Frank and Joe had the perfect family and the perfect life, right? Well...suppose they didn't. I've set this story just before their junior and senior years. One of the "Blue Books" mentions Joe's birthday as being in April ( or mentions his zodiac sign as Aries, which pretty much amounts to the same thing ). I made Frank's birthday August, for no particular reason, except that it worked. If Joe's birthday is in April, that would make him 16 at the beginning of his junior year. I don't own any of the characters, except Uncle Frank. I don't have any money, so don't sue me.

"Frank, Joe, come on downstairs. We have some good news!" Laura Hardy stood at the bottom of the stairs, smiling at the pounding feet that answered her call. Joe thundered down the stairs two at a time. His older brother Frank followed at a more sedate pace, smiling at Joe's antics. His younger brother seemed to be in a happy mood today.

Landing at the bottom of the stairs with a thump, Joe ran a hand through his unruly blond hair and smiled. "What's the good news, Mom?"

Gesturing for the two boys to follow her into the kitchen, she smiled playfully. "Well, you'll just have to wait a minute. Your father just got home and is starving, so dinner's a little early tonight. He'll tell you the good news."

Frank rolled his eyes when Joe immediately tried to wheedle the news out of her. "Joe, you only have to wait a minute for cryin' out loud."

"You know Frank, sometimes you just suck the fun out of everything."

Smacking Joe lightly in the back of the head, Frank laughed. "That's my job. Goodness knows you're a full-time job." He ducked Joe's half-hearted swipe and opened the door to the kitchen for their mother. Their father was already sitting at the kitchen table, going over some papers. Tall and dark like his oldest son, Fenton Hardy was a very successful private investigator. He had been away for the last week on a case, and was happy to finally be home.

"Boys, how was your week? Enjoying summer vacation?"

Dropping into the chair on Fenton's left, Joe smiled broadly. "We played some football with the guys this week. Biff says if I keep growing like this, he'd better be careful."

"If you keep growing like this, we'd better be careful or we'll go broke buying new clothes for you." Laura looked fondly at her youngest. Joe had grown in leaps and bounds over the last year, and seemed to have shot up two inches already since school let out. It was hard to believe Frank would be eighteen in four short weeks. It wouldn't be long before her chicks left the nest.

She shook her head at that depressing thought and set dinner on the table with Frank's help. "Well, I got a call today while you boys were out. Guess who's coming to visit next week."

Rolling his eyes, Joe smirked. "Aunt Gertrude."

Fenton laughed and shook his head. "No, we got lucky this summer. She's in Virginia, taking care of your Great-Aunt Jeanette. Your mother's brother, Frank, is coming to stay the rest of the summer with us. He'll be here until October, I believe. He's got to come to Bayport to help set up some new computer systems for one of the local companies."

"Uncle Frank! That's great; he'll be here for my eighteenth birthday, then. We haven't seen him for over two years, have we?" Frank couldn't be happier. He loved it when his Uncle Frank came to visit. The two had a special bond, perhaps because Frank had been named for his maternal uncle.

Joining the others at the table, Laura nodded. "It's been closer to three years since he was here. He's been in Europe since his last visit. It'll be so good to see him again, I've missed him so much."

As Laura, Frank and Fenton chatted about the impending visit and what they looked forward to, Joe sat and picked at his food. No one seemed to notice the sudden change in his mood. The youngest member of the Hardy family definitely wasn't thrilled at Uncle Frank's upcoming visit. Joe's stomach began to knot up just thinking about it. What was he going to do? How was he going to survive the rest of the summer if his uncle came to stay? Memories of his uncle's last prolonged visit assaulted him. He felt sick to his stomach.

Looking up as she reached for another dinner roll, Laura noticed Joe's reaction. He looked pale and...she couldn't place the look in his blue eyes. It almost seemed like fear, but what could he possibly be afraid of? "Joe, honey, are you okay?"

Snapping his attention back to the present, Joe reached a shaky hand for his glass of tea. His stomach churned overtime, and he stood abruptly. "I...I don't feel so good, Mom. I...I think I'll go upstairs and lay down for a while."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Laura shot a concerned look to her husband, who appeared puzzled.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Joe tried to smile reassuringly. It came across as more of a grimace than a smile, however. "Y...yeah, I'm fine. It's just my stomach. Must've been the heat and all that running around playing football. I...I'll just lay down for a while and be good as new."

He walked slowly back upstairs to his bedroom, dread and despair building at every step. Reaching his room, he closed the door quietly behind him and dropped onto his bed. Joe flopped an arm over his eyes, his thoughts racing. Oh, God, please help me. What am I gonna do? I can't do it again. I just can't! I'll tell this time. I will. He knew there would be a next time. There always was when his Uncle Frank came to stay. But, this visit would be different, he promised himself. He wasn't a scared little boy anymore. He was sixteen years old, and this time...he'd stand up to his uncle.

Watching the kitchen door swing shut behind Joe as he left, Fenton sighed. "Laura, do you have any idea what that was all about?"

"I have no idea. Maybe he's just not feeling well, like he said."

"I don't think so. That boy was definitely hiding something." Fenton chuckled quietly. "I've learned the hard way Joe's body language when he's up to something, and he's certainly got that look now."

