and dragged, triumphant.

Just before Joe flew off and landed in a heap on top of his brother, Oswald yelled loudly. "Hey!", he called, and Jason automatically turned his head toward the sound. It turned out to be the last thing he heard for a long time, when Oswald buried the old shovel between his eyes.

Joe had seen the mighty Jason falling toward them, and he managed to roll Frank so that they were nearly out of the way. Each boy ended up with one foot under the gunman. Joe tugged at his while he tightened his grip around a speechless Frank. "Nice hit," be breathed, moving one hand to grip his brother's face. "Frank? Frankie? Come on, bro, you're okay. You're okay."

His voice was sounding a little desperate, and Oswald was having some difficulty looking away from the pool of blood forming around Jason's head. Frank suddenly gasped in a huge hit of oxygen and focused on Joe's frantic face. "J- J- Joe," he sobbed, the single syllable echoing heartbreak and fear in the dank basement.

Joe smiled and began to rock his brother slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, Frank. We're good. We're good."

Oswald kicked tentatively at Jason, who didn't make a sound. Then he gingerly stepped over him, glancing down at the Hardys. "Nice to see ya there, Frank," he huffed, snaking a long arm around the stairs and feeling for the gun he had seen go flying earlier. He grunted with the effort of reaching the weapon. "Miss…uhhh…missed you…" Finally, his fingertips hooked the gun, and Oswald was careful not to firmly grip it. He hadn't been hanging around the FBI office all this time and picked up nothing about forensic evidence, and he didn't want to compromise the fingerprints. Carefully he laid it on the basement floor behind Joe, well out of Jason's reach, should he suddenly regain consciousness. "Watch that for me," he instructed the brothers. "I think I'll head on up and get Don."

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Oswald was pretty proud of himself as he took the stairs two-at-a-time. He had knocked out the perp, secured the weapon…he was pretty sure he remembered to do all the important stuff. At the top of the stairs, he happily swung open the door leading to the kitchen and thought of one last thing.

As he yelped, "Don't shoot!", and raised his hands in the air, Oswald decided, staring down the barrel of a Bureau shotgun, that he probably should have let Don know he was coming.