Chapter 1

Nancy woke up after her long induced sleep. She saw Frank next to her, peeling an apple. She loved apples, peeled and he looked so handsome, just intently peeling it. Gently, she touched his hand, almost causing him to lose his grip on his peeling knife.

"Hey..." He gave a half-hearted smile. She managed one of her own, until she saw his eyes.

She took a closer look at Frank and saw how haggard he had become. He was still neat, well-dressed and she could smell his usual cologne on him but the warmth in his eyes was replaced by a deep, dark sadness, enveloped by a cheerless gloom.

"Are you alright?"

"Yah, as alright as I can be...here, for you." He helped her to sit up and passed her the peeled apple, his voice tinged with much heaviness.

"Is...is he alright?" Nancy had to ask, she had to know.

"I don't know. He's in ICU, I haven't got a chance to talk to the doctor."

You did not have a chance or did not want to?

"Have you seen him?"

Frank avoided her eyes and pretended to be peeling another apple as best as he could, as if it was to be in the running for the perfectly peeled apple in the world contest. Very unconvincingly he mumbled, "Yes...of course...later..."

Nancy took his wrist, the one with the knife into her hands, stopping him. "Look at me Frank."

His eyes still avoided hers. She tilted his face towards her.

"Ok, I'm looking at you now." Frank deadpanned.

"He's a good person. He...he helped me and Hope escape. Sometimes, we should see the person besides the evidences as well..."

Frank cast his eyes downwards and Nancy could hear him breathing heavily. "He told me to pass you a message, you want to hear it?"

"No Nan..."

"Why not?"

Frank looked at her and she realized she had misunderstood his reluctance to see Joe. Though he was not tearing but his eyes were glazed over with a wrenching sadness. "I want to hear it from him."

"Then you got to go see him."

Frank patted her hands in assurance. "I will. I took him out of the fire. I will bring him out of this." Though he did look her in the eyes this time round, his words were too smooth and Nancy was not convinced.

"Frank...," very cautiously Nancy began. She knew from past experiences that if she went too fast or too far on this topic, Frank would not be too receptive towards what she got to say. Frank gave a very fake smile, she knew he dreaded listening to her preach again. "Maybe we should reopen the cases. The more I think about it, the more I feel there's something wrong. Joe's not the sort, whether drugs induced or not...someone that always had a good heart don't just turn into criminal like that."

Frank left her bedside and walked towards the window, staring outside, pensive for a while. Nancy thought he would just dismiss what she had said with, "Alright, got it," or "Nan, you don't understand." and she almost missed his low voice when he started talking finally.

"We have been in this...business... too long to know that one can't judge the book by its cover. I cannot dismiss those evidence and yet, when I look at him, at the times we had and when I saw him again recently...Nan...there's like a battle that's inside me...and I feel like a yoyo, believing his innocence and painfully admitting to myself that he's guilty."

"When I saw smoke then, the thought that he could be hurt, I freaked Nancy, I freak because in my heart, he's still my brother, and when I held him, when he as close to death, I wanted to so much say I'll forgive him...but I couldn't bring myself too, I can't. Yet I wanted to just hold him, to let him know he's ok. It's not like he was convicted of stealing from a shop or fraud or something...it's...it's monstrous crimes against those he was supposed to love and cherish, those who love and cherish him. We were fighting crooks all our lives, after Iola, he was so much more passionate about going after evil than even me! What he did was a betrayal of the worst kind. I'll remember and I...I can't..." Nancy saw him shivered a little, and wanted so much to reach out to him.

"Maybe I'll regret this, but there's only so much I can take. So much I can do. If I accept him back into my life, I don't think he will be convince that I can truly put the past behind and he will know that I really can't, and when he do, it will hurt us both more. When he gets well, I think I'll probably just provide for him in material needs. But that's all I can do. I love him, I hate him. I don't know what to do with him."

You don't know what to do with yourself.

"And so I'm at crossroads...but I made a choice. And I'm not turning back...until something convinces me otherwise. I so want to see him...and yet, when I do, I just want to run far away." He finished softly and heartbreakingly. Staring out of the window, he raised a hand to his face. Nancy did not know if he was wiping tears away since his back was facing her all the time.

He stood there still for a very long time, long enough for Nancy to struggle out of bed and pat his shoulders. He turned around and Nancy could see how much strength it took for him to confide in her without breaking down. He embraced her, for comfort and understanding and she finally understood the pain he had been going through all these years. When she had thought of him as heartless, stubborn and at times selfish, she had neglected to feel for him, the tedious and tiring position that he was in.

"I understand now."

I still love you.

"Thank you."

Is there a chance?

He pulled away from her and checked his watch. "Hey...look at the time now, I got to go, got to work to keep feeding myself and the directors." He smiled sheepishly at her. She socked him.

"At this time, Frank Hardy! You're not a robot!"

"I'm not...but I'm after all, a very powerful man now."

"With some short circuits in your brains. You need to take things easy, use your filthy money and go take a trip or something." She chided him, feeling suddenly very close and to him again.

"Ah..."He replied, a slight twinkle in his eyes. "Then there won't be any idiots to peel apples for you."

