Chapter 11

He stepped off the bus. The Network agents were smart and he spotted a few he recognized from memory during his interrogation. However, he did not care about them now. He only wanted one thing. Revenge. Fenton Hardy was going to pay.

The trip here from Nebraska was extremely tedious. Fortunately, he did have wide dealings with crooks during his long years put in with the Assassins. He could not seek the Assassins help of course; they were extremely unforgiving to those who would not kill themselves when faced with capture. But he had his ways of moving around. He had a very fat account with a lesser known bank in the Caribbean. The bank was well-utilized by terrorists and big time criminals of all kinds. After getting some money wired over to him, he was able to rent car until he found a guy he was looking for who owed him a favor in the past. He was fantastic at forging passports and hacking. He stayed with the guy for quite some time until he got the information and passport he wanted. Disguising himself, he took an internal flight and hitchhiked sometimes until he reached Vermont Ridge. From Vermont Ridge, he took a bus to Barnett Bay, disguised himself by dying his hair, changing his dressing and paying a teenager to act as his son. The Network agents did not even recognize him and praising himself, he checked into a nice hotel, not too seedy, not too extravagant, and just middle of the road under his assumed name, Danon Banks.

It had been so easy to track the bastard down. The guy had emailed him with the necessary information and he logged into the chat line that Joe frequented. Joe should know more about firewalls, but he hardly blamed the kid, 5 years in prison and never been a technology savvy fellow, he could not understand the perils of the Internet.

He felt it strangely fitting that Joe would join a suicide help chat line. He had really messed up the boy's head and to carry out his plans, he was to mess it up even more. He had help of course, very valuable help. Making use of people was one of his strongest points. Meeting people from his past was extremely beneficial.

When he read what Joe had typed out, the conviction that he had done the deeds and yet, a tiny voice in him telling him it was not true but he could not believe the voice, he could only trust the other voice, a velvet voice identified as truth and it made him very sick of himself, "Danon" had been very understanding, knowing the right words to say and comfort the boy, placing no judgment on Joe whatsoever. Bob on the hand was laughing behind the screen, knowing he had Joe snared. And Joe would help him rid the thorn in his flesh, the one who had taken Laura away from him. Laura, the love of his life.

He was cunning, dropping little hints like, maybe someone was messing with his mind, that even though Joe had committed those crimes, Joe had paid. The horrendous tortures, Joe had paid and it was not fair of Fenton to continue to put the boy in a different sort of prison. He knew of course Fenton was trying to make up but to Joe, going back to the mansion was like going back to hell. Joe told "Danon" he was so afraid of stepping out of the room for fear he might bump into someone. Joe had told him about the encounter with Frank, how Frank had been so loving one moment and yet, filled with hatred the next. Joe had told him about how hurt and abandoned he felt when Fenton just jetted off somewhere for two weeks. Joe had told him how he had died inside when Frank thought he was going to hurt Marjory and put his arms around her, protecting her from him, his little brother.

Joe>> Strong arms, they held me once, now they won't, never will.

And Joe told him how at night, he heard the cello playing and he would forget and very stealthily went out of his room in darkness, feeling his way around until he reached his mother's music room, only to find the cello collecting dust in one corner and her piano forgotten. He had thought she was alive and when the reality that she was dead and the knowledge that he had killed her because he wanted money to buy drugs came down on him again, it caused him to want to slit his wrist there and then but he knew that it would hurt those he cared about very greatly and it would not solve anything. "Danon" had (((((hug))))) him, had tried to talk him out of suicide. Bob had hoped that "Danon" succeeded so his plans could be carried out. Joe could not die yet.

And slowly, he conditioned Joe, dropping little suggestions here and there, asking him to pay more attention to the little voice he wanted to believe in and Joe had (((screamed)))) at him to stop it, saying it was causing him very bad headaches. Bob knew it would since Joe was conditioned. But he did not relent. He did not need Joe completely mad, no, that would defeat the purpose. He needed Joe very confused and yet still convinced of his "evilness". He needed Joe very much on the very edge of insanity.

Soon, Joe would hear "Truth" calling again. And Joe would know "Truth". And his plans would flow into motion, his plans would succeed.

Thank you Joe, for being such an idiot. Didn't they tell you the Internet is not safe for kids and manic depressives?

Joe woke up, feeling a little giddy, but he always had giddy spells so he was not that worried. Though the spells left him nauseated, they were still bearable.

Malcolm was already by his bedside; the sight of the big, gentle giant as Joe termed him, brought a rare smile to Joe's lips. Though Michel was closer to Joe than Malcolm, Michel tended to judge sometimes but Malcolm, just like his internet friend, never judge. But he could not confide in Malcolm easily, again he feared rejection.

But he's the first to know about my prison life, I never really told him but he knew. And he did not find me dirty.

"Hello sleepyhead. You were sleeping for so long I half thought you had a hangover." Malcolm spoke to him in a soft, friendly tone. He was a good man, an understanding man. Joe made a face at him and with Malcolm's help, struggled to get out of bed to wash up.

He had very specific facial wash, not those on the market but the delicate ones, saline wash. Samantha would help bathe him everyday, scrubbed him and make sure he was clean but he was always deeply embarrassed. Yet she was professional about it and simply asked him to close his eyes if he was uncomfortable. And he was uncomfortable, extremely so because another pair of hands were touching him, touching him clinically but still, Joe could hardly bare it. He had told her that soon, he would be well enough to bathe himself.

