Chapter 31

Fenton desperately wanted to ride with one of his sons in an ambulance, but Con was literally dragging him towards one of the squad cars, which was far more powerful than his own car. The difference in the strength between the two men was very evident as Fenton was arguing and struggling with his friend the entire way, but Con was making easy meat of him and he soon found himself flat out and face down on the rear passenger seat with the door being squarely slammed shut – and then of course, it couldn't be opened from the inside.

"Con, let me out!" Fenton screamed, throwing himself against the door in earnest and then, when that didn't work, turning himself so he was kicking it instead.

"No can do, buddy," Con said and jumped into the front to gun the engine. He sent the cruiser into a wheel spin in reverse and slewed a 180-degree skid-turn.

"I need to get you…" Con started to explain, then stopped because he couldn't see his friend in the mirror anymore. "Where have you gone?" He frowned deeply and twisted around in his seat in surprise to find an empty back seat. "How did you get out the car?" he asked in amazement, eyes now scanning the parking lot for a fleeing figure. Then he detected the sound of Fenton swearing under his breath from down below, so lifted himself up slightly and finally saw where Fenton was through the mesh. Obviously he'd taken a tumble into the footwell when Con had turned the car.

Con rolled his eyes and turned back to start driving and continue his explanation. "I need to get you out of here. I don't want those thugs coming back to take their pound of flesh, so I'm splitting you three up. The boys are being transported separately over to the hospital in Gresham for safety's sake, so I'm taking you there. We'll probably arrive before them anyway, so you might as well sit back and enjoy the ride Flash, cause I'm not letting you out any time soon!"

"Damn it, Con!" Fenton roared, bobbing back up all at once and smacking the impeding mesh hard with his palms, making Con jump and swerve the car.

"Damn it yourself, buddy," Con bawled back in return. "I'm just doing my job!" Then he grinned inexplicably into the rear view mirror, finding something suddenly amusing.

Fenton glared murderously at his friend's reflection before giving the mesh one final punch, so solidly that the impetus threw him back into the seat. He grunted, pursed his lips, and finally turned his face away…which only resulted in making Lieutenant Con Riley laugh even more. "Do you know how much you're like Joe when you act like that?" he asked.

"I feel like Joe at this moment…" Fenton muttered quietly and crossed his arms crossly. He began swinging his heel back against the base of the seat repeatedly, making an ceaseless dull thumping noise.

"This is just like when we were kids," Con observed. "You couldn't control yourself then either. I wasn't moved then, and I'm not moved now."

"I just want to be with my boys," Fenton argued, not at all similarly entertained by his friend's musings.

"I know you do, Fen, but trust me, it won't be for long so put that fire out! You can break my nose later." And then he kinda regretted making that last statement because he knew that Fenton Hardy was more than capable of doing just that – and Fenton's head had slowly turned to him with a dark smile that didn't show any teeth.

They did indeed arrive before the ambulances and there were medical personnel already on standby and a doctor waiting to talk to Fenton as soon as he stepped from the car – now that Con had finally let him out…after he promised numerous times that he wouldn't actually try doing Con's face any damage.

"Mr Hardy?" the doctor asked and offered her hand out. "I'm Dr Cox. I want to talk to you about your son, Frank."

"Hello," Fenton said and accepted the proffered shake, feeling the woman's other hand take him by the elbow before drawing him inside the building and towards the waiting room without actually letting go. They veered towards a line of offices. "Is someone going to be seeing to Joe, my other son?"

"Yes, but he's a known quantity, we've already spoken to Dr Lyndsey over at Bayport and he's on his way over here to see to Joe himself." Dr Cox lowered her voice conspiratorially, "Between you and me, he's not very happy with Joe." She stopped and opened the door to one of the offices. "But I really want to talk to you about Frank." She ushered Fenton inside and gestured to a seat, but Fenton stayed standing. "Tell me what's been going on with him," she requested and started automatically making Fenton a cup of coffee, noting her visitor's twitchiness.

"What do you want to know?"

"Just what's been going on recently? I've spoken already with the paramedics by radio and it seems he's going to be a bit of a challenge when he gets here and I need to know what to expect so I can treat him appropriately. I need a bit of a history, the paramedics told me a colorful tale and not one I'm sure I believe!"

"It's a long story," Fenton warned. "And probably more colorful than the story you've already been told."

"That's okay, I've got the time."

So Fenton took a deep breath and launched into the whole thing, as far as he knew it, and Dr Cox handed him the coffee and managed to somehow get him to sit. And then Dr Cox sat across from him and nodded encouragingly, lacing her fingers together and leaning her elbows on the desk.