Frank shrugged and spread some butter on his roll. "Who knows with him, these days. One minute he's happy as a clam, the next he's totally depressed. Must be growing pains."

Laughing at her son's fatherly tone, Laura refilled her glass then frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think so. What was with that stutter? He hasn't done that since he was twelve or thirteen."

"Yeah, he did that the summer before I started Bayport High. He got really weird that summer, too, remember?"

"Yes, I do remember. That was the last time your Uncle came to stay with us, too. What a crazy summer that was." Shaking her head at that memory, Laura pondered her son's behavior. "Maybe your brother just realizes that this is your last year together in high school and that next year, you'll go off to college. That first year you were in junior high was really hard for Joe. It took him a while to adjust."

Wiping his mouth with his napkin then laying it on the table, Fenton pushed back his chair and stood up. "You're probably right, Laura. Joe just gets so used to the two of them being together, that it upsets him when Frank ages up to the next level and leaves him behind. I'm sure it's affecting him even more that Frank is about to be eighteen and a legal adult, opening all sorts of doors for him. I think I'll go talk to Joe and see if I can't find out what's bothering him."

Walking upstairs and knocking softly on his son's door, Fenton opened it and stepped inside. Joe was lying on his bed, right arm folded across his eyes. He was lightly pounding the bed with his left fist, whispering something to himself. Fenton couldn't make out the words. "Joe, you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

Startled, Joe sat up abruptly, his eyes wide with fright. He nearly toppled off the bed with the sudden movement, and Fenton reached out to steady him. "Whoa, didn't mean to startle you, son."

"I...it's okay, Dad. I just didn't hear you come in."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Fenton pinned his son with a serious look. "What's wrong, Joe?"

Looking anywhere but at his father, Joe shrugged. "Nothing's wrong. I just have an upset stomach is all. Too much fun and sun, I guess. I ate kind of a big lunch. Maybe I just ate too much."

Knowing he wasn't going to get anything out of Joe, Fenton sighed and reached out to lay a hand on his son's shoulder. When Joe pulled out of his reach, he hesitated then sighed. "Alright. I don't exactly believe that's all that's bothering you, but we'll leave it at that for now. If you want to talk about anything, you know where to find me. Why don't you go to bed a little early tonight? Maybe tomorrow you'll feel better."

As he walked back downstairs, Fenton began to worry about Joe's behavior. Something was ringing a bell, but try as he might, he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

As the week passed, Fenton and Laura couldn't help but notice the way their son was withdrawing from everyone. Joe had stopped talking as much and stayed in his room most of the time. Laura had been puzzled when he insisted on getting his physical for football that week, even though practice was over two weeks away. Joe hated going to the doctor and she'd have bet anything he would put it off until the last possible day.

Finally, the day Uncle Frank would be there had arrived. When they heard the car door, Laura rushed outside to give her older brother a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Frank and Fenton shook his hand, and Frank helped carry in his Uncle's suitcases. Nobody seemed to notice that Joe had hung back and stood away from the others. Except for his Uncle Frank, that is.

Joe shuddered at the icy look in his Uncle's steely, gray eyes. He looked just as Joe remembered him. Tall, almost 6'4", with black hair. There was a little more gray at the temples, but Uncle Frank was just as intimidating now as he was three years ago. And many years before that. As far back in his young life as he could remember, Joe had been afraid of his Uncle Frank. But...Joe had good reason to be afraid.

As they led Frank senior to the spare bedroom, Laura and Frank shot him questions about Europe and the new computer system he was installing. Fenton followed behind, smiling at his wife and son. "Let the man take a breath between questions, you two. We have months to get caught up on everything."

He turned to say something to Joe, only to see an empty doorway. Wondering where his younger son could have disappeared to, Fenton went to check his room. He found Joe sitting on the floor in the corner of his room, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head resting on his folded arms. "Joe, is something wrong? If not, I really think you should be downstairs with the rest of the family. Your Uncle Frank's going to think you aren't happy to see him." He said this lightly, with a smile on his face. Only Joe was aware of the irony in that statement.

Lifting his head from his knees, it was all Joe could do to keep from blurting out that he wasn't happy to see Uncle Frank. That he'd be happy if the man never came to visit again. He thought once again about telling his father everything, but he'd done it before. Not only had he not been believed, he'd been punished for lying. Maybe his uncle was right...his mother would never believe her brother capable of such a thing. Of course Joe had been lying to get out of trouble. Her brother would never have hit her eight-year-old son. It wasn't possible.

Seeing the sudden flash of anger in Joe's face, Fenton crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "I know you don't get along with your Uncle Frank for some reason, but I expect you to be polite and cordial for your mother's sake. Do I make myself clear?"

Climbing to his feet, Joe shot his father a defiant look. "Crystal." He stalked out of his room and stomped down the stairs.

Fenton stood in Joe's room a moment and sighed in frustration. He couldn't remember ever having that much trouble with Frank at that age.