"There's a whole line waiting for you to relinquish that role." She put on an air of arrogance and went back to her bed, pretending to not bother herself with him at all.

"And so I will. I hope you will feel better soon. I heard you can be out in a couple of days' time." Frank informed her and she was glad with the news. She hated hospital food and stuff.

"Yah...go along, don't bother about me. I can entertain myself." Smiling, she took the peeled apple and ate it with exaggerated enjoyment. Frank shook his head with a slight smile and closed the door gently behind him.

Chapter 2

Frank walked into the Burn ICU unit not because he wanted to but because he had to. He refused to go in and see Joe, only meeting up with the doctor because he figured no one else from the family would. The doctor was a middle-aged fellow with graying hair and an obvious gut but at least he looked kind and gently, not indifferent or emotionless.

"Well, it's good to know someone from his family here finally, after two days. Normally it would be them rushing to my office to bug me with questions than I actually taking the trouble to inform them to come. Frank Hardy, I know you, magazines and such. I can actually see your office from where I live." Doctor Palmer good-naturedly greeted Frank but Frank received it very badly, just giving the doctor a slight smile, detecting sarcasm from within the smile.

"The family was busy. We had other things to settle."

"Yes, I have been informed by some FBI agents yadda yadda...but seriously Frank, it would not hurt for someone to be here besides two guys called Michel and Malcolm, we had to let them in because there was no one from the family to talk to him, even though he's unconscious."

Cut the crap and just tell me what a horrible and condemned person I already am.

Frank smiled as best as he could as the Palmer took out Joe's record and clucked his tongue.

"You're lucky he did not die. He should, you know...given the injuries...I don't know whether to call it a blessing or a gift. I'm sorry, we can get rather insensitive at times but I have never...well...you ready for it?"

Frank nodded, the smile had disappeared, and the face was one set in irritation.

Get with the fast so I can get out! You hear me? I want to get out of here!

"He has like 75% to 80% burns on his body, third degree, second degree...most probably scarred for life, symptoms of various STDs, I wonder how he got that but we try to put him on treatment, badly broken bones, mangled hands...had to amputate some toes, sorry...can't eat, can't breathe by himself, not conscious yet, maybe better that he will remain comatose for some time, needs lots of surgery...skin grafts, blood..."

The doctor droned on and one. The gentle look was just a facade. Frank felt like demanding for a better doctor. His assessment of Joe was so negative that Frank had wanted to hit him then. He was not hearing the doctor anymore, blind, hot anger surged in him but his body and his face remained calm, if somewhat unfriendly. But his fists were clenched, he needed to hit out at somebody and the doctor seemed like a good target.

"Yup...I think I lost you halfway there...but...like I said, he should have died. Wonder what kept him alive...he would be in a lot of pain after everything of course...A least his face was quite well preserved, there will be bad scarring on the neck but I guess that should be all...the body is a mess though..."

He did not wait for the doctor to finish, He stood up, a fist shot up and the doctor landed on the floor. He pulled the doctor to his feet and was about to land another punch when the doctor smiled. Frank wanted to punch the smile out but he saw it was a kind smile, a gentle smile. He drew his hand back, realizing this crazy doctor's intention.

"Now, that's what I call a concern reaction." Palmer gingerly touched his sore cheek. Frank whispered an apology that sounded more like a grunt and went back to the seat.

"What I said earlier was all true though, put in the most tactless way I could. Now, I'll be firm. Support from loved ones is the most important to him now. He will regain consciousness soon and it will be so traumatizing if he does not find anyone here for him, you got me?"

Frank nodded. After a while, he managed to say something. "When can he be discharged?"

The doctor studied the records again, his forehead creased. "I'm afraid it will be a very long wait. That will be all. You can go see him now."

He nodded and heavily made his way for the corridor that led to the Burn ICU Ward that Joe was in. Pictures of holy saints as well as the infant Jesus lined the walls. St Theresa was after all a hospital with Catholic beginnings and he pondered if he should ask for intercessions and then remembered he had forgotten how to pray.

Feeling someone behind him, he turned to find Michel looking disapprovingly at him.

"You should have been here."

"I just had a slight drama with the doctor there, please don't start again."

"He looked terrible, very terrible."

"I know, I was the one who rescued him. They gave him CPR from that funny plastic thing. I saw the whole thing. I know." Frank tried to walk past Michel but he realized he could not because Michel brusquely pulled him back.

"No, you don't. You can't really remember, do you? It's so easy of you to find comfort in your precious little Hope, in your work, in your nice, healthy body while he's dying in here! Don't you care?" Michel hissed at him. There was so much anger everywhere. It was understandable. When something tragic happened, anger would be the first to offer unwanted condolences.

"Even your dad did not bother! Do you know what Joe had to go through? No, you don't...you didn't hear anything Bob said..."

"Thank you Michel, for locating Frank for me, that will be all...now that we're here, we will take over the watch from you and your friend Malcolm." Fenton appeared out of nowhere and laid a restraining hand on Michel's shoulder. Michel shook it off roughly and fished into his pocket for something.

It was a broken watch that somehow looked a little familiar to Frank. He roughly took Frank's hand and slammed the watch into his palm.