At the end of the story, she sat back and blew air out through her teeth, making a high-pitched whistling sound. "Well, the paramedics weren't exaggerating with their story! When you say Frank 'shut down', describe it."

Fenton was studying his cup, tracing the pattern on the side with his finger. "Frank was talking quite coherently one second, and then Nancy, Frank's girlfriend…"

"His girlfriend…?"

"Yes, at least, I assume that from the way they were acting. They certainly weren't an item before all of this. Anyway, she left to do something he'd asked her to complete, and Con – one of the cops, but a good friend – called out from the bottom of the stairs about Joe…"

"What did he call out…?"

"That Joe should 'lie still' as he was starting to bleed quite badly. And then Frank was suddenly getting agitated and not making much sense, his speech winding down…"

"Winding down…?"

"Yes, like one of those wind-up toys slowly losing its power and needing someone to turn the key, and then I wasn't getting anything out of him anymore." Fenton sighed, "My wife is going to be so angry with me when she gets home. She's on a cruise at the moment."

"Why do think she'd be angry with you? Surely none of this was your fault, or don't you see it that way?"

"Because I should have been keeping a closer eye on them."

"Do you often feel guilty when your sons get into situations outside of your control?"

"Well, I am the boys' father."

Dr Cox was hemming and hawing and studying Fenton's face quite intensely, to the point where Fenton started to feel uncomfortable under her close scrutiny. He finally took an interest in his surroundings and realised that the room was more like a sitting room, with a desk that just happened to be in the corner and a large leather recliner sofa along one wall with an easy chair pulled up next to it. There was a squat table close by with a box of tissues on top. He began to feel like he was being slowly unwrapped. "Why am I telling this?" he suddenly asked. "You're a complete stranger!"

"It's my job, Mr Hardy." Dr Cox said, "getting people to open up and tell me things that they wouldn't ordinarily tell other people. I'm a psychiatrist."

Fenton gaped at her. "A psychiatrist? Frank doesn't need a psychiatrist, and neither to I!"

"Mr Hardy, would that be so bad? But I'm inclined to agree with you on both counts as I've a theory as to what's happening with your son."

Fenton was annoyed and felt duped. "I wish I did. Care to share – in a language someone like me can understand?" he asked, setting the cup down on the desk and folding his arms tightly across his chest.

"Of course," Dr Cox said. "Imagine your son's brain is like a computer system that's becoming overloaded - too much software being uploaded all at once. It'll quite happily take information in for a while, but eventually, it'll reach saturation point trying to store it all, especially if there isn't time to process it. Eventually it's going to crash and burn. Once that's happened, like a computer, it has to be rebooted. That's what I think is happening to Frank, he's rebooting himself, turning his switches on and off. From what you've described, he's had to cope with an unnatural and amazing amount of information and many diverse emotions over a period of some months, and he's become weighed down. He held on for as long as he felt he needed to, and then shorted-circuited. It's a protection mechanism."

Fenton was listening closely. "I see. So how long will his 'reboot' take?"

Dr Cox raised her palms up. "He could snap out of it in the next few hours, or it could take days. It's really up to him. Call it being in a sort of coma or deep sleep if that makes it seem any less frightening, because that'll be how it appears. The paramedics have reported that he suffered some blows to the head?"

"That's right."

"In that case, just to be sure it's nothing more serious, we'll run him through an MRI scan, but I'm pretty confident we've isolated the problem. It's pretty unusual, but not unheard of. I'd recommend some therapy to help him with his recovery afterwards, as he'll experience some pretty intense feelings. How does he cope with his emotions?"

"He doesn't – doesn't need to," Fenton said. "Frank's not an emotional person, he's pretty self-contained. He's like the opposite of Joe, but then Joe had his own problems to overcome when…I'm doing it again! Why do I keep on telling you stuff?"

The doctor laughed. "It's a gift. Our professions are not so dissimilar, we both get people to talk and make admittances!"

Fenton leaned forward and rubbed his face. "You don't realise how much weight you lifted off me, Dr Cox," he said.

"No problem, Mr Hardy. Now let me take you to your sons and I can have a look at Frank for you." She lifted herself from her seat to escort Fenton out and then paused in the doorway thoughtfully with her hand on the handle. "I'm doing a paper on sibling relationships, do you think your extraordinary sons would permit me to do a study on them?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, doctor!" Fenton said, raising an eyebrow as a mock warning. Dr Cox opened the door and Fenton found Con loitering. "Are my boys here?" he asked Con, feeling much more in control and calmer.

"Joe's just coming in now," Con said as the sound of Joe's gurney was heard coming through the double doors.

Fenton moved quickly towards the noise and was in time to see Joe being wheeled into a curtained area. This time he was firmer with the medical staff than he had been when Joe had been shot all those days ago and pushed his way to the front. "Joe?" he asked, dipping down to look into his face and take his hand. "I'm here, it's Dad. You okay, sport?"

Joe focused, grinned stupidly and lifted his mask. "Just dandy, dude - loads of drugs. Drugs are good, man!"

Fenton laughed. "Are you OD-ing, son?"

"I think I just might be…" Joe blinked hard; trying to centre his attention and squeezed his father's hand hard, frightened he'd leave before he could get his question out. He gradually forced himself to zone into the real world again and see through his anaesthetized head-fog. "What's happening with the Frankster?" he finally asked, coherently, his eyes now serious.

"They're having a look at him now, but he's going to be fine. Just worry about yourself and concentrate on getting better."

"I'm not stupid dad, I've been listening to people talking." Joe said and let go of his hand. "Go to him," he instructed and then the window of focused thought slammed shut again. "Make them give Frank some of the sweet stuff I've had, dad, it's a party in your brain!"

Fenton laughed again. "No need Joe, Frank's hosting his own party." Fenton was pretty sure Joe hadn't really taken in a word he'd said and probably wouldn't remember their exchange the next day. He was high as a kite! He left the medical staff to it and left the cubicle to find his other son.

Con was still waiting, holding a conversation with someone on his cell-phone. He pointed towards one of the other cubicles to indicate to Fenton where Frank was and carried on talking. As Fenton passed, Con suddenly lurched forward and pulled him up short.

"Fen, I've got to go – trouble!"

"What sort of trouble?"

"Nancy sort of trouble, at Vanessa's place, those Network people. I'll see you later," he said and quickly left.

Fenton frowned after Con, but didn't go after him. Instead he walked around the hospital staff who were loitering in a tight knot outside of Frank's cubicle and pulled back the curtain to find Dr Cox alone and leaning over his son. "Frank, I'm Dr Cox. Can you hear me?" she asked in a loud voice and brought her hands together into a resounding clap in front of his face.

Fenton made his presence known by quietly coughing.

Dr Cox immediately turned to him. "Mr Hardy, see if you can get a reaction, I'm not getting anything."

"Erm…okay," Fenton said. He walked to Frank's side and touched his shoulder. "Hey Frank, you with me?" he asked. Nothing.

"Get annoyed with him."

"What?"

"Get angry. Show him who's boss. Shout at him if you need to."

"Is this really necessary?"

"I know this is hard, but you have to make him listen to you so I can watch his reaction."

Fenton glared at the doctor, resenting what he was being made to do. He turned back to his son, leaned right over his face and yelled: "Goddammit Frank, enough with the attitude – look at me when I'm talking to you, boy! It's important!"

A whole ward full of people went silent at the sound of Fenton's bellowed instruction, but it was worth the embarrassment because Frank's eyes slid and locked on, and for just the merest instant there was awareness and a real connection between the two of them. Fenton was amazed that it had worked.

"Good! That's just what I wanted to see!" Dr Cox said and patted Fenton on the shoulder.

"Whoa! You go, Dad! Get mad at him. Works every time!!" Joe shouted out from his bed, making everyone laugh and dissipating the atmosphere.

"I'd really like your boys to partake in my study," Dr Cox said dreamily and smiled. "Anyway, as I suspected, Frank is having a clear out. After his other injuries are seen to, I'll have a room allocated in a quieter part of the hospital."

"Please don't say in the psych ward!" Fenton begged, his gaze not straying from his son's face. He knew he wasn't Frank's focal point any longer, but it was great just to have him at least looking in his direction.

"Oh no, that's not necessary."

And then Fenton realised that he'd been wrong in assuming Frank had retreated because he suddenly surprised both Fenton and the Doctor by asking, "What gives?" and laying his hand against his father's arm.

Understanding the question, Fenton answered him. "Everyone's safe Frank, Nancy's doing what you asked and she's got the big-guns with her, so do what you have to do, I'll hold the fort now. Your jobs finished, son."

"Okay." And so Frank laid his arm back down, his eyelids dropped, and he went thousands of miles away to do what he had to do.

"Very, very well done, Mr Hardy!" Dr Cox said, with no small amount of admiration.