When the family gathered at the table for dinner, Joe listened to the conversation flowing around him. He sat quietly, his shoulders hunched, just picking at his food. Maybe if he made himself practically invisible for the next two months, his Uncle Frank would forget about him. Joe pushed his peas around his plate, knowing it was useless. There was no way he could avoid his uncle for that long. It was only a matter of time until the first blow fell. He felt sick to his stomach. Giving up on dinner, Joe asked to be excused and went to jump in the shower.

As he sat on his bed twenty minutes later, toweling his hair dry, Frank poked his head in the door. "Hey Joe, are you feeling okay? Is your stomach still bothering you? If so, maybe Mom should take you to see Doctor Bates."

Shrugging and giving his brother a half smile, Joe shook his head. "Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow. If not, I'll go see Dr. B."

"Okay, if you're sure. Hey, listen, Uncle Frank's taking me with him tomorrow to show me some of the new hardware they're putting in. I hope you don't mind me missing tomorrow's game with the guys."

Of course Joe didn't mind. Anything to get his uncle out of the house for the day. The more he was gone, the safer Joe was. "Nah, I don't mind. I'll tell the guys where you went."

"Thanks little brother, I knew you wouldn't mind. I'll let you get to bed. See ya tomorrow night." Frank smiled then left, shutting the door behind him.

When the door closed, Joe flung his towel at it and flopped back down on his bed. He didn't know how he was going to make it through the next two months. He just wished he could disappear until Uncle Frank left.

When Joe woke up the next morning, he was the first one downstairs. He hadn't actually gotten much sleep. He grabbed a cereal bar and left a note for his parents. Picking up his football from the hall closet, he quietly slipped out the front door. Feeling like a peaceful bike ride, Joe jumped on his ten-speed instead of taking the boys' van. It took him almost an hour to ride out to the Morton farm, but he hadn't been in a hurry.

Chet was outside, donut in one hand, feeding the chickens. "Hey Joe! What on earth are you doing here so early?"

Leaning his bike up against the porch, Joe shrugged. "Woke up early and felt like a bike ride. Frank is going with Uncle Frank today, so he won't be playing ball with us."

Tossing out the last of the feed, Chet sat the empty bucket on the porch. "Oh, yeah, I forgot your uncle was supposed to be here yesterday. How come you didn't go with them?"

"I wasn't invited. I don't much care about that kind of thing anyway. That's more Frank's deal than mine." Joe shrugged and kicked at a small stone, hoping Chet would leave it alone.

Watching Joe's avoidance tactic, Chet frowned. He didn't know what, but something was going on. Joe had become quiet and withdrawn over the last week, and Chet thought it had something to do with their Uncle Frank. Casting back, Chet seemed to recall that Joe always got kind of strange whenever their uncle stayed for very long. He knew that something was bothering his friend, and intended to keep an eye on him. Maybe with patience, he'd find out what was going on. Chet just couldn't understand why Frank hadn't noticed.

"Well, I'm glad you came. We can use all the help we can get on our side." Slapping Joe on the back, he gestured for him to go inside.

Following Chet into the homey kitchen, Joe wasn't surprised to see that the rest of the Morton household was also up and about. Mrs. Morton was just putting a plate of waffles on the table. She smiled when she spotted Joe with Chet. "Joey, come and join us for breakfast. You can sit there by Iola."

Joe smiled as he pulled out the extra chair and sat down. Mrs. Morton was the only one that still called him Joey. When she slid a plate of waffles in front of him, Joe was mildly surprised to feel his stomach rumble. He hadn't been able to eat much the last few days, but felt comfortable here at the Morton table. He dug into the waffles hungrily.

Hearing Joe's stomach growling, Iola giggled. When her mother shot her a warning look, she bit back her laugh and looked down at her plate with a smile. She'd tease him about it later.

Chet and Joe left right after eating their waffles, so Iola didn't get the chance to tease Joe. She frowned as the two rode past the front gate. Joe had almost completely ignored her and she couldn't understand why.

As they rode toward the beach, Chet glanced repeatedly at his friend. Joe seemed to be miles away...twice nearly missing a turn. He was more determined than ever to find out what was bothering Joe.

Once they got to the beach and the others arrived, Joe seemed to perk up a little. Several times during the game, Chet saw Joe smile and joke around with the others. The boys played football on the beach all day, taking breaks now and again to swim in the bay to cool off. Biff and Tony had both brought drinks and sandwiches, so they didn't even have to leave for lunch. Joe only took a couple bites of his sandwich, however, and fed the rest to the birds. Only Chet seemed to notice.

When the sun began to set they called it quits, declaring Joe and Chet's team the winner. They cheered and teased each other good-naturedly as they headed to their respective modes of transportation. Chet waved to Joe as he rode off in the direction of the Morton farm. One by one the boys left, until just Biff and Joe remained on the beach.

Sliding his cooler into the trunk of his car, Biff turned to see Joe standing by his bike. "Hey Joe, need a lift home?"

Joe shook his head and gave a half-hearted smile. "No thanks, Biff. I think I'm just gonna sit here and watch the sunset. I'll see you later."

Shrugging, Biff got in his car and shut the door. He rolled down the window and waved as he backed the car towards the road. "Suit yourself. See ya later, Joe!"

