The police station was a vastly different place from the night before. Where it had been deserted and eerie, now it was a hive of frantic activity. Ezra Collig had effectively turned the whole place on its head. Phones rang, voices shouted, and forms and documents were strewn about the place.

Frank and Sam entered what used to be Baxter's office. Collig now sat behind the desk and gave orders like he had been the police chief all his life.

Sam and Frank gave all the information they could think of to Collig. Frank shared the contents of the folder, as the make of the gun that would condemn Nathan Stokes. Riley and two other detectives wrote down every word. Then, Sam did something that made him Frank's hero. He declared that he and Frank had to be going.

"Frank and I have had a long night, and I need to see my wife. If you'll excuse us."

Frank had never felt so grateful to anyone. He bid Collig farewell and returned the hat and vest he borrowed the night before. When reaching for the slapjack in his pocket, he also felt the small pistol he had picked up at the car crash.

He knew he ought to give it to the police as well, but something held him back. Perhaps it was instincts as a detective, or perhaps it was the stupidity that seemed to dwell in the brain of every seventeen year old boy.

He made no mention of the gun.

He and Sam left Anne at the police station. She had a different statement to give them, as well as details about the speakeasy. She would follow later.

They drove back to Aunt Gertrude's in exhaustion.

As soon as Sam's car pulled up against the driveway, Ethel ran out of the house to meet her husband. Sam ran to her, picked her up, and spun her around. Frank grinned at the happy scene, and briefly thought of Callie. He'd like to see her soon, if possible.

But first, there was someone more important. His mother stood at the door, pale and drawn. She must have been sick with worry the whole time. Frank ran up the steps to meet her.

Giving her a hug, he said, "Dad and Joe are okay, Mom."

She seemed ready to faint. "Your father?"

"He's okay, Mom. He and Joe are at the hospital getting patched up, but they're fine, really."

She lifted his chin and examined his neck. "But what happened to you!? Oh my stars, we have to go to the hospital and see them-"

Aunt Gertude's sharp trill sounded behind them. "Go?! Look at the boy! He looks like a yard of pump water!"

Frank snorted. "I missed you too, Auntie."

He addressed his mother. "I'm fine, Ma, really. If you'll just give me an hour or so, I'd love to clean up and eat. And maybe take a nap. Then we can go see them."

Gertrude nodded approvingly. "That's a fine idea. Laura, you could do with a nap as well. Fenton and Joseph will still be there in an hour."

Laura shot Gertrude a sullen look. She frowned up at Frank. "Are you sure they'll be okay?"

Frank thought about it for a moment. He remembered the impulse to hold onto the gun. Things may not be over.

He sighed. "Alright, give me fifteen minutes."

All too soon, Frank was in the back seat while Laura drove him and Gertrude to the hospital. Sam and Ethel stayed at Gertrude's. Frank envied them, but he did want to make sure Joe and his father were truly okay.

He felt much refreshed, having washed and brushed his teeth. He had taken a loaf of bread from the icebox and was slowly devouring it, slice by slice in the backseat. But the exhaustion was weighing him down.

The hospital always disconcerted Frank. It was too white and bare to be comfortable. The stiff smell of antiseptic barely covered the stench of death and body fluids. In Frank's mind, it was a place to be avoided.

However, a joyful scene met him in the ward where Joe and Fenton were resting. The ward was lined with beds, though only 4 or so were occupied. Fenton was clean shaven and reading, looking as happy as a clam. Joe was sleeping peacefully in a bed next to his father's. They were both connected to IVs and looked clean and properly bandaged.

"Fenton!" Laura shrieked. The nurse in charge of the ward shushed her good-naturedly, but couldn't stop her from running down the rows of beds and throwing herself in her husband's arms.

"You're so thin! What did they do to you?"

"I'll explain later darling," he said, kissing her forehead. "Stokes is dead, and everyone is fine."

She stood and went to Joe. "What about him, what happened?"

"Car crash," Frank said helpfully as he and Gertrude caught up to them. "But why is he still sleeping? Is he okay?"

Fenton adjusted his new sling. "He did a lot of physical activity this morning while he was in bad shape. He was basically running solely on adrenaline. He also burned his back in the explosion."

"Explosion?!" Laura exclaimed, earning her another shush from the nurse.

Fenton took her hand calmingly. "Just a mild burn. They took care of it. The doctor says that sleep is the best thing for him at the moment. He has a sprained wrist, but they bound that up as well as the abrasions from the crash.

Frank and Laura both breathed audible sighs of relief.

Gertrude on the other hand, huffed indignantly. "It's a good thing this Stokes character is dead, or I would have taken care of him myself! No one does this to my nephew and gets away with it!"

Fenton grinned. "I can always count on you, Trudy."

"So when are you going to get out of here, Dad?" Frank piped up.

Fenton examined his empty IV. "As soon as the doctor gets me out of this thing, I'm free to go. They want to keep Joe overnight for observation."