After washing up and brushing his teeth, Malcolm who was with him the whole time, held his hands and gently guided him back. Joe felt a slight annoyance. He could do these things by himself and he resented the fact that Malcolm, Michel and Samantha treated him like some kind of wuss. However, he almost fell down when his knees suddenly turned weak and if Malcolm had not been holding him, he would certainly hurt himself. In these times of weakness, he just wanted to give up on physical therapy sessions with the increasingly irritating Michel.

Doesn't he know it hurts a lot when he tried to make me do the fingers and toes exercise? I can still feel the missing toes too...he called it phantom pain. I'll love to see him lose his head and think where it is with his phantom brain.

"I'm sorry I haven't been visiting," Malcolm guided Joe to an armchair in the corner of his room and sat down on the other one. Joe would personally prefer beanbags. He liked the haphazardly thrown around look but he had no say in this room. It was his prison until he could get strong enough to leave. "The soup kitchen is being expanded to provide not only food but also counseling and job search services to the unemployed as well for the House people to utilize as well. I had to oversee the construction as well interview the volunteers...kept me very busy."

"You'll always have a home here"

Then it struck Joe. "Mal, can you take me away? Please? Back to the House? I promise you I won't drink, I won't sulk, I won't suddenly go crazy...I feel so..."Malcolm looked at Joe sadly and shook his head.

"No Joe, I can't. You need all these medical attention and you need to be with your family now that they had taken you back. You always wanted to go home, now you're home...why aren't you happy?"

Because I'll never be. This is not a home. It's just as bad as those 6 by 8. I spend a good three months inside those 6 by 8 alone, screaming my lungs out. It was either that or the other torture. And it looked like it's back to that.

"Never mind. You're right...I'm...I'm home." He spoke the last word like it was a dirty word. Malcolm gripped his shoulders gently and gave Joe a reassuring smile. Then he presented Joe with a get-well card.

"From all of us to you. They knew you were in hospital but they could not visit as the doctor would not let those not close to you see you. Michel had to vouch for me. And when they found out who you are, they were afraid to come over."

Joe opened the card and smiled at the signatures and messages inside. He remembered Casey, he remembered Leroy. And even stoned Macy signed, and at one corner, a threatening message filled with concern though, "get well soon or I'll kick your pretty boy face" from notorious Regina of course. It filled him with warmth and he read each word over and over again.

"I had no idea they're still there..." Joe asked, curiously. No one stayed in the House for long, it was a rehabilitation place, not a place for long-termed resident. Malcolm made sure no one used it as an escape from the real world, but Joe knew Malcolm would, in a heartbeat, make an exception for him.

"They are not, but they come to visit sometimes. Here's something your dad don't know. Ben got secretly engaged to Regina. She's toned down a lot, learning how to cook even. We suspected that she's pregnant and somehow forced Ben to marry her but then, since her stomach is still very much firm and trim, I guess we are wrong."

Joe's eyes shadowed over. He thought of Ben's legs and felt extremely guilty until he wanted to puke. He puked very often, it was not something he liked but the guilt in him was too much to bear. It would come unbidden and hardly go away to leave him in peace for even a little while.

"I hope Regina treats him nice."

Malcolm gave Joe a strange look and then laughed in that booming, contagious laughter of his. Joe remembered what a shrew Regina could be but though the memory was amusing, and Malcolm's laughter was infectious, Joe could not catch the joy. But he smiled a little though.

"But he will have no time to fool around with other girls while she's around. It's nice to see you smile again. It's good. Jules hardly smiled. I guess I was wrong to make comparison between the both of you."

"I'm always smiling." Joe kept the feigned smile on. A smile that required only muscles, not the heart. The heart could not smile that warm smile that Malcolm deserved to see.

Malcolm ruffled his hair roughly and this time, Joe backed away and Malcolm took his hands back, not offended, being used to it. It was not that Malcolm's touch hurt or anything but Joe could not be so affectionate with anyone. When people get too close to him, he would just back off. It was instinctive; it was protection for him and them.

"You know something," Joe began. "You never told me Jules story before."

He saw Malcolm's eyes hooded over as the big man shuffled uncomfortably. "Why the sudden need to ask?"

"Nothing...just because. I'm bored. I want a story."

"How about Cinderella?"

"I tell that to the kids all the time. I know that one very well."

"Did I tell you that Cinderella actually rewrote the story after becoming queen? She never told us how she made her poor step mother and sisters slaves for the rest of their lives, sleeping next to cows' dung and having to wake up and sleep at ungodly hours."

"Not interested." Joe replied, fending off Malcolm's weak attempts to not explain about Jules, the deep secret in the House. No one who was there the same time Jules was could talk about him without mentioning his name in haunted tones. And Joe was curious, he wanted to know. But seeing Malcolm's cheerless face, he felt awful and was about to tell Malcolm that he would drop it when Malcolm stared up at the ceiling and recalled the very tragic past.