"I think it's yours. We found Joe's blood stains among other kinds belonging to other people on a bed in a room in the mansion. Judging by the inscription, it's the only explanation I can think of. I hope you keep it well." He then gave Frank a final lethal glance before walking away, Frank could almost smell smoke coming out from him.

Maybe he had not changed his suit.

Yah...I think that's it.

Before he was out of father's and son's view, he turned back and said, in a calmer tone. "I will not stay for long, got some report to type, it's a huge case. But Malcolm, Joe's good friend in the soup kitchen, will not leave so easily. We're all concern about his progress and we will do all we can to help him and his family through it." He then turned into the exit and was out of sight.

Fenton turned to his son and guided Frank gently to a seat nearby. "You need some coffee? You don't look good."

"I'm fine dad. Need to look through a lot of work in the office...been quite long since I last did any updates." Frank stared at the floor, unsure of how he should feel or what he should say.

How long had it been since I felt anything like this? 5 years? But he had been in danger before. He will pull through this time.

Am I consoling myself? I think I'll get pretty good at it.

"Did...did Michel tell you anything?"

"Besides condemning me? No...I don't think so. So...what did my dear uncle have to say? I heard Kleptous committed suicide...that's too bad...could have known so much more from him." Frank tried to have some semblance of a normal conversation going on, something that could keep his mind of Joe for a while. The watch burned a hole through his pocket; burning through his skin, burning into his soul. It was futile to try and not feel its existence.

Fenton gave his son a weird, funny look before coughing rather violently. Frank was a little worried for his father back there and Fenton raised a hand, to motion to Frank that he was ok.

"Caught a bad cough germ...well...he confessed to the virus theft, the scheme, we're still trying to get names of his superiors or any other Assassins...not successful..."He coughed again, Frank felt this time that it was faked. "He went kind of crazy...we're not having much luck."

"That's all?" He quizzed his father, there should be more.

Like, why pick on Joe?

"Yes, I really need to talk less now, my throat is killing me...all that smoke...you going to see your brother?"

"My brother? Dad, I have no idea you're so forgiving." Frank almost snide at his father but toned down a little, remembering that Fenton was his father after all.

Another cough, now Frank was sure it was feigned. Fenton was a good actor but he could not lie to family, especially not his shrewd son who knew him so well.

What are you trying to hide from me?

"Yes, I'm old Frank! I'm trying my best to still be a saint! Now, will you stop your questions and answer mine?" His voice was raised a little and a nurse walked by to hush them.

"No, I'm not. Not today, maybe tomorrow. I got to go now...see you tomorrow."

"Come back home to stay Frank, you shouldn't be alone. It's safe for your girlfriend and her daughter to return back to theirs. You'll be alone."

Is that disapproval in his voice? Hope being a single mom or being Joe's ex?

"She might not move. We'll see how it goes. Bye Dad." Without another word Frank walked away to whatever business he could think of doing, he was never more confused or frustrated with himself. Even the capture of Bob which was supposed to bring the closure of this case did not appease his troubled mind.

Because it is not important after all. Something else is; what I told Nancy...I need to...

I need to seek closure.

For myself and for Joe. For the both of us.

Fenton was all dressed in gloves, face mask and gown before he was allowed to go in and see Joe. Only one at a time, they told him and so he waited until a big burly black man was out first before getting dressed appropriately.

"You must be Malcolm Berat." Fenton shook the man's hand. He shook it as well, firm and friendly.

"He never told me his family was so famous." There was no judgment in the voice, unlike Michel's, no reproach, just a funny sense of understanding. There was even a slight smile in that tired face. Dark as it was, Fenton could make out the darker eye circles still.

"We never found him. Until this happened." He lied, what else could he do? Play the heartless father?

"I see. He was always secretive about his background, but still...it's good to see you. It's not a pretty sight, but you'll get used to it...Doctor Palmer said Joe might be able to hear us so it's good to talk to him, you know..." His voice trailed off, it was getting difficult to discuss what to do when he himself probably was not sure if anything they did would help.

"Thanks for being here while the family needed to settle some things. You'll be around?"

"I'll try...he's a good kid, really...just some problems with...never mind...but he's a good kid...there's nothing a family can't forgive."

No, there isn't especially when there isn't anything to forgive either. A mistake, it's all a bad mistake. A horrible mistake.

He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the wounded mass on the bed. Joe was covered in bandages that were bloodied though they did look like they were just put on. The tubes running in and out of him were numerous and Fenton could figure out a few, one for breathing since one of Joe's lungs had collapsed the night before, one for feeding and others were for reasons unknown to Fenton.

He just felt that it was cruel that Joe was still alive, but Joe had always been fighter, he just wished he knew what Joe was fighting for.

The face too looked alien; it was swollen and tortured. Fenton could still remember how alike Laura Joe was, not only the face but the temperament as well.

How are you feeling today? Need daddy to read you a story?