Frank sat in the chair next to Joe's bed. "We need to get the folder to the police. It has all the evidence prosecutors will need to put any remaining Stokes away for good."

Fenton nodded. "Actually, Joe told me where it was before he fell asleep again. We can get it to the police in less than an hour."

The doctor came in. "Well, Mr. Hardy, are you ready to get out of here?"

He started the work of removing the IV, and noticed Frank's neck. "Are you in need of treatment, young man?"

Frank shook his head. "I don't think so, doc. My breathing is fine and swallowing is getting better. It should heal naturally, right?"

The doctor conducted a quick examination of Frank's neck. "Yes, I think that's accurate." He turned to Fenton, "Mr. Hardy, you are free to go. Steer clear of guns, if you can."

Fenton readily replied, "I will certainly do my best."

After the doctor left, Fenton rolled down his sleeve and stood. "Frank, shall we go to the police station?"

Frank was saved, of course, by his mother, who noticed the bags under his eyes.

She stood and took her husband's hand. "Oh, look how tired he is, Fenton. I'll come with you. Frank and Gertrude can stay with Joe."

Fenton readily agreed, taking Laura's arm. As they started to go, Fenton turned back to his son. "I'm so proud of you, Frank. You were there right when Joe and I needed you. You're a good man."

Frank just nodded, afraid that if he spoke he'd start crying. He wasn't about to let that happen.

His parents left the ward. Aunt Gertrude grabbed the blanket off the bed Fenton had occupied, and wrapped Frank in it. She then pulled out some knitting from her bed and sat next to Frank. With her protective gaze, Frank settled down into his chair and fell asleep quickly.

Frank was roused by the sound of quick footsteps. Someone was running towards him. He flinched and awoke abruptly.

Iola was quickly stepping down the long aisle of the ward. Her cheeks were flushed and she was wearing jodhpurs. She must have biked from her house. She paused when she saw Frank and Gertrude.

"Sorry to disturb you!" She said, breathing hard. She addressed Frank. "Chet said you were both okay, but I wanted to see Joe- I mean, both of you- for myself. Chet said he would drive me, but Queen is making green smoke every time she turns on…"

Frank chuckled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "It's all good, Iola."

Gertrude hadn't slowed in her knitting one whit. "You aren't disturbing us at all, Iola. In fact, watching these boys sleep has been quite boring."

Iola awkwardly sat at the foot of Joe's bed. She stared at his cut and bruised face. "Is he going to be okay? He looks awful."

Joe scoffed sleepily. "I've never looked awful, and you know it."

She gasped in delight. "You're awake!"

Joe weakly opened his eyes, but with a warm smile. "No need to act so surprised."

He sat up slightly, just in time for Iola to throw her arms around his neck. Frank sniggered as Joe yelped, "Gentle, woman!"

She leaned back, beaming at him. "I'm so glad you're okay. Chet said you looked like you got hit by a car."

Joe scowled, though no one could miss the twinkle in his eye. "I think it's fairly obvious Chet doesn't know anything about cars."

A secretary walked into the ward and whispered something to the head nurse on duty. The nurse beckoned to Frank, who quickly went over to her desk.

"You have a phone call," she said.

Frank nodded, and followed the secretary down the hall. She pointed him to a phone booth next to the check in desk. He entered and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Frank?" His father's voice sounded through the phone. "The police are going through the evidence. They've got enough to put away Nathan Stokes, the O'Malleys, and Specs Torrini. We've got the O'Malleys in custody, but the Coast Guard lost The Leslie over international waters, so Specs is out of our hands."

"What about Nathan?" Frank replied.

"We don't have him yet. He's vanished."

"Does Anne know?"

"Yes," his father replied. "She's actually here at the station. They're going to keep an armed watch over her and Charlie until Stokes is caught."

Frank breathed a sigh of relief. "What about you and Mom?"

"Your mom and Ethel Radley are at Shayne's house- going through some of his stuff. We're going to have a memorial for him once this is over."

"That's a good idea," Frank said. "I feel bad I ever doubted he was a good man."

Fenton laughed bitterly. "I feel bad I left him in Bayport alone."

Frank didn't quite know what to say. His father had been a detective for many years, and a police officer for some years before that. He was no stranger to losing friends.

Fenton didn't leave Frank to stew for too long. "It's okay," he said, "I mean- it's not really, but Shayne knew what he was up against."

"Is Sam there with you?" Frank asked, hoping to change the subject.

Fenton's tone brightened considerably. "Yeah, he's been a great help. I think when this is over, I'm going to ask him to stay on as my partner."

"Partner!? What are Joe and I, chopped liver?"

Fenton laughed. "Of course not, bud. But you are still in high school. Besides, I'm pretty sure you and Joe will have your own detective agency before too long."

Frank grinned. "Alright, I guess Sam can be your partner for now."

"I appreciate your permission," his Dad joked. "Now, what would you like to do tonight? Considering the events of the last few days, your Mom is not about to leave Joe alone at the hospital all night. Your Mother or I could stay with him, or if you'd prefer to stay, that works too."

Frank shrugged, "Eh, the chair next to his bed is actually pretty comfortable. I'll stay with Joe."

"Okay, sounds good. We'll pick you up tomorrow. Bye, Frank."

"See ya."

Frank hung up the phone and exited the booth. He yawned and strolled down the hallway back to Joe's ward. He glanced out the window, blinking in the light of the setting sun. He paused, seeing a strange figure standing in front of the hospital. It was a man in a black suit with a wide-brimmed hat covering his face. He held a briefcase and seemed to be staring at the hospital. He glanced up, and saw Frank standing in the window. There was something familiar about his face, but Frank didn't know quite what it was. There were no distinguishing features about it. The figure abruptly turned and walked away from the hospital.

Frank watched the figure go and not look back. He clenched his hand around the grip of the small pistol in his pocket.

He made his way back to the ward. Joe and Iola were talking animatedly, Gertrude was knitting, and the other patients in the ward were about their own activities- sleeping, reading, or listening to the radio. The nurse in charge of the ward smiled at Frank as he renentered the ward.

Frank returned the smile, but the figure standing in front of the hospital had discomfited him. Was that Nathan Stokes? Or some other lackey of the Stokes family? Or was he just paranoid, and the man was just some businessman staring at the hospital.

Frank shook the thoughts out of his head and sat in his spot next to Joe's bedside.

"But then," Iola was saying, "she gets blackmailed into either betraying this masked vigilante, or letting her own brother die!"

Frank raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "What are you talking about?"

Joe had his arms folded skeptically. "She wants me to read a sappy romance story."

Iola scoffed. "It is not simply a romance. The Scarlet Pimpernel is an adventure, with detective work, and secrets, and disguises…"

Joe raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, you convinced me! I'll read it!"

Iola clapped her hands together. "It's terrific, you'll see."

Gertrude rolled her eyes. "Okay, clearly you'll recover quickly, Joseph. I think I'll return home. Neptune doesn't like me to be away for too long."
It was Frank and Joe's turn to scoff. "You've had him for a week!" Frank exclaimed. "Are you already that devoted to him?"

Gertrude sniffed. "He happens to be a very unique cat- in a class above the rest."

"That's what all cat owners say." Joe replied. "So are you going to keep him?"

Gertrude stood with the air of a martyr and slung her bag over her shoulder. "I would not be opposed to the idea- if Ethel approves. Not that I need to explain myself to you."

Joe smiled. "Hey, it's a good plan. Neptune seems to really like you. But then, who wouldn't?"

Gertrude struggled to remain severe as the corners of her mouth twitched. "Oh hush, you. I suppose you'll need some good food when they release you from the hospital. I'll have a cake waiting when you get back to my house."

"Thanks Auntie!" Joe and Frank replied enthusiastically.

Aunt Gertrude patted their heads affectionately, and strode out of the ward. Frank listened to Joe and Iola chatter for some time, until the nurse informed Iola that visiting hours were over. She left with a bounce in her step and Joe settled down with a smile on his face.

"Are you two going steady now?" Frank asked.

Joe blushed. "Oh, uh…" He exclaimed dramatically. "I'm in so much pain! I can't answer questions, the only cure is sleep!"

Joe gingerly turned away from Frank and began to feign sleep.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Okay, you nut. I wasn't going to judge you. I think Iola is a swell girl."

Joe let out a loud fake snore.

Frank wrapped his own blanket around him with a chuckle. Then, he settled down and easily went to sleep.

Frank dreamed he was back in Shayne Wilson's house next to the sea. Shayne's body was on the floor, still and lifeless. Frank heard noises in the next room- it sounded like a hushed struggle. There was a grunt of pain from a woman and a gentle thud. Frank tried to go through the bookcase passage to the next room, but his body wouldn't move. All he could do was stand there and stare at Shayne on the floor.

Frank awoke quietly. His eyes opened and he took in the scene all at once. The ward was dark and quiet. It must have been the middle of the night.

There was a figure standing next to Joe's bed, opposite the side where Frank sat. The figure was dressed in black and had the same wide-brimmed hat as the man in front of the hospital. His face was cast in shadow, and Frank saw something metal glint in his hand.

The man held a gleaming syringe and was about to stick it into Joe's IV. Whatever was in that syringe would mix with the saline in the IV and enter Joe's bloodstream.

Frank didn't hesitate. He seized the gun in his pocket, stood, and trained it on the man.

"Back off," Frank commanded.

The man paused, glancing at Frank with an ice cold eye. Frank recognized the set of his mouth. Little Charlie looked a lot like his father- Nathan Stokes. Now Stokes was here, trying to kill Joe.

Joe stirred, and then, the man lunged towards him, the syringe in his hand like a knife.

A shot rang out. The man lurched with a groan and collapsed on Joe, who exclaimed groggily, "What in the-!"

Other patients awoke with their own interjections. Frank just stood there, watching a small plume of smoke rise from the barrel of the pistol.