Watching until Biff's car disappeared, Joe sighed and sat down on the warm sand. He picked up a hand full and let the sand trickle between his fingers. Truth be told...he didn't want to go home. He watched as the clouds turned orange, pink, then a deep rose as the sun set. He wished he was sitting on a beach on the West Coast...then the sun would be setting over the ocean, instead of the cliffs of Barmet Bay. When it began to grow dark, Joe reluctantly climbed on his bike and began the journey home.

Looking at her watch for the umpteenth time, Laura frowned. They were sitting at the table for supper and her youngest had yet to come home. They had given up on Joe and started dinner without him. She just couldn't imagine what was keeping him. When she heard the front door open, she sighed inwardly with relief.

Looking up as Joe quietly opened the kitchen door and slid into his seat, Laura shook her head. "Wash your hands before you eat, young man."

Joe got up and shuffled over to the kitchen sink. Squeezing some dish soap into his hands, he turned on the water and scrubbed away the sand and grime. He could feel everyone's eyes on his back. Rinsing his hands, he reached for a dish towel to dry them off.

Avoiding eye contact, he slipped silently into his seat and stared at his plate. He jumped at the sound of his father's voice.

"Joseph Hardy, do you know what time it is? Your mother has been worried about you. Where have you been all day?"

Raising his eyes to look at his father, Joe shrugged. "J...just down at the beach, playing ball with the guys. I...I stayed to watch the sunset. Sorry."

Wishing he knew what was going on with his son, Fenton sighed. "Dinner is at six-thirty. I expect you to be on time from now on. You know what time we eat, and you have a watch. I don't know what's going on with you, but if you pull this again, you'll be grounded. Now, eat your dinner."

Picking up his fork, Joe tried to eat something. He could feel his uncle's cold stare, and his stomach finally rebelled. Joe dropped his fork, jumped from his chair and dashed upstairs. He barely made it to the bathroom before losing what little he'd eaten that day.

As he stood at the sink, splashing cold water on his face and rinsing his mouth, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his back. He sagged in relief when he realized it was only Frank.

"Joe, are you going to be okay? This stomach thing has been going on too long. Mom's downstairs making you an appointment with Dr. B. right now."

Turning off the water, Joe reached for a towel to dry his face. "There's nothing wrong with me. I just spent too much time playing football in the sun today, is all."

"Yeah, well, we'll let Dr. Bates be the judge of that. Mom wants you to come downstairs." Frank had to practically drag his brother back to the kitchen.

Seeing how pale Joe looked, Laura reached over and felt his forehead. He didn't seem warm, so he shouldn't be running a fever. "Come take some of this medicine, Joe, it'll calm your stomach."

Just one look at the vile, pink stuff was enough to make Joe's stomach churn again. "Mom, if I take that stuff I'll be sick again. It's making me sick just looking at it."

Knowing it was useless to get him to drink it, Laura put the bottle back and poured him a large glass of Sprite. "Why don't you go ahead and crawl into bed. Maybe a good night's sleep will make you feel better. Try to drink this, though, I don't want you getting dehydrated. You have an appointment with Dr. Bates tomorrow morning, so don't leave the house."

Nodding in relief, Joe took the drink and headed back to his room. He showered, slipped into a T-shirt and pajama bottoms and sat on his bed, reading a book and sipping the Sprite. When he finished the drink, he turned off his light and turned over to try to get some sleep. Unfortunately...the nightmares had returned.

Waking with a start, soaked with sweat and chest heaving, Joe sat up and scrubbed a hand across his face. He couldn't really remember what the nightmare had been about, but he could hazard a guess. He glanced at his alarm clock and groaned. It was 4:30am, and he knew he'd never get back to sleep.

Later that morning, Joe sat staring out the car window while his mother drove them to Dr. Bates' office. He knew there was nothing wrong with him that the doctor could fix. Still, he didn't say a word.

He sat quietly in the waiting room, listening as his mother chatted with another lady. It was their neighbor, Mrs. Marshall, who'd brought her daughter in with the flu. When his mother said she hoped that wasn't what Joe had, he couldn't contain his snort of disgust. He slid down in his seat when both ladies turned to look at him. He hadn't meant to do that out loud.

Joe sighed when the nurse called his name, and walked slowly to the door to the exam rooms. The nurse weighed him, took his blood pressure and temperature and led him to a room. He sat on the exam table and swung his feet while he waited.

Dr. Bates walked in the exam room, reading Joe's file, and stopped when he got a good look at the young man. It had barely been a week since young Hardy had come in for his school physical, but the doctor could hardly believe the change. Usually an outgoing, cheerful boy, Joe sat slumped on the exam table. He was pale, had dark smudges under his eyes and, according to his measurement this morning, had managed to lose five pounds since his physical.

Finding nothing physically wrong with his young patient, Dr. Bates pulled his stool over next to Joe and sat down. "Joe, I can't find any reason for your stomach problems. I think your problem is more emotional than physical. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Picking at the hem of his T-shirt, Joe shrugged. "No, nothing I want to talk about."

Peering intently at the nervous young man, Dr. Bates frowned. "Is there something you need to talk about?"