He sat on a chair that was placed there, obviously disinfected as well. He touched Joe's right hand tentatively and swallowed down a lump when he realized some fingers were not there. The little finger was gone. The first thought that came into his mind was actually an image, an image of Joe playing the piano at a school's concert when he was only 11. All the parents came up to him and congratulated him for siring a prodigy. All of Joe's friends teased him mercilessly and so he never went that public again with his talents, only showing those that were expected of him by his peers.

Like football, basketball, sprinting...not doing as well in school as he should because he was so busy with sports in daytime and piano practice at night.

I know all these. I'm not as indifferent as I seemed.

Congratulations to myself.

"Hello sonny. It's me..." The smell of medicine, hospital sanitization, and burnt flesh were getting to Fenton. He had seen many worse gruesome sights, yet somehow, this was unbearable. He stood up as dignified as he could and walked out of the room. Returning the gown, gloves and mask, he walked out of hospital. He understood what Frank was afraid of.

He had seen his brother naked, burnt; he had seen the raw wounds, had seen how the fire burned at his brother, trying to scourge out the soul.

He stepped into his car and drove away like a robot. He would throw up later.

"I think I want to know the results now."

"You're sure?" Came the uncertain voice over the phone.

"Yes. Just summarize it for me."

"He's yours. I'm...I don't know what to say."

Say you're sorry for I am so sorry.

"Thanks old friend."

"Take care. I'll go see him tonight."

"Thanks again, goodbye."

Chapter 3

He could not speak, had not know how long it was since he was lying in the hospital. When he awoken for the first time, he was in so much pain but he could not scream. The thought of the tenderness of the touch though comforted him, but he could not find the one he was looking for. And then he remembered why was he was hurting so, burning and yet feeling so cold. He was being punished for what he had done, the physical pain was not half as bad as the emotional pain that he could not convey to anyone, wanting to scream for the world to hate him and yet fearing condemnation.

Others came and were ecstatic that he had woken. He looked at them and tried to remember who they were, there were only two. He was frightened, extremely frightened that they would hurt him but they did not, they talked to him, were friendly and warm and soon, he could place their face with a name and wanted to pull the damn tubes out so he could tell them, tell them everything and let them send him to jail once again, he needed that conviction, he would not get a lawyer. If the one he was seeking for would not come and see him, it might be because he felt that he was not being punished enough, was not clean enough.

Days drift in and out. He remembered feeling pain and numbness and anguished when they tried to move his limbs, his toes...he felt that some were not there, and his fingers...he felt his fingers not as agile as before, in fact, they brought him sharp, unyielding pain, pain that caused fear to surge through his heart, a dreaded fear that he would lose one of the most important things to him, after already losing so much.

Operations after operations had to be endured and still the one he waited for had not came to visit. Sometimes, a sweet woman with strawberry blond hair would come, she came often and always with tears in her eyes. He wondered what she was crying for and when the tubes came out finally, even though he was still struggling to breathe, he called out to her.

"Nan..."

"Joe, you're getting better...you are...looking better..."

"Fran..."

Then pain overrode his system again, he remembered almost screaming or something like that, he could not remember much. He just wanted that damn jab to take it away but even then, it could not help much.

He had seen himself when they gave him baths, weird memories of angry red skin with pus and blood. He saw his mangled hands, his funny looking feet. He saw blood on his hands and freaked out so much they had to sedate him, or so he thought. He could not drink the water they gave him; he wanted the water that came from the shower head because somehow it tasted better.

Her blood! Her blood, on my hands, on my hands...on mine...

They said he had been rambling, the big man he remembered as Malcolm tried to comfort him but he could not find any comfort. He was close to death for goodness knew how many times but he fought hard, he wanted to see him again, wanted to talk, wanted to properly seek forgiveness now that he knew everything that he had done. Sometimes he heard his voice but he could not wake in time to catch the elusive figure.

Another brown hair man came, much older. He came and they took him out of hospital and into a mansion. The man carried him gently all the way to a very cozy looking room and laid him on the bed. There were still tubes on him because he refused to eat. The pain was still overwhelming but he could move, with some help. The sessions at the hospital when he would just do whatever a nice young lady told him to helped a little. He could walk slowly, with baby steps and the help of clutches.

But he was still in bandages and it itched miserably. The first thing he did when he was alone and conscious enough was to pull out his tubes (he still did not figure where he got the strength to) go to the window and drew the curtains shut. It took him all of his strength but the sun gave warmth that he did not deserve to enjoy. He hated himself so much then. And he dared not look at his hands. He would see blood on the bandages, her blood, and their blood. He collapsed on the floor. When he awoken, he was on the bed but the curtains were drawn still and there was screaming outside.

And then he remembered everything. He remembered all the events that led up to where he was. Fuzzy memories were being cleared and clarified and disembodied events put into their proper place.

He remembered who he was.

And he broke down, unable to take the burden of his life on his consciousness and the words being hurled just outside the door.

"Dad! You do not bring him in! We told you time and again! You don't care about me anymore! I don't care what he's been through, how he had changed but he hurt me! HE RAPED ME!" Marjory screamed when Fenton pulled her away from Joe's door. She had been trying to break the door open and drag Joe out of the house.