"In many ways, Jules was like you. Sullen when he first arrived. It did not take a genius to know what happened. He was worse in a way, you are a little stronger, but you still needed to escape through alcohol which is very bad. He escaped by...really escaping." Malcolm took in a deep breathe and Joe wanted to reach out to touch Malcolm's hand, provide some comfort when he saw blood on his palms.

Not again, not know...no...

Immediately, he commanded his hands back to his side. Malcolm did not see the gruesome sight and Joe was thankful.

"He...I feel very much responsible. Michel was not at the soup kitchen yet, only Leroy and Casey and other girls you don't know about. So there wasn't anyone who could talk to him. I tried and somehow, the kid got close to me. Yes, he was only a kid at nineteen. Very vulnerable and hurting terribly. There was a deep sense of melancholy. He would just listen to me and not speak but slowly, I sense something was wrong. I thought the kid was...well...falling in love?"

"I got scared, I'm not gay or anything and I don't know how to deal with it, just jokingly tell him he's not my type...but he doesn't get it. I have met people like him before and offered them a shoulder to cry on but none of them reacted in this way. So without any explanation, I distanced from him, giving him comfort when he needed but not going out of my way to really reach out to him. I thought he was getting better, he was, he was smiling and spoke more than a few sentences and sometimes, I heard him singing. Then I found a job for him. I told him, he did not have to take it but he was angry, thinking I was going to send him away. The next morning, we found him with his wrists silted. There was so much blood, so much. " Malcolm closed his eyes at the terrible memory, Joe then knew that he was not the only one suffering, that his friends had their darkness too. He looked at his hands and saw the blood was gone. Picking up courage, he stood up and gave Malcolm a hug. The first hug that he gave anyone upon discharging from hospital. It felt weird, he was like this tiny mosquito trying to comfort a huge burly bear. But at that moment, he felt good, he was not the vulnerable one then, he could help someone.

"Promise me you'll not do silly thing. Don't let your friends die a little every day. Promise me. When Mic told me that you scrapped your hands raw, I was going like...not again..." Malcolm pulled away from Joe's gawky embrace and looked deep into Joe's eyes. Suddenly, Joe felt uncomfortable but he knew his friend needed that assurance, an assurance that he did not know if he gave, he could follow through.

It's not only prison life Malcolm. It's more than that...it's the blood on me that I never told you about; it's the most revolting aspect of me that I cannot stand. You don't know my sins. You don't. Everything that happened is just a manifestation of the soiled garments my soul wears. But I'll give you the promise friend, because I know you will be most hurt if I go this way.

"Ok. I...I promise. Life is beautiful." Joe replied, a little unconvincingly to himself. But Malcolm in his grief could not detect Joe's uncertainty and gripped Joe's hands, nodding his head and smiling.

Life is beautiful. But when will it be beautiful for me?

Chapter 12

He read the newspaper and saw, splashed on the front page, that one of the most eligible bachelors was getting married. A very flattering shot of Frank Hardy with his arms around Hope Hings, the beautiful raven hair girl he had almost killed was blown up and he crushed the newspaper, angry that they could move on while he was still suffering from her death.

Then he remembered in his rage that Hope was Joe's ex-girlfriend. And he had been so protective of the girl, right up to the point of even wanting to die for her. And he smiled; he could turn Joe's sorrow into hatred. And Joe would in the end, help him, like the buffoon-brained idiot he always had been, to destroy the person he now considered his worst nemesis.

Fenton Hardy, your time's up.

Danon>> Hey, I was thinking when you're coming back into the chat line.

Joe>> I feel a lot better now...just talked to my friend, he seemed so sad that someone he cared about committed suicide and I know I can't do that to him...or anyone else.

Danon>> That's good...hey...look at that news...who knows? Frank Hardy of Maximillian Enterprise in Barnett Bay is getting married!

Joe>> Is that so?

Danon>> Yah...man...his girl's pretty...Hope Hings...that's a nice name...Hope. You know, why is it that celebs' marriage are always so scrutinized by the public?

Danon>> Joe? You're lagging again. Hey? You there?

Ibot>>-------Joe has left the chat room---------

"Samantha, can you bring me today's paper?" Joe requested, his expression harassed. Seeing his anxiety, Samantha, without another word, left him and fetched him the paper, three papers in fact, since Joe was not clear. She brought him the New York Times, Wall Street and Barnett Bay's Time, a local newspaper. Joe then waved her away and she did, knowing better than to stay and be snarled at.

Joe saw the first page of Barnett Bay's Times first and there it was, splashed all over the front page, Frank Hardy, young multibillionaire of Maximillian Enterprise to Wed Personal Assistant, Hope Hings. He did not have the patience to read how their "romance" budded. He could only feel a deep sense of sorrow and betrayal. He had very generously stepped out of the relationship but he was never over Hope. Swallowing very hard, he crushed the first page and then was very still. A minute later, he remembered to breathe.

Why? Why must it be them? Can't they break up and she comes running back into my arms?

Look at yourself now! What can you offer her? Your soiled bandages and hardly there mind?

I can...I can love her...I love her...

But it's too late. You have already wished them well.

NO! I won't allow it...

Leave it Joe, take it from me, yourself. You know it's for the best.

But I love her...I love her and I love him too...it's not fair...not fair...

I know...shh...it'll all be alright.

Truth: You don't deserve her. You don't deserve love. What gives you the right to fight? You should hate yourself. Hate yourself..hate yourself..hate yourself...