Joe looked into his doctor's eyes and wanted to tell him his secret so badly, but knew he couldn't. He drew in a shuddering breath and shook his head. "No, nothing to tell."

Sighing, Dr. Bates wrote a few notes in Joe's chart. He felt that Joe had almost opened up to him, but something had held the boy back. He needed to talk to Laura. "Joe, you can go now. Tell your mother to come to my office for a moment, would you?"

Nodding apprehensively, Joe slipped from the exam room and walked to the waiting area. His mother was still deep in conversation with Mrs. Marshall, but looked up when Joe stood next to her. "Honey, what did Dr. Bates have to say?"

Joe shrugged and looked at his feet. "He said he can't find anything wrong with me. He...um...wants to see you in his office for a minute. I...I'll wait in the car."

Watching her son walk out to the car, Laura frowned worriedly. She went to Dr. Bates' office and knocked on the door, worry and confusion wrinkling her brow. The doctor opened the door and ushered her inside. Gesturing to a chair, he smiled encouragingly. "Laura, sit down a minute. Don't look so worried. I don't think anything serious is wrong with young Joseph, but I do have a couple of concerns." When Laura nodded her understanding, he continued. "I didn't find anything physically wrong with Joe, but I do think something is bothering him. I think his stomach problems lately are due to nervousness or anxiety. I don't know what he's upset about, it could just be teenage hormones for all I know, but I'd like you to keep an eye on him. He needs to start eating properly and getting more sleep. If he loses any more weight over the next few weeks, I'd like you to bring him back in."

Nodding thoughtfully, Laura sighed. "John, I just don't know what's gotten into him. He seemed fine a week ago."

Smiling gently, Dr. Bates escorted her to the door. "Don't worry, Laura, it's probably something silly that he'll get over in a few days. Kids his age take everything so seriously. Just bring him back in if his appetite doesn't improve. With the rate he's been growing, he can ill afford to lose any more weight."

When she got Joe home, the first thing she did was make sure he ate a good lunch. Satisfied when he ate everything she sat in front of him, Laura relaxed a little. She kept a sharp eye on Joe over the next three days, but got called to do some volunteer work for the Children's Home on Monday morning.

As everyone sat at breakfast, Joe ate just enough to make his mother happy. Laura grabbed a quick bite and kissed everyone before heading for the car. "I'll be home in time for supper. You boys behave yourselves. Bye."

Putting his own plate in the sink, Fenton looked at his watch and grimaced. He was running late. "Listen boys, I've got a new case this week. I've got to catch a flight to New York and I'm running late. Frank, why don't you drive me to the airport. Joe, listen to your mother and make sure you're eating enough. See you in a week or so."

The words had barely left his mouth before he was out the door, Frank hot on his heels. Joe was left alone in the kitchen with his Uncle Frank.

Getting noiselessly to his feet, Joe put the dishes in the dishwasher and tried to slip out the door without drawing attention to himself. It didn't work. He felt a vice-like grip on his arm as Uncle Frank hissed in his ear.

"You think you can avoid me? You've got everyone worried about you, haven't you? I know what you're thinking, boy. You think you've grown enough to stand up to me, that you'll tell someone. Well, I told you what would happen if you ever told anyone again. Don't think I won't do it, you worthless little creep. You think anyone would miss you? I don't know why my sister even had another kid after she had Frank. Why have a useless, clumsy kid like you when she's got the perfect son in Frank?"

Tugging on his arm, trying to get free, Joe made a terrible mistake. "I-I'm not useless or clumsy. F-Frank's not perfect, either. He makes as many mistakes as anybody else. L-leave me alone." The blow that struck the side of his head made him weak at the knees, and sent a buzzing in his ears. He slid to the floor, his arm still locked in Uncle Frank's grip.

"Are you defying me? Do you think you can argue with me and get away with it?" Each sentence was punctuated with a kick, and Joe tried to curl up to protect his middle. He felt the grip on his arm release, as the buzzing in his ears dimmed. The next sound he heard filled him with dread. He heard his uncle pulling his belt from its loops, and Joe knew what was coming. He desperately tried to curl into as small a target as possible.

The first blow nearly took his breath away. He'd forgotten just how badly that hurt. He knew from past experience that he'd just have to lie there and take it. If he tried to get loose, or fight back...it was that much worse. The beating seemed to go on forever, but his uncle soon tired and slipped the belt back on.

"That'll teach you. Get your worthless butt up off the floor and get out of my sight."

Staggering to his feet, Joe made his slow, painful way up the stairs and into his bedroom. Locking his door and the connecting door to the bathroom, Joe lowered himself gingerly onto his bed. He lay down on his stomach and sobbed into his pillow. His back and legs hurt so bad, he could scarcely breathe. He knew this was only the beginning. Now, he'd have to hide the bruises and make up excuses. He felt sick and got up from the bed as quickly as he could. Fumbling with the lock, he finally got the door to the bathroom open. Dropping to his knees, Joe lost what little he'd eaten for breakfast.

By the time Frank finally got back from the airport, Joe had crawled back to bed and cried himself asleep.