Joe's stay in hospital had been close to 7 months and he was nothing more than a skeleton. Michel had told Fenton that Joe was rambling about Laura Hardy and Fenton had heard his "confessions" and pleas to be "sent back to jail" when he was asleep and having nightmares and had almost broke down then. Fenton himself had heard them but for a whole 3 months, he could not be by his son's side as duty called. And he had tried so hard to get Frank to see his brother but Frank would refused ever so vehemently, isolating himself to the office and his own apartment. Fenton had also been to see Hope and saw that Hope was a very beautiful woman with a very kind heart. He had been the first to break the news to Hope and Hope had broken down then and the next day, he received a threatening call from Frank, yelling at Fenton never to go near Hope again.

"Are you drinking son?"

"NO DAMN IT! I'M SOBER!"

"Frank...stop...he's your father..."

"Hope! He's telling you lies. Joe's dead! I told you already. Now, don't go BELIVING HIS SENILE BRAIN!!"

And he never came back home, but he met up very regularly with Marjory who no doubt had been crying to her brother about how Fenton had announced three months ago that Joe was coming back to the house and had his old room renovated and decorated with whatever he thought Joe would like to see, soft toys, books on mythologies and ancient history and a bible by Joe's bedside, knowing that Joe was the most church-going of his children, having been in the church choir almost all his life until the bad things started happening, playing the piano for the Masses. And then the objections from his children and even Gertrude who was happy with the news and yet worried about what it would do to scars that seemed to have just healed. He then re-considered his plans and had prepared another room in the relatively unused west wing of the mansion (which he hated because it was too big, but could not leave since it was on Maximillian's will that the house be kept and left in unless threatened by bankruptcy which he very furiously wrote that it should never happen and shame on those who would bring about that catastrophe), the same wing that housed a library that once again, not many, except Gertrude, utilized.

Fenton had made Grey Man and Michel promised that they would never divulged Bob's confession to anyone, especially Frank. He could tell that his second eldest was having a lot of trouble dealing with the whole thing and was escaping from it, believing that Joe was dead. But Hope had in one conversation told Fenton that for every time Frank wanted to visit Joe, he bought a little present and that amounted to almost 180 little assorted presents from cds to collectable toys and storybooks. But he dumped them all away the next day, or so Hope claimed.

Fenton was afraid that Frank would do something silly once he knew the truth and that Marjory and Ben would be devastated and reproach themselves. And he was worried about how Marjory would deal with the revelation. She had been healing from the belief that she was raped by her brother and he did not want to see her having to deal with the knowledge that Joe was not the culprit and that Bob was. He did not want her to go through that painful process again.

"Marjory, listen to me! Forgiveness is hard, but when time pass, we'll all be better for it." He tried to appeal to that goodness inside Marjory, inside all his children. Suddenly, he felt very guilty for leaving Frank alone during all those years to be everything to the family.

"I WON'T! I WON'T FORGIVE! I MAKE BOYS I LIKE HATE ME BECAUSE I PUSH THEM AWAY WITH MY HURTFUL WORDS, FEARING THAT THEY WOULD HURT ME! I DON'T HAVE MOM TO TALK TO ME AND LAUGH WITH ME OR SHARE COSMETICS WITH ME COZ HE KILLED HER AND NO MATTER HOW WELL BEN AND FRANK ARE TAKING IT, THEY HATE IT TOO! HATE IT! WE HATE HIM! HE'S NOT EVEN PART OF US! HE'S A RAPIST'S..."

And he slapped his uncontrollable daughter whom he had shamelessly doted on ever since she was born, never laying a hand on her, threatening to sue her teachers when she was young and was punished for being naughty, buying her ridiculous gifts for her birthdays or on no occasions at all. She seemed in shock and then looked at him with so much hatred that it burned into his heart.

"Margie...I did not mean to...Margie..."

"You slap me. How dare you daddy. You claimed you love me best, love me most, claimed that I was your little princess but after I was raped, you simply weren't home. I loved you so much daddy. You make me feel like you were ashamed of me. You made me feel so dirty." Tears streamed down her pale cheeks and she took flight down the stairs. He could hear the doors slammed and knew that she had returned back to the solace she kind of found in her strange kaleidoscopic room.

Helpless to say anything else to his daughter and wishing that Frank was here to deal with her, he went inside to check on Joe again. The nurse that he had hired for Joe, a female nurse since male nurses are a strict no-no given what Joe had went through, had found Joe lying on the floor after ripping off his feeding tubes and drawing the curtains shut. He assumed that maybe the sunlight had hurt Joe's eyes. Whatever the case was, he had carried Joe back to the bed and the nurse had fitted in all the necessary tubes. He only hoped his son would eat well pretty soon.

My son. Laura's favorite child.

He heard! He heard everything...silly boy...he should be sleeping...

Joe was on his bed, not so much crying but staring at the ceiling, too weak to prop himself up. The face was marked with dried tears. The bandages were only on his body, not on his face. His neck and beyond was hideous, red and raw and uneven. But other than that, it seemed that God had not allowed the chiseled face to undergo destruction, as if at the very last moment, God stopped the fire from destroying heartbreaking beauty.

But it's enough. No girls will ever love him, find him attractive. Nor will he ever fall in love...

"You know what happen to people who are convicted of rape inside. Then Kleptous became his protector, but I guess that was a worse fate than just being...well...anyway, there are signs that he went through the same thing during his capture and right before...well...I'm sorry Fenton...we promised or kind of promised to keep him safe but we failed."

"It's my duty. I've failed."

"Will you tell him then? The truth? I advise against it, not now definitely...he might not be strong enough. We have seen what unconditioning did to some of the Assassins that had weaker willpower."

"I know what to do Grey. If I have to bear this guilt alone...I will. It's my fault, I judged him for who I thought his father was. Even then, even if he really was borne out of rape, he's an innocent child, and should not be made to bear his father's sins. "

"Joey..." Fenton began softly; he reached out to touch the soft hair and winced when he felt Joe stiffened. "Margie was not thinking when she said those words...we do welcome you home...we do..."

The eyes still vacant, still staring at the ceiling. Fenton caressed the unmarked face but Joe turned away.

At least there's a response. Any kind will be a good thing.

"I'll leave you now. Maybe you'll like some dinner..."

No response from Joe. Fenton did not expect any either. He sighed and left the room, closing the door as softly as he could.

Chapter 4

Hope paced worriedly around the house. Frank had not allowed her to see Joe at all while he was in hospital and for some weird reason; maybe out of fear of losing her boyfriend, she obeyed. However, she confided into Nancy who had established a bond with her after their ordeal and Nancy could empathized and asked Hope to give Frank a lot of time. It had been a week since Joe was discharged and Nancy had promised to bring her to see him while they lied to Frank that they were going for some retail therapy.

The doorbell range and she scrambled to answer it. It was only the pizza boy; she had ordered pizza for Caramel and her babysitter.

"Here you go," She paid the man a twenty and then smiled wryly at the memory of how Joe had impersonated a pizza boy just to get into her house. It had not been a pleasant meeting but it still brought some kind of sadly sweet aching to her heart.

"Hope! Let's go." Nancy peered through her opened door; Hope got a shock and jumped 3 feet in the air.

"I was wondering if you'll ever arrived!" She grabbed her bag and coat and locked the door behind her.

Nancy drove a sporty BMW and she told Hope she had paid with it through her nose. But it did not seem so since Nancy was still very much immaculately dressed and going for high end luxury spas sessions. Hope had visited Nancy's apartment once and joked that whatever the small company she was working in, it must had paid her all their profits.

"Here we are......It's me, Nancy. Please open the gate. We're here to visit." Nancy drove up to the intercom and announced their arrival to the servants. The gate swung opened inwards and Hope was once again in awe of the gigantic place.

She had only been there once and it was not a pleasant experience. For the 7 months since Joe was in hospital (and Frank kept insisting that Joe was dead for reasons only known to him), Frank had not visited his family and thus, Hope had not the chance to tag along and she would feel funny if she just popped in without the shelter of her boyfriend's arm. They had survived through a distant Autumn and a freezing Winter. Joe was kept longer in hospital than normal burnt victims because he had to be treated for the STDs as well as very severe third degree burns. But the killer they know feared was hepatitis B. He might not have the symptoms but the doctor had kind of hinted to Nancy when she asked that Joe was a walking time bomb, being a chronic carrier and would be at risk for liver failure and even cancer. And he was responding not very well to medication meant for chronic carriers.

This meant that he now had a shortened lifespan. Probably a strange sort of blessing.

Nancy led her into the main living area as Nigel went to inform Fenton of their arrival. Hope had only met and talked to Fenton on a couple of occasions, somehow, he got her mobile number and had tried to get her to get Frank to visit Joe but Frank was not an easy guy to cajole. Sometimes, in the middle night, he would be gone and she would not know where to find him and deduced that he had gone out for a drink. Moving out of his apartment, despite his fierce demand that she stayed, gave her some breathing space but she was in too deep in this relationship to fly away completely.

Now I know how Nancy felt. What is this thing that Frank has that keeps us ladies all trapped in his spell?

He drank more than Joe. His liquor stash consisted of vintage wines and cognac and she would find a few bottles gone every week. He insisted that he drank for socializing and yet, Hope knew that he mixed his daily coffee with alcohol as well as for that extra kick.

Well, Joe drank beer, lots of it. Hepatitis B...hmm... maybe his liver's already gone.

"Nancy...Hope..., I'm so glad the both of you are here...I really need some help here." Fenton rushed down the steps in a fluster. Nancy went forward to give him a hug and so did Hope, though it was rather awkward. It was easy to see the rapport that Nancy had with every single person of the Hardy family, including the crazy Benjamin.

"Why is that Fenton?" Nancy asked with concern. Fenton took both the ladies hands and guide them to the west wing.

"Joe's room to the left, right at the end. It's a small room but...but it's far away from all of the others, they get very sensitive. After seeing Joe, please talk to Margie will you? She was a little angry that...well...she was and still is extremely furious that I brought Joe home. For a week she would not talk to me." He was speaking more towards Nancy than Hope and though Hope was extremely disappointed and a little jealous at Nancy's closeness to Frank's family, she kept her composure.

"I'll see what I can do...how's Joe? Still running that fever?"

"No, but he's...he heard some things that Margie was screaming some days ago and had been acting weird, pensive, quiet, bursting into laughter for no reason, hurling abusive words at everyone who would dare come close. ...I had the nurse sent up some food for him, I don't know if he will eat. He needs to eat a lot, that's what Palmer said right? Somehow...I had to take off the tube since he kept ripping it off, hurting himself." Fenton shrugged and tried to smile through his emotional pain. "I don't think any of us are reaching him. He only talked to you before..."

"Asking for Frank." Nancy finished for Fenton. Fenton shook his head.

"I have to go now, need to pack up. I'm going away for a couple of weeks in a few days time. The nurse will take care of Joe but I do hope you can...if you have the time...come and check in on him once in a while..." Fenton unlinked his arms from theirs and opened the door to Joe's room. He walked in with them. Hope gave a small cry.

He was huddling himself in one corner of the room, the darkest corner, facing away from them, covered tightly with a blanket. The food lie forgotten on the table. But she realized it was missing a fork. She gently approached him but the Fenton stopped her.

"He does not respond well to touch...and...the doctor mentioned that unless you took hep B vaccination, you should be very careful because he's still bleeding from some wounds. And even if you are...still take some precaution...because it's not known if he..."

Thank you. I'll bring my rubber gloves next time.

"I am immunized and I'll be careful."

"So will I." Nancy added.

Fenton nodded and he looked once more at Joe before walking out of the room to do whatever packing he had to do.

He's his father...or at least the only father Joe knows. How could he go away at a time like this!

Hope wanted to thrash out at Fenton's insensitivity, taking Joe back home and yet leaving him all alone. The feeling of abandonment must be so unbearable for him. And she would have lashed out had Nancy not put a calming hand on her and then slowly, they both approached Joe.

"Hey...Joey..." Nancy sat down on the floor next to Joe and so did Hope. He did not stir, just continued starring at the world. Hope could not help but feel that something was wrong.

"Joe...Hope's here as well...you have..."

He turned almost immediately upon hearing her name; she wanted to cry out in joy. She could still reach him; he still remembered who she was.

Nancy said his memories are in a shambles...

But he did not say anything, just looked at them with a confused expression in his eyes and huddled himself tighter, shifting away slightly from them. Hope detected some movements under the blanket but she could not tell what Joe was doing.

"The room is dark...do you want the curtains opened?" Nancy had stood up and was beginning to approach curtains when Joe struggled up, holding on to the window ledge. The blanket fell from him. He stood in front of the curtains like he was guarding a fortress with his broken body, with all his life.

"No! Go! Just go! Don't come here...you don't belong here!" He gripped the curtains, and screamed at them. Nancy jumped back and Hope saw a blotch forming from where Joe had held his precious curtains.

The fork, he has the fork...that's not enough light...oh my God...his hands...the bandages...

Nancy noticed it too. "Joe, what did you do to your hands?"

He's scrapping it raw...raw...

Joe clutched the fork tightly but awkwardly. "I'm skinning him out of me."

"Give me the fork Joe."

"I said get out! Bring Ezra Collig here. I'm ready to sign the confession."

"You're not in Bayport anymore...Joe, give me the fork."

"I just want to sign the confession! I did not before. Now I want to! I want to punish him!" He was positively rambling madly now. Nancy went forward to him and gripped his hands which were bloodied and Hope pulled the fork away from Joe. Joe sank down to the floor, taking Nancy who was still holding on to his hands, trembling and shaking his head, then eying the blood with overt curiosity. Nancy commanded Hope to bring the nurse.

"Hope, go get the nurse. Hurry. She needs to dress it up. He can't risk another infection."

"Just go and let me die here will you? Busybodies...lying bitches." Joe tried to get his hands out of Nancy's grip but was failing miserably. Hope was a torn by what he said but she knew he was hurting inside very badly and so she did not hold it against him. She dashed out of the room, closed to tears. She spotted a servant and asked her where the nurse was. Seeing her fear and the way she stumbled over her sentences, the servant told her to stay where she was and ran to get the nurse who was taking a nap in preparation for her night watch.

Chapter 5

The nurse, a pretty and distinguished lady of about 40 called Samantha Ingrid has dressed Joe's hands while he was still in that little corner of his. She did not talk much to her difficult patient, just very professionally and tenderly bandaged up his hands. Joe did not mutter a word either as Nancy and Hope sat on either side of him. At times he would look up while Samantha was doing her work and very irritably asked Nancy what was taking her so long to get Ezra Collig there. Samantha said they were lucky they had detected his intentions early; he could not do much more than reopened some of the more surface wounds and ruined his bandages.

When Samantha was out of room, going to discard the bloodied bandages somewhere, Nancy stroke Joe's hair which he very politely told her in crude terms to take off. Not knowing what else to do besides staring at him and making sure there were no more sharp objects in his room, they left him still curled up in his corner.

"Nan, what happened to him?" Hope asked with a slight desperation in her voice.

Nancy shook her head. "I don't know." Then she gave Hope a weak smile. "Maybe too much smoke inhalation."

"That's plain insensitive." Hope chided her like a mother and more tiredly she continued, "I will come back again and I hope I can bring Frank."

A hope against all hope. I was right. Frank's escaping from everything again. Just like before. None of us really could stop his flight because he always pretended to be still on the ground.

"Hope, I think I'll stick around for a while, there's something I need to ask Fenton. Do you mind going back alone?"

"No problem. I know you're close to the family...maybe Frank should have chosen you instead." Nancy sensed a little envy in Hope's voice.

That touched a sensitive spot, not one that would lead not to anger but one that would lead to more questions in both their minds. Had Frank truly chosen his love? Would it be alright for Nancy to still harbor a hope at a reconciliation that she herself was not sure she wanted and yet, in those late nights chats that she had with Frank, had seemed so plausible? Would it be right if she harbor that hope and still be a friend to Hope?

Frank had protected Hope from the turmoil that went through his mind. At times, he would flare up at her but she was the one he pampered, kissed and hugged. She was the one who could call him at a moment's notice and he would go and fetch her no matter how busy he was. And yet, for the confusion inside of him, confusion eating him up, leaving no way to escape except for the illusion that his brother was dead, he could only reveal to Nancy. Nancy had also done her best to pressure him, cajole him and to plead with him to visit but Frank would always say no, that Joe was dead and he was not going to see a corpse. It was almost irrational of Frank to believe in what he did but to Nancy, it was a cry for help that Frank himself was perhaps truly helpless.

"Hope..." They were walking down the stairs. Nancy would drive Hope to the main road where she could call for a cab. "Frank had chosen the one he thought was meant for him already. I'll always only be a good friend, nothing more."

Hope gave her a sad smile. "I just wish that he would not be that...we had an emotional connection before but lately, I feel trap and yet I will always run back to him....I don't know. It's the Frank Hardy curse isn't it?"

You don't know how right you are. I wonder how Callie went through her 4 years with him while they were teenagers? Of course he was different then but...

Me and Hope are just like yoyos...and Frank's the yoyo master.

"Don't worry about a thing. Give him time, he probably had issues he needs to sort out."

"If only he will sort them with me. He and Joe are actually pretty much alike...but Joe clammed up because he fears rejection. Frank clammed up because he thinks he could handle it, like he was handling things all these while." Hope revealed and Nancy was surprised at the insight. Hope was right of course, Frank was so used to being control and now that things seemed out of his control, all the more he wanted to try to put a leash on them.

After she dropped Hope off at Main Avenue, she drove back to the Hardy Manor and went to see Marjory. She was packing her bags and Nancy blinked her eyes, startled by what she saw.

"Are you leaving home?"

"Yes. And I'm not coming back until Joe's out." Marjory replied resolutely without even looking up at Nancy. She was as stubborn as Joe, once decided on something, they would carry it through to the end unless someone influential in their lives could beg them to stop.

He was so bent on saving me and Hope. And now he's bent on chasing everyone away.

Looks like he's going to succeed.

"Marjory...it might not be a good idea. You're a girl...you're only 21, where can you go?" Nancy sat down Marjory's bed which Marjory had allowed her to before and tried to pull the younger girl's hand away from closing her luggage resting on her bed innocently. Marjory pushed Nancy's hands away and shut the trunk with a huge slam.

"I'll be fine! Don't baby me. I have applied for a hostel room ever since Dad made his announcement and I got one. Single. I can take care of myself." She glared at Nancy who was trying to pull her down to sit beside her; Nancy was a little tired of Marjory's tirades.

"Did you tell your dad?"

"No. He'll find out soon. I'm bunking in with a gal friend of mine for a week before they pass me the keys to my room."

Nancy stood up, ready to leave, not knowing how else she could convince Marjory. But she could hardly blame the young girl, she had been rape and her supposed rapist was now in the same house as her. Maybe it was for the better.

And when she met Fenton in his study, she told him what Marjory was doing and what she thought about it and Fenton agreed too.

"If she wants to go, let her go then. Soon, Ben and Gertrude will be itching to move as well. I heard Ben's already searching for an apartment to stay with his girlfriend and they are planning to get married like...anytime."

"And you are leaving too. So what's going to happen to Joe?" Nancy quizzed Fenton, a little upset at what she was hearing. Joe needed support, not desertion.

"Nan...in our line, when duty calls, we have to go. Especially me. This is my last term as head. I have to do a good job to leave a standard for the next one to follow." He tried his best to explain. "I am trying to make this stint as short as possible. I will come back to take care of my son."

"Your son?"

"The DNA testing is done." Fenton slumped back on his chair. "I have hell to make up for."

"If I know Joe, he doesn't care about making up. He cares more about you just being there. Get Grey to go...he's a little free lately and driving me nuts." Nancy tried in a last ditch of attempt to convince some family to stay behind to take care of Joe.

"I'm sorry Nan. I have to go. But I'm not abandoning him. I'll be back." He looked into Nancy's eyes for some understanding. And he found some. Nancy was not one to judge and condemn.

"I'll be here as often as I can. But please...we are only his friends...he needs his family."

"Tell that to Frank too."

"I will."