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I'M NOT THAT BAD! NOT THAT BAD!"

Of course you are. Have you forgotten? You can't have forgotten...you should remember and live through all that happened everyday...

No...no...Hope....Frank...don't do this...not now...not now...

"Hope..." He moaned, unable to take the pain, the shock. Then with more resolution and an anger that he thought he could never feel, not the intensity but the direction it was aimed at. And the jealousy, the let down...the betrayal.

"Frank."

Nancy and Michel sat in their nondescript Toyota, staking Barnett Bay's train station. So far, they had been alerted by two false alarms. It had already been a week since Michel was assigned the case of tracking Bob down. But they had no leads. They had checked with all airports, even the international ones and came up with zilch. This was the best they could do and it was not enough.

It's not even a quarter enough! Damn the two agents! Damn Frank Hardy!

"Michel, are you alright?" Nancy looked at Michel a little worried. Michel realized that he must have worn his anger gradually on his face. He smiled at her and ran a hand through his hair.

"No, I'm not aright. I will not be until we catch him. I'm not alright because...everything's not alright...I mean...how can Frank marry Hope at a time like this? Good thing Joe doesn't read the papers...but I wonder if he knew..." Michel then threw his hands in surrender. "This is not working at all."

Nancy touched his hand as he placed the other on his forehead. Sometimes, he wondered if Joe knew. But Joe seemed strangely alright these couple of days, too alright. He ate up everything, and asked for more ice-cream than usual. He smiled and did all his reps with no complains, he joked around with Michel and the old camaderie they shared slowly crept back. If he was really alright, able to let go of the past, Michel had nothing to worry about but he was alright too soon and that was what worried Michel. Yet, Joe did not mention anything, just had a happy grin when he was wolfing down his ice-cream.

"I know it's not working, but what do we have to work on? We know he can't go to the Assassins, we do not really have a lot to go on...and Frank's engagement party is in a week's time..."Nancy tried to calm him down. "It's not your fault that we are so incompetent lately...he covered his tracks well..."

Michel drove off suddenly and Nancy hurriedly put on her seatbelt. "Don't ever do that again."

"Sorry partner. I just think we should stop staking out. For all we know, he's already in Barnett Bay. It's no use...we need some brains on this...it's like we have given up by telling ourselves, there's no leads, we have nothing to fall on...we do...if only we think!"

Nancy smiled a little admiring at him. Michel's determination when everyone was down in the dumps was unwavering and he was the wiser, more experienced of the two agents and thus, he knew Nancy would trust him to do what was right.

"So what do you propose we do boss?" Nancy asked Michel, waiting for his leads.

"He could not have covered his tracks well, he must have had help...and we will find that help."

"How?"

"Our database of crooks near the Nebraska area."

Chapter 13

Joe woke up a little groggy, he had been sleeping more than usual lately and he did not know if he should be happy about it or not. He always had insomnia and the ability to sleep should be a release to him but somehow, though his mind would always wake up blank, he felt as if his rest had been disturbed but there was no idea what gave the thought, maybe it was because when he awoke, he felt more tired than when he had just went to bed.

No time to think about what kind of dreams I might have last night...time to wash up and...

"We're looking chirpy this morning!" Samantha, his nurse, almost waltzed into his room. She had a happy and satisfied grin on her face and he detested her intensely. Sure, she was beautiful and she was kind and warm, but she was too likeable that it irked him, probably because Michel kept harping to him about what a sexy nurse he had, how if he ever got sick he would want Samantha to nurse him back to health as well and the way Michel went about it was like some horny bastard, a side of Michel that he had not seen before, a side of Michel that disgusted him.

There you go again, expecting those you care about to be like saints. But you're not one, so why put them on a pedestal?

Because I'm not that's why I need someone on that pedestal.

You already have someone.

Doesn't hurt to look for a replacement.

And Michel had told him what a wonderful date he had with Nancy, regaling it for like 3 or 4 times until Joe threw a tissue box in his direction. He and Michel had been throwing things at each other pretty often, actually, it was only him. But it did not get Michel to shut up. He wanted Michel to be like what he was to Joe before, the one who would sit him down and just talk to him. He rather hear Michel battle inwardly about whether to look for his daughter who could be anyway in the world than to hear Michel go on like a lovesick puppy. Joe knew Nancy well in the past and he knew Nancy did not give up on love easily. Part of his annoyance with Michel's joy also came from the fact that he felt like Michel was in for heartbreak and he did not know how to warn his friend.

We're all broken-hearted people...let him have some fun.

He's really in love with Nancy and in lust with Samantha! What kind of guy is he?

He's Michel. He has his flaws...you're his friend...you accept his flaws.

He's not like Frank.

No...because he's not Frank.

"Stop looking so happy. You're giving me a headache." Joe muttered laconically. He was always mean to Samantha. She fed him poison. Those icky salads and assorted stuff that were supposed to all count up to the calories he needed and yet, not too high in cholesterol or anything like that. He was so thankful when Michel had suggested to Samantha to bring him ice-cream instead and his favorite part of the day was the nice, little cup of chocolate ice-cream topped with just a little whip cream.

"I'm happy because you're almost eating as much as you should and your bandages are coming off soon. You should consider wearing the body suit. It helps your scars to heal better..." Samantha set his breakfast on the table next to him and helped him out of bed. He could do it by himself but lately, he was feeling a little weaker. He had read on the internet, besides chatting with his new friend, Danon, who understood everything and even gave him advices, that being severely burn could compromised the immune system permanently and he suspected that he might be coming down with a virus or something, but besides weakness, he had not symptoms like fever, vomiting (only happened when Samantha's out and he needed to purge out the disgusting food real badly) or running nose or anything, except a dull, throbbing morning headache.

"I don't like to wear anything that covers my body for 23 1/2 hours a day." Joe replied in a harsh tone. He was always harsh to Samantha but she did not seemed to mind and he felt a little guilty because he knew his irritation with her was of no fault of hers, she only wanted him to eat healthy, and that she was so gracious towards his ill-mannered behaviors at her. But still, feeling guilty was one thing, ability to do something about it was another. He shook her as roughly as he could away (which was not that rough since he's now nothing more than a pack of chicken bones, waiting to collapse), he made his own way to his own bathroom and did his own things.

When he came out, Samantha helped him to his bed which now, he accepted because his knees were feeling weak and the phantom pain of his missing toes were coming back to haunt him, causing him to be a little afraid to walk, in case more toes fell out. He hated when the morning drowsiness passed him and all the old feelings of paranoia, weakness and other weird, funny feelings of worthlessness he had inside came back to him. With the drowsiness, at least he was partially numbed.

He blanched at the breakfast in front of him. It was the same old weird tasting bowl of cereals and a glass of milk, fortified with vitamins and other minerals that made it taste like medicine with his medication for his burns as well hepatitis B next to it. He felt trapped, like a junkie, something he would never be again. Heroine withdrawal was no joking matter. Neither was heroine.

I killed my mom because of that stupid white powder. It's so undeserving, so wasted.

I should really rot in hell.

That's a very good idea...

"I'm not leaving until you finish up your food. I know you hate it, but it's good for you." Joe rolled his eyes, Samantha was getting just as infuriating persistent as Michel. Ever since Joe had choked his toilet bowl by flushing down food, Samantha had given up letting him responsibly eat alone and watched him like a mother hen. He shoved his spoon into the cereals and ate listlessly.

You win this round. But I ain't going to wear the body suit. Ugly is as ugly does.

You want to be ugly don't you?

I'm already ugly inside, who cares if it shows outside? Probably it's better...then they'll all know.

"I finished. Can I have the ice-cream now?"

"No. It's for later. Ice-cream in the morning will give you a tummy ache."

"Then get me a beer."

And of course he got neither. When she left, he went miserably to his corner by the window, with the curtains drawn shut and sat there, waiting for Michel to come with his torturous regime. Reaching for his laptop, he hoped to find his friend inside the chat room. And Danon's name was on the list, Joe felt instantly better by a bit. He invited Danon to a private "room" to chat.

Danon>> Hey Joe, good to see you. How are you feeling?

Joe>> Better now. I'm back to reclaim my life...

Danon>> Good for you. What made you so resolute out of the blue?

Joe>> I was thinking...I don't know either...it's a little funny...I just...

Danon>> The voice in your head?

Joe>> Yah...something like that.

Danon>> So you're going to try to make up with everyone?

Joe>> I don't know...Only my dad's nice to me and it's weird you know...he's never nice to me before.

Danon>>I...I never told you this but from what you told me, I thought that he's pretty mean to keep you in the house when he knew everyone would end up hating you more.

Joe>> I...

Danon>> Thinking about it, maybe he wants you to be dependent on him...then he would have so much power over you...or it's my paranoid self talking.

Joe>> ...but...Fenton's always been nice...but it does feel like a prison here.

Danon>> If he was really nice, he would not have left you alone in the house for two weeks...you don't even dare to step out...he's keeping you imprisoned without even having to lock you in...he's nice to you but all that he had done just makes everyone hates you...it's funny but I thought it's a very subtle form of punishment.

Joe>> It makes some sense...so what should I do?

Danon>> Just protect yourself. Don't be too harsh and think you deserve all the punishments...you have done your time.

Joe>> Not for her...nevermind. I will try...but I don't think I can.

Danon>> You can, you will. Hey...take care, I got to go, my mom's calling me.

Joe>> Mine too. She calls me every night...

Danon>> I thought...nevermind...take care of yourself Joe.

Joe>> I will. And thanks.

---------Danon had left the chat room---------

--------Joe had left the chat room---------

Chapter 14

Frank left his office for a while for lunch. The directors were off his back and he was feeling strangely gratified. He gave Hope the day off so she could make the necessary arrangement for the engagement party which he wanted as early as possible. But the earliest would be after next week because even though he and his dad had some tension, he still wanted Fenton to be there.

He wanted the whole family to be there. The family that he had fought for and seen through it all.

He would be having lunch alone, he desired it that way since Hope was not with him and Ben had gone missing for a while with a cryptic message that he was going to some beach resort in Krabi, Thailand. He called back yesterday and asked about Joe's moving into the manor. Though he sounded cool about it, Frank knew he was not happy.

How could anyone be?

But Frank told him about the engagement and he told Frank he went to Krabi to get married to Regina and Frank almost crashed his car into a lamp post. Ben did not bother to apologize or explain, he just told Frank he would be back in time, with his new wife for Frank's engagement party.

"Hey! I'm the first born...It's only right I get married first."

He was about to step into Black Coffee when he was stop by a figure about as tall as him. Michel. Frank smiled wanly at the guy who had forged a funny bond with Joe and had worked with Frank to bring Bob to justice. Michel did not smile back and his eyes were extremely troubled.

"I need to talk to you."

"How do you know I'll be here? Tagging me?" Frank enquired a little too coolly. For some unknown reason, Michel rubbed him the wrong way.

No, it's not an unknown reason, I know the reason. He hates me.

"I have my sources. Actually, it was a wild shot. I checked to see if you had made a reservation here. So, can I be your lunch partner?" It seemed like Michel was not going to leave him alone. Frank shrugged and simply walked past him into the posh, yet cozy café.

Michel followed him and sat down opposite him. Frank ordered a salmon sandwich and Earl Grey tea while Michel took a quick glance at the menu, making a slight face before settling on fish and chips and black coffee. Their drinks came first and Frank was getting slightly impatient as Michel kept quiet from the moment he sat down.

"Shoot."

"The prices here are exorbitant." Michel wheezed. "I know you're full of the moolah but how can you pay that for just coffee?"

Frank took a sip of his tea and shook his head. "I thought I'm paying for the atmosphere. It's nice here; you get to see the docks." As an afterthought, Frank added, "Nancy liked it here."

Michel's brown eyes immediately went all alert. Frank smirked.

Bingo!

"So, what do want to see me about?" Frank went straight to the point. Michel sniffed his coffee a little suspiciously, probably thinking they must had added some drugs to it to make people come back for more and more.

"Bob had escaped. It had been closed to two weeks. We have no idea about his trails."

Frank set his tea down a little too fast. The porcelain cup landed on the saucer with a loud clang and some tea spilled onto the tabletop. Bob had been the terrorist who kidnapped Hope and Nancy seven months ago with the help of fellow Assassin Kleptous who had committed suicide. His uncle Bob was not willing to let go of life for the Assassins.

Good for him. At least he had brains.

"You all let him go? Just like that? What if he comes back for the girls?" Frank asked Michel with a disbelief in his voice. "I thought you guys were the elites!" He hissed.

"Well, the standard's been pretty compromised lately. But I'm one of the elites still. Anyway, I'm not as worried for Hope and Nancy then I am with your family because..." Michel suddenly shut up and sipped his coffee a little too quickly. "Ah, great coffee, worth every penny."

"Because of what?"

"Have you tried the coffee? Wow! It's like...I tell you...it's like Nescafe with tequila! Woo!"

"BECAUSE WHAT?" Frank raised his voice and caused the surrounding customers and the waiters to stare at him, a little pissed. Calming down, he was always easily worked up when something threatened his family, he pressed on in much softer tones, "Why should he be after my family? It's you guys who caught him."

Michel avoided his gaze and at that moment, the waiter came with their food. Suddenly, Frank was not hungry anymore. The emptiness in his stomach was replaced by a queasy sense of anxiety. He waited this time patiently for Michel to spill the beans.

"Well...your dad caught him...and interrogated him...I thought he must had a personal agenda against Fenton and...maybe to get back at Fenton, he might come after you guys...that's all." Michel explained but Frank was not convinced. Surely someone like Bob knew the difference between family and Network. But it did make sense somehow, to only a certain extent. Yet, it would hardly count as a certainty. There was something in Michel that caused him to be extremely concerned about the Hardys' safety.

Frank tried to recall what Fenton had told him. Bob had joined the Assassin after being lured over the dark side by his mentor who helped him killed a classmate who was tormenting him. And the rest was history. He was indoctrinated by the Assassins perverted code of righteousness (kill all, spare none) and ambition (world domination a la Hitler). And being in Barnett Bay and in a leading position of Maximillian Enterprise, he was put in charge of the vial business by the Assassins. End of story. Not much personal vendetta against the Hardys whatsoever.

Dad must have missed out something, something he did not want me to know.

And Michel knows. I bet he does. I should play my cards right.

"I need to know your reason behind your suspicions that he was coming back for us and not your Network branch here. Tell me."

Michel gave him a strained look and offered him a deal. "All I can say is that Bob do have something personal with your dad but I...I can't say except that your dad's in danger and since he's not in town, your family might be in danger. I don't know much either. But I had worked with you and I know Grey Man thought highly of you. I'm at my wits end, I need to crack this case and get a promotion because I'm hooked to the coffee here and don't want to go bankrupt. So, help me and you'll know the answer to the mystery because I shall hell don't."

Frank studied Michel's face and figured that Michel was not going to tell him anything else. He sipped his tea again and let the offer run through his mind. There was always the old thrill of solving a crime and also the need to know what was really going on. And Bob was a madman. No matter what Michel said, he was worried for the girls' safety.

And my family's most of all. Dad's occupation comes with a risk that he knew he must accept. My desire for investigative work also prepared me for the dangers that came with it. But my family is innocent. I must protect them. I'll just have to go with Michel.

"Alright. Just tell me what you know."

They were back at the small little office in Little Port. Michel almost banged his head against the wall for missing a perfectly good chance to reveal to Frank the truth but something stopped him, a hunch that his years with the Network, honed and highly accurate, prevented him from spilling everything out there and then. But it would be good for Frank to get involved. If Frank found out the truth by himself, neither Fenton nor anyone else could fault him.

We would probably have to tie him down forever to protect him from committing murder."

"Or suicide."

How can so much love as Grey claimed turned into so much hate?

But if he found out because I dragged him in the case...and kills himself out of shame or regret...I'll be indirectly responsible...no...

Too late, he's already in.

Damn.

But he got brains, he could come up with something that we can't. I am right. Our standard's been compromised with those FBI transfers. Why can't we get the CIAs ones? What they're doing is more related anyway.

"You got a good idea there, to search for crooks in the Nebraska area. But we have to narrow it down. We need to think like Bob." Frank was scanning through the database with Michel. They had turned out 54 likely hits so far but the number was far too large to be of any use. They did not have the time to go check out everybody else.

"I guess it won't be so hard to think like a psychopath. Maybe I should go find a cat and skin it, and I'll think like Bob!" Michel ventured half-heartedly. He was tired. All those useless stake outs, he was tired.

"No! You aren't trying! He will want to get out of that sleepy town he was in; I can't even remember the name from the file. He will want to perhaps find someone who can help him out. Someone with a private jet or some skills..."

Trust Frank to spot the obvious when we, having like 20 heads here can't. I swear if I'm given 5 more minutes, I can do it.

Michel then studied the list on the computer with Frank again and suddenly, Frank exclaimed. "Ah! There...passport forger and hacker...Sean Brines...I think that's it."

"Frank, we had considered him." Michel informed Frank a little triumphantly. So Frank had not really reached a different conclusion than them. Then he wondered if he roped Frank in also for the reason to see if he could best Frank in investigations.

He's her ex! They're over!

"And?" Frank looked up from the screen, interested to know what they thought.

"We checked. He doesn't live anywhere near Nebraska anymore." Michel deadpanned.

"So you're saying can't be him?"

"No."

"But the rest...they would hardly be useful to him...what would he want to do with a car thief?" Frank pointed to a random name in the list.

"Well, to steal some cars and drive here?" Michel offered a lame explanation knowing what Frank would say.

"And be arrested for driving a stolen car. And then alerting us of his whereabouts. No. Driving or hitchhiking is too slow. He may be a patient guy but being too long on the road will give us more time to track him down and that's not what he will want." Frank repeated the exact points that Michel thought he would.

Then Frank suddenly grew silent. Michel watched with some curiosity at Frank's pensive expression. He bit his lips and his eyes would be staring at nothing but one could almost hear his brains ticking behind those dark pupils. Suddenly, Frank looked up and gave Michel a slight scare.

"Where did you get your records from?"

"The government list of course. We don't track these criminals. We deal with terrorists."

"Your system is probably built by us, so it should be safe, but I'm not sure about the system the government used. It had been hacked before, the FBI site...I was thinking...he's a hacker...he could...get me a computer."

What a big ego. Your system's infallible? My PC crashes all the time!

"You can use mine." Michel offered but Frank shook his head.

"Your's too slow. I'm going back to my office, I'll call you tomorrow depending if I have what you need."

Arrogant bastard.

Chapter 15

Nancy took the day off to accompany Hope to the Hotel International to settle the engagement party venue. They had decided in such a rush that there only small ballrooms were available in two weeks time and the next nearest date would be in a year's time for the grand ballroom which was a simply exquisite place. Hope had not wanted to pull strings (The manager offered to call the person who booked the grand ballroom for that day if he was willing to give it up for Frank Hardy,) or use Frank's prestige and thus, they left the Hotel, with Hope a little dejected.

Nancy was dejected for other reasons of course.

"I told him it's too rush...I mean, I want it quick but I want it perfect and these things takes time...even if it's only an engagement party, it's a prelude to how I want my wedding to be like...a dress rehearsel...now, there's no place to hold it...I think I should postpone it...but Frank was adamant that he wanted it next week and he wanted the whole world to know...I...it's so stressful...I'm not breathing...I'm not like that when I got married the first time round...breathe...oh my..." Hope just rambled on, making Nancy even more depressed.

"And Nan, I really want it there, the food's good, the décor is heavenly! But a year? That's too long even for me...maybe I should had ask the manager to call...what do you think? Is it too high-handed? Nan? Hey Nan...are you ok?"

Nancy threw her a slight smile. "Yes, I am."

But Hope was not dense. Nancy also knew she could not hide her disappointment. In a very low and slightly guilty voice, Hope asked Nancy perhaps the question she had really wanted to ask since they were out.

"Are you ok with it Nan? I mean, me and Frank getting married and..."

Nancy patted Hope's hand to reassure her. Hope was driving them around in Frank's almost forgotten Volvo. He must had given to Hope. "I'm fine...it's just too sudden...I'm happy for you two...but I guess it's just the shock."

"You don't fool me Nancy Drew. You haven't smiled the whole time from your heart, I saw you almost closed to tears twice and damn Nan! I really feel bad about it, I do...you're a great friend and Frank's best friend and somehow, I felt I had stolen him away from you even though you assured me it's not the case but I know you still love him...you don't have to help me if you don't feel good about it...but I really wish...I don't know what to say." Hope stopped her car by the roadside. Nancy knew they had not really discussed about the baggage which was Frank Hardy in their friendship and she did not want to pick such a time to bring it up, not when the both of them were getting married. She knew that somehow, Hope did look up to her and whatever she said would only make Hope feel guiltier.

Truthful Nan, be truthful. It's better to let it out at this juncture than when after they got married.

"I don't deny it. I still love him." Nancy told Hope, with all sincerity. "but I don't hope...pun there...I don't wish to get back with him and I can tell...he loves you. He loves you a lot."

Hope looked at her and gave her a half-smile. "There were times I thought he would, you know...go back to you...and I had once thought if I just leave for a while, then the two of you might...but I'm selfish too...then he proposed to me...I feel so happy and bad at the same time, thinking that the joy should be yours...You're my friend! We faced death together before...and..." Hope burst out crying. "I just feel so guilty because you're so nice...and I treasure you so much...I wanted...to ask you to my bridesmaid then I thought that would not be nice...Nan...have I said too much?"

Nancy passed Hope a tissue and gave her sometimes annoying, sometimes too lovable friend a hug. "Frank made the right choice. He would drive me crazy, and I will defy him to no ends. But part of my love for Frank stem from a past we can never go back to. Without that past, our love cannot last. I'll get over it, but I did in a way also initiated it and I'm so happy for him that he found a great girl." She pulled out of the hug and looked into Hope's eyes. "Really!"

Hope looked at her and smiled through her tears. "So, do we have your true blessings?"

"Yes. My truest blessings. I love you both so much." Nancy meant it from her heart. She knew it was difficult but she would wish them well. Frank would never be hers and she had to move on.

Hope heaved a sigh of relief. Starting the car again, she drove off slowly before stopping at a junction. "So, still want to help me?"

"If I don't, I guess your party's will be a mess." Nancy teased. "Let's make that call to the guy."

"The guy who booked the place first?" Hope asked, a little uncomfortable with the suggestion.

"Do you want to get engaged or not?" Nancy was determined. If a girl's happiness required some underhanded means to achieve, then so be it.

"Yes...hell! Let's make the call. I want that place!"

And they did. It was not without much fuss though but Hope promised to reimburse the first customer for all the plans they had made and offered to pay for their celebration at somewhere else, namely, one of the smaller ballrooms. However, it was the mention of Frank Hardy's name that sealed the deal. Hope promised she would get Frank to look through the person's company profile to see if any deals could be struck.

So Hope got what she wanted and Nancy would just have to wait for her turn. After they settled down the decorations and stuff, Nancy turned to Hope and asked, "So, what do you think of Michel?"

Joe dialed the number and then slammed down the phone for the umpteenth time. It had been a couple of days since he found out about the engagement. He needed to hear it from her, only her. Though he had chased her out the first time she came to the house to visit him, he still remembered her, still loved her.

But he had seen blood on his hands then, he could not touch her, could not have her see it too.

It was disconcerting to him. Sometimes, he would see his hands dripping blood, or rather, his bandage soaked in blood and he would want to hurt it even more. Then he would take another glance and his bandage would be perfectly clean with only a faint trace of blood stains. It had gotten so bad that he no longer knew which was real and which was not. The bloody hands he saw were so real, he could feel the stickiness, smell the coppery stench and all of a sudden, it would be gone and more than once, he thought his clean hands were the illusion.

Hell, he did not know if he lived in the real world or not anymore, for when he did not have those peculiar dreamless sleep that were not replenishing, he would have terrible nightmares that he could not tell anyone. And they would threaten to trap him in that sordid cell, further contaminated by the miasma of sweaty bodies. Sometimes, it would be in that room in which he suffered those terrible ordeals in that unfeeling mansion. And thus nightmares merged with waking reality that was not much more comforting, confusing him. He found his memory lapsing a little also, he had to stare hard at Samantha's face yesterday before he remembered her name and what he wanted her to do for him. But there was nothing he could do, his hands would only shake and his body would shudder uncontrollably in the cold night. He was alone, he never felt more alone.

And then he would hear the cello like always, the haunting deep velvety sound that once complimented his piano. Then his world would swim around him and he would be nauseated, hoping against all odds that she would come back to him and keep him safe.

Plucking up the courage he needed, he dialed the number for the fifteenth time. This time, he did not slam it down. He let it connect.

"Hello, Hope here..."

She doesn't recognize my number.

"Hello? Who are you?"

A pause, a prolonged silence with ragged breaths that could be heard, nervous ragged breaths.

"Joe? Joe! Is that you?" The voice was excited, happy and filled with so much joy that Joe just had to smile. But smiled sadly he did.

"Hope..."

"Joe...how are you? Do you need anything?"

"I just called to say congratulations."

To say goodbye.

"You know about it?"

"Yah...I think he's a great guy." Joe tried his best not to sound too despondent. He even smiled as he said those words.

"Thank you Joe..." Hope sounded like her voice was going to crack.

"You're welcome." Joe put down the phone abruptly and closed his eyes. Any more words and he would have begged Hope to return to his side which he knew would never come to pass. He closed his eyes and the old feeling of despair claim him for a while.