Frank trotted up the stairs and tried to open his brother's door. It was locked. Puzzled, Frank went around to the bathroom and tried that door. It was locked, too. He couldn't understand it; Joe hardly ever locked his doors. He knocked softly and, when he didn't get a response, knocked a little louder. "Joe! Come on, we have football practice."

Coming awake with a start, Joe hissed in pain at the sudden movement. He got up carefully and unlocked the door. Walking back over to the bed and sitting down, Joe looked at his feet. "Frank, I don't feel so good. I think I'll sit practice out today, okay?" He couldn't even imagine trying to get through football practice after what happened.

Watching his brother with concern, Frank reached out to feel Joe's forehead, but stopped when he flinched away. "If you're sick, I'll run you over to Dr. B's. You know Mom was supposed to take you back if you got sick again."

Knowing Dr. Bates would notice the marks if he went in to be examined, Joe shook his head. "No, I-I don't need to go to the doctor."

Sighing at Joe's stubbornness, Frank folded his arms. "If you're not feeling well, we go to Dr. B's. If you don't need to go to the doctor, then you're okay to go to football practice. Which is it?"

Growing angry, Joe glared up at his older brother. "You can't tell me what to do. You're not Dad you know, and you're not eighteen yet so you can't sign any medical papers for me."

"I don't have to be eighteen and you know it. You know Mom and Dad signed those medical wavers for the two of us because of Dad's job and our working on cases. Now, either go to practice or go to the doctor!"

"Fine! I'll go to practice! Get out of my way." Giving his brother a shove, Joe stomped angrily down the stairs, his hands clenched into fists. When Frank got into the driver's seat and started the van, Joe just stared out the window. It was a silent ride to the school.

Practice was sheer torture for Joe and he didn't think it would ever end. Finally, the coach blew the whistle and he sighed with relief. To make sure he was the last one in the locker room to shower, Joe volunteered to pick up the equipment. By the time he made his way to the locker room, everyone else had finished and Frank was already dressed.

"Hey, Joe, hurry up. I'll wait for you outside, okay?"

Making sure he kept his back to the shower wall, in case anyone came in, Joe washed up. He put on his clothes, his movements slow and deliberate, and met Frank outside. He climbed into the van without a word, and the drive home was as silent as the drive to practice.

As August 28th, Frank's birthday, grew closer, everyone became distracted with the plans for his party. Busy with her volunteer work, and planning for the upcoming party, Laura forgot her promise to watch Joe's weight. Fenton was in and out with a new case and between football practice, his upcoming birthday and going to work with his uncle, Frank was too distracted to notice any changes in his younger brother.

His brother's birthday was three days away and Joe still hadn't gotten him anything. He had had a growing resentment for his brother since that first football practice. Since that day, there had been three more...incidences...with his Uncle Frank. Trying to hide the pain and bruises from everyone made him sick with worry. He couldn't eat and the nightmares were getting so bad, he couldn't sleep more than a few hours a night.

Since Frank had gone to spend the day with Uncle Frank again, Joe took the van to the mall to try to find a birthday present. He knew their parents were going to take Frank to buy a new computer, so he figured he'd get his brother some new software to go with it.

Finding a parking space reasonably close to the mall entrance, he turned the van into the small space and shut off the engine. He rested his head on the steering wheel a moment, weary beyond measure. Pocketing the keys, he slid from the van and locked the door. He made his way stiffly to the mall entrance, wishing he could have worn a short-sleeved shirt that day. He was so hot, but the long sleeves hid the bruises from his most recent run-in with his uncle. At least the man had been careful to not leave any marks on Joe's face. Those were impossible to keep hidden.

After wandering aimlessly for almost an hour, Joe finally went into a computer store to look at their software. He was looking at some photography programs when a hand clamped onto his shoulder. He turned and threw an arm over his head in a defensive gesture, dropping the box he'd held a moment before.

"Jeez, Hardy, relax. It's just me, man. You need to lay off the caffeine, pal."

Trying to get his heart to settle back to a normal rate, Joe swallowed and reached down to pick up the software box. "S-sorry, Phil. Y-you scared me. I guess I was just concentrating too hard on what I was reading."

About Joe's height and slender, Phil was one of Frank's best friends. He took in Joe's appearance and frowned thoughtfully. "You here looking for a birthday present, too?"

Smiling ruefully, Joe nodded. "Yeah. Guess I've procrastinated about as long as I can. You?"

Phil laughed and reached out to slap Joe on the back. He was startled when Joe took a quick step to his left to avoid the physical contact. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Phil shrugged. "Yeah, I was waiting for something I had ordered to come in. They called this morning to say it had arrived, so I came to pick it up. Some of the other guys are here birthday shopping as well. I'm meeting them over in the food court. Wanna come?"

Not wanting to go home any time soon, Joe was grateful for the distraction. "Sure. Just let me go pay for this, okay?"

"No sweat." Phil stood in line with Joe, talking about the upcoming school year. He was looking forward to starting his senior year.

After making his purchase, Joe followed Phil to the food court. It was pretty crowded, but he spotted Biff's blond head fairly easily. The two boys wove their way among the crowd to join the others at a couple of tables they'd managed to grab.

Seeing Joe walking behind Phil, Chet grinned and stood to welcome his friend. "Hey, Joe. Haven't seen you outside of football practice. Where ya been?"

"Just...around." Joe shrugged, not knowing what else to say. He sat down between Chet and Biff and wished he felt like eating. The burgers the two were eating looked good, but Joe knew he probably wouldn't be able to keep it down.

The boys all began to talk at once, about the party, school and football. Joe just listened to everyone, a little envious. He'd give anything to have nothing else to think about but parties, school and sports.

Tony Prito watched his friend for a while then leaned over to nudge Chet. When he had his attention, Tony motioned for Chet to get up and follow him. Leading him over to the fountain, outside the food court where the two could talk without shouting, Tony frowned and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Chet, have you noticed anything weird about Joe lately?"

Chet sighed. He'd hoped it had been his imagination working overtime, but it obviously wasn't. "Yeah, he's seems pretty different. He hardly ever talks anymore and he doesn't hang out with us. Frank's so busy, I don't think he's even noticed."

Shaking his head, Tony turned and jerked his chin in the direction of Joe and the others. "It's more than that. He seems really jumpy and doesn't let people touch him anymore. Stand here and watch him for a while and you'll see what I mean."

Curious, Chet stood and watched the others. What he saw disturbed him. Every time someone came too close to Joe, he'd flinch or pull away. He never joined in the conversation, just sat hunched in his chair. For the first time, Chet wondered why in the world Joe was wearing a long-sleeved jersey.

"I see what you mean, Tony. What do thing is wrong with him?"

"I don't know, but...if I didn't know better...I mean, if I didn't know the Hardys so well..." Tony stopped, not knowing how to voice what he knew couldn't be the right explanation.

Impatient, Chet waved an arm for him to continue. "Well, what are you thinking?"

Tony sighed. He knew there had to be another reason for Joe's odd behavior. "I don't know. Look...my mother works for Child Protective Services and she talks about those kids a lot when she's home. Some of the stuff Joe is doing, is like what abused kids do. You know...the not liking physical contact, withdrawing from friends, loss of appetite, loss of interest in outside activities, stuff like that."

Shaking his head, Chet held up a hand. "No way. You know Joe's parents as well as I do. No way is anything like that happening to Joe. You know, some of those things are signs of depression. Maybe he's just depressed about something."

"You may be right. Either way, something needs to be done about it."

"We need to talk to Frank. I guess it'll have to wait 'til after the party, though." Chet led Tony back to the others, both agreeing to sit Frank down and talk to him the day after the party. After everyone had eaten, they all split up to finish their shopping. Joe headed out to the van and decided to just drive around.

When he passed the police station, the urge to go inside and tell everything was overwhelming. He parked the van and just sat, staring at the building and trying to make up his mind. He figured even if his uncle made good on his threat, death was better than the hell his life had become. Then he thought about his brother's birthday. Frank was so excited about turning eighteen. This was a special birthday, and his brother thought so much of Uncle Frank. If Joe told his secret, his uncle would go to jail. That would devastate his older brother.

Putting the van into gear, Joe drove back toward the beach. He'd tell...just not until after the birthday party. He only had to get through a few more days.

The day before the birthday party dawned wet and dreary. Joe had tossed and turned again all night. He lay in bed, listening to the raindrops tapping on his window. He heard Frank start the shower then, a few minutes later, his brother's off-key singing. Joe smiled when Frank hit a particularly sour note.

He'd almost drifted off again when he heard the water being shut off. He heard the sink faucet turned on while Frank shaved and brushed his teeth. For some reason, the ordinary everyday sounds of his older brother getting ready for the day was oddly reassuring.

A short while later, Joe was startled awake by a soft knock on his door. His mother poked her head in and smiled. "Joe, your father and I are taking Frank to buy the new computer. It's raining cats and dogs out there, so you should stay home today, okay? We'll be home in a few hours. Your uncle has a meeting this morning, so you'll have the house to yourself. Bye-bye."

Listening as three sets of footsteps thumped down the stairs, Joe was relieved that he would be alone most of the morning. He could finally get Frank's present wrapped. He'd need to find some birthday paper. He knew his mother kept some in the kitchen pantry. Climbing from his bed, Joe went to his closet and dug his brother's present from under a pile of clothes. He found some tape and scissors in his desk drawer, much to his surprise. All he needed now was the wrapping paper.

He didn't bother to change out of his pajama bottoms and long-sleeved T-shirt. He liked lazy days like this, where he could bum around in his pajamas. When he got to the first floor, he took a couple of running steps and slid across the hardwood floor on his sock-covered feet. It was such a relief not to have to worry about anything for a few hours.

Pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen, Joe felt it slam up against something then heard the sound of breaking glass. Before he could even think, the door was jerked open to reveal his uncle standing on the other side, orange juice dripping down his tie and shirt.

"Dammit! I'm already late for a meeting and look what you've done!" The last word was accompanied by a backhanded blow across Joe's cheek.

Joe stumbled and slipped on the wooden floor. He landed with a thump and tried to scoot away from his uncle. He felt another blow to his face then another to his ribs. He'd had more than he could take. Drawing his right knee to his chest, he kicked out with all his might...and felt as well as heard the contact with his Uncle Frank's body.

That only seemed to enrage his uncle and the blows rained down mercilessly. Joe was afraid his uncle was finally going to make good on his threat. He finally managed to draw back and swing an elbow. He heard a grunt of pain, and the grip on his arm was released. Rolling to his feet as fast as he could, Joe bolted for the front door and freedom.

Racing out the door, Joe ran blindly into the rain. After several blocks, he stopped to catch his breath and get his bearings. He wasn't sure where to go or what to do. Remembering his decision to tell someone at the police station, Joe started running for downtown. He was within two blocks of the station when he thought he saw his uncle's car. Fear and adrenaline had him sprinting the other way, through alleys and deserted lots, until he came to the city's main park.

Stumbling to a halt, Joe looked around frantically. He had to find a safe place. Somewhere his uncle couldn't reach him. Through the rain dripping from his hair into his eyes, Joe spotted the perfect place. If he'd fit.

Jogging through the mud, Joe stopped next to the jungle gym. It was built like a cage for small children to climb on and over. The bars formed small triangles where they intersected. Maybe too small. Joe lay down in the mud, and slithered through. He almost lost his pants, but he managed to squeeze through. He sat in the middle and brought his knees to his chest. Wrapping his arms around his legs, Joe sat and shivered. His clothes clung to him in wet folds. In his flight for safety, he'd fallen so many times that he'd torn holes in both knees of his pajama bottoms. He'd stubbed his toes, cut his hands and his left wrist was swollen and painful.

Joe felt like a bird in a cage. The birdcage kept the bird safe from outside dangers, but it could never leave its gilded prison. Above all else, Joe just felt empty. Tired and empty.

It took most of the day to find the computer Frank was wanting. By the time Fenton, Laura and Frank got home, they were tired and hungry. Dashing through the rain, Fenton got the door unlocked and they stepped inside, leaving their umbrellas to drip in the entry. All three headed for the kitchen and something to eat.

As Laura stepped into the kitchen, she grimaced at the stickiness of the floor. "Somebody spilled something and didn't clean it up. Probably orange juice."

Pulling off his jacket and draping it over a kitchen chair, Fenton sighed. "It was probably Joe. Frank, run upstairs and get your brother, will you?"

"Sure Dad. I can't wait to show him the computer we got." When Frank checked Joe's room, however, his brother wasn't there. He checked the bathroom then his own room, but saw no sign of Joe. Puzzled, he hurried downstairs. A quick glance out the front window confirmed that their van was still there. It was pouring down rain. Where could his brother be? He trotted back to the kitchen.

"Hey, Dad, Joe's not here."

Fenton put down his sandwich with a frown. "What do you mean, he's not here?"

"I mean, he not here. I looked all over the house. The van's still here, so wherever he went, it was on foot."

"In this weather? He better not have." Laura braced her hands on her hips. "That boy is in so much trouble, he won't know what hit him. I can't imagine what would possess him to go out in this rain."

Smiling at Laura's angry expression, Fenton stood and reached for the phone. "I'm sure that he must have gone somewhere with one of the other boys and forgot to leave a note. I'll make some calls."

A dozen phone calls later, however, had turned up nothing. Wiping a hand over his eyes, Fenton sighed and debated on whether to make the next call or wait a while. "Laura, I called all the boys' friends. No one has seen him today. I called Frank at his meeting and he said Joe was still here when he left this morning."

They shared a brief look, a lot of words spoken without a sound. Nodding, Fenton dialed the last number. After a few rings, he heard a familiar voice. "Chief, I need some help..."

It was starting to get dark, and still Joe hadn't been found. The storm wasn't helping anything, either. A small, dejected group sat in the Hardys' living room. Several of the boys' friends were there, while others were still out scouring the surrounding area. Chet and Tony shared guilty looks, blaming themselves for not saying anything when they knew something was wrong. They were both sure that, whatever it was, was to blame for Joe's disappearance.

Catching the guilty look, Fenton went over to sit on the sofa next to the two boys. "Chet, Tony, is there something we should know?"

Chet shrugged as Tony stared at the floor. "I don't really know, Mr. Hardy. We were gonna talk to Frank about it after the party. You see, Joe's been acting kinda weird lately and we thought maybe Frank would know what was going on."

Knowing that Joe had become withdrawn, Fenton was curious about what else his son's friends might have noticed that his family obviously hadn't. "Weird how?"

Sharing a look with Tony, Chet cleared his throat nervously. "Well, he hasn't been hanging around with us for weeks. We pretty much only see him at football practice. Normally, with Frank busy with other stuff, Joe would be spending even more time with us...but it's been the opposite, you know? I haven't seen him eat much when we do see him. He doesn't like for anyone to get too close to him, or touch him even. He seems kinda jumpy...like he's scared of something. When we do spend time with him, he hardly says a word. He's just hasn't been...Joe."

Taking a moment to absorb Chet's words, Fenton sighed and turned his attention to Tony. "What about you, Tony? Anything you want to add?"

Looking at Chet for support, Tony tried to put his thoughts into words. "Well, at first I thought...but that couