First chapter.
Partheois: Part 1
Memories of the Past
CHAPTER 1:
Joe
He was running deeper and deeper into the woods.
His side hurts; he knew he was hit and was losing blood, but he dared not stop. Frank was right about the assassin after him. He plowed into a tree. For a short moment, he leaned heavily against the rough and gnarled trunk. He spared a brief thought for his brother, whom he had not seen since he got shot. It was a stroke of luck that he caught the glimpse of the shadow and moved. Otherwise that first shot would have been fatal. Of that he had no doubt. He hoped Frank had managed to escape and had gone for help. Joe gritted his teeth and made himself move on. He had to hang on till help arrives.
Frank would come back for him, Joe repeated the mantra to himself and he concentrated on placing one foot before the next. He just had to keep moving and hiding. He could do it. He was an expert at hiding and sneaking around. Frank could attest to that. Even his big brother …
Another wave of pain swept through him.
Joe gritted his teeth and willed away the pain. He could do it. And Frank would come back for him. His big brother never failed to come back for him.
But he could not. He lost too much blood. Slowly he sank onto the ground next to the tree.
A shadow loomed over him.
He lifted his head. It cost him, but he did it anyway. If he were to die, he wanted to know who killed him.
Not that he believed in vengeful ghosts and such. But it was just his personality. He hated loose ends and unknowns. That was why he had always wanted to become an investigator, just like his father. His father, Fenton Hardy, was a well-known and respected private investigator.
Yes, he had always wanted to become an investigator, to solve mysteries, and to help people. And he was on the way there, until fate intervened. It screwed up his childhood dreams big time.
So he forced himself to look up. His death would not be a mystery to him.
His heart lifted.
"Frank! You're alright! Did you managed to get help? Am I glad to see… you…"
His already raspy voice tapered off when he realized his big brother was not responding the way he should.
His relief in seeing Frank before him quickly turned to fear, then to resignation when 'Frank' aimed a gun at him. He smiled bitterly. He should have known. He suspected, but had put those suspicions aside because he wanted so much to have his brother back with him… alive.
Frank died almost two years ago. And he had failed to prevent it.
"So you were a plant after all…" He gasped out conversationally.
'Frank' did not respond but merely flicked off the safety catch of his gun.
"You managed to win my trust. That was remarkable work on your part. But tell me, how did you know so much about us?" He asked.
He was curious. That exact image of his brother before him had known things about them that no one should know. Things that were talked about but never recorded in any form, not even in their diaries.
"I know, because I am Frank." The image said in a flat tone.
That shook him. He stared at the image of his brother standing over him, with a gun pointed at his heart.
No! It could not be! He refused to believe that. Frank would never willingly hurt him. Never.
Then he smiled inwardly. They were playing games with him; that must be it. And vicious, that game was. They knew exactly what would hurt him most.
He knew they would send someone after him eventually. He had been too successful in sieving out their operations and shutting them down. Many had thought that he would not be able to make it on his own after Frank was killed. Frank was the smarter and the more methodological one. That was all true, and he had depended a lot on Frank's skills to crack cases and to pull him out of trouble.
Frank could always find the needle in a haystack. But he, he could spot the needle in a field of hay. Then he let Frank proved to the world that that was the needle.
And that was why he could find them, when no one else could.
"Right." His tone was clearly disbelieving.
"You have been unexpectedly successful in tracking down their operations. They sent me to gain your trust, then to kill you, baby bro…"
Baby bro… no… Only Frank called him that.
"They said to make sure you knew… to make sure you hurt… to make sure I knew you hurt…"
No… he refused to believe that…
"And then kill you."
The person before him could not be Frank…
"If you were Frank, why would you want to kill me? We are brothers, remember?"
"Yes, we are. But you are holding me back. I could have been more, and I stayed in this tiny Bayport town because you wouldn't let me go."
"I never held you back, Frank… You chose to stay in Bayport." He gritted out.
"And then remember the reason for killing you…"
"And what was the reason for killing me?" He had to ask.
"So you can no longer hold me back from my full potential, so I can truly join them and be part of them…"
He could see the fingers tightened on the trigger. He closed his eyes and heard the shot as if it was coming from a distance. No, he heard two shots.
He felt the agony burn through him, and he screamed as the pain hits his conscious mind. He screamed from the pain of his physical wound. He hurts from the agony of the knowledge of who shot him, from all those hurtful words. He screamed as the darkness rises from somewhere deep within to claim him…
…
And he woke up in cold sweat from his nightmare. He could feel the beads of perspiration dotting his brow and rolling down his back. He struggled to bring his gasping breath under control.
He hated that dream.
Except it wasn't a dream. It happened. It happened almost six months ago. Yet every night he dreamed and the whole thing was like it happened yesterday. He could not forget Frank's expression when he fired that shot. He could still feel the fiery pain from his two bullet wounds inflicted by his brother. More hurtful was the memories of all the words Frank used to gain his trust six months ago, only to turn on him and then tried to kill him. He had trusted Frank till the very end, until when he watched his brother lifted the gun onto him. Even then he refused to believe, not until that shot was fired and he felt the bullet tore through his shoulder blades.
Actually, he refused to really believe that the person who shot him was his brother, preferring to hang on to the belief that it was a clone that was sent to kill him.
Then his dad showed him the results of the DNA test and dashed that hope. That betrayal ripped a wound in his heart so deep, he wasn't sure if it could ever heal. He buried his face in his hands and let his tears flow.
A warm wet towel appeared before him as he lifted his head from his hands, tired from his own crying. He turned to see Vanessa watching him, concern reflected from the bluish-grey depths of her eyes. He took the towel gratefully from her hands and wiped his own tears away.
"Thanks, Van," he murmured.
Vanessa nodded, but Joe could see her fears for him which she failed to hide.
"You need to rest, Joe. You cannot continue to drive yourself like that. And Frank needs you…" she started.
Joe turned away from her, not wanting to let her see the guilt in his eyes. It happened because he failed his brother, he acknowledged. He should never have so easily believed that his brother was dead two and a half years ago. But he did and they took Frank away and turned him. And then they sent Frank after him.
"You did everything you could back then, darling," Vanessa reminded him.
"But not enough," Joe answered bitterly.
"Oh Joe, you're only human, as is Frank." Vanessa whispered softly as she enfolds her love in her warm embrace. "You'll have to learn to forgive yourself, as Frank has to learn to forgive himself…"
"Go back to sleep, Van," Joe interrupted curtly.
He did not want to have that talk at the moment. Later perhaps, when the wounds were not so open or so raw…
Yeah, right, it's been six months, Joe admitted honestly to himself. How much longer do you want to hide? He sneered at his own cowardice.
But he wasn't exactly doing nothing about the current situation. He was working on the solution. And he had to, for Frank's sake, he had to find the enemy and break them. He had to break them totally, or Frank would never be free, ever.
"Joe…"
That was Vanessa. She sounded hesitant. Joe felt another stab of guilt cutting through him. He had been so obsessed with what happened to Frank, he dragged Vanessa into his obsession.
He turned to face her, let his hands touched her face, traced her features. He stared into her haunted, worried eyes, and accepted his good fortune in finding a woman like her. She stood by him during those two years when he thought Frank was dead. And six months ago…
Joe ruthless shut off that line of thought. He was not ready to face his brother. Instead, he channeled all his focus onto the woman before him. The love of his life, the one person he could not live without.
"Have I ever told you how fortunate I was to have you? I thank God everyday for giving me the most wonderful woman in this world to be my girlfriend," he said to her.
He watched her lips slowly curved into a smile.
"And you, you are the most wonderful, loyal, and caring boyfriend any girl would want. I understand what you need to do, darling, and I want you to know I will wait for as long as it takes."
Joe smiled back at her.
"I won't let you wait too long, I promised."
He gently pushed her back onto the bed and tucked her in.
"It's still early. You should get some more sleep," Joe held his fingers to her lips to silence her when she wanted to protest. "I can't sleep now, no point having two sleepyheads about. I'll need you to take care of me later when I collapse, okay?"
Vanessa shook her head in mocked anger, "why do I ever bother when you don't seem to want to take care of yourself?"
"Because I know you'll always be there to catch me when I fall?" Joe replied with a smile.
Van laughed softly, and then added in a more serious tone. "Joe, you can do everything you can to bring those criminals to justice, but at the end of the day, the only way to heal that hurt in your soul is to make peace with yourself and with Frank…"
"I know that, Van, I know. And I promise you I will…" Joe said. Eventually, he added quietly for himself.
Vanessa looked unconvinced. He couldn't blame her when he was still trying to convince himself. Nevertheless, she turned onto her side and tried to go back to sleep. He watched her till her breathing even out before heading into the bathroom to freshen up. Then he headed to his work table and started to go through his notes on his brother's case. And over the next hour he worked and plotted and planned.
At half past six, he readied himself for work. Just before leaving the place he shared with Vanessa, he walked over to the bed where she slept. No, she was awake.
"Happy 26th Birthday, Van," he told her simply.
"You remembered," she whispered back.
"I knew I forgot your last birthday, and I promised I will never forget again, and I didn't." he told her as he leaned forward for a goodbye kiss. "I'll be back at half past five, darling, and we'll have a private dinner here. I'll prepare everything, so all you have to do is to look pretty."
"You're NOT cooking!" Vanessa looked horrified.
Joe laughed and shook his head.
"I wouldn't dream of torturing you on your birthday, Van. But you're not tricking me into telling you what's being planned either," he shot back with a light nibble of her earlobe.
She giggled – it was that same endearing reaction every time. Vanessa mumbled something under her breath which Joe ignored. Instead he kissed her. It was a mistake, sort of. A long while later, Joe rushed out of the apartment and raced for his car. He's going to be late again, and The Gray Man's really going to have his hide this time.
Yeah, he worked for the Network now, as did his dad. They had no choice because of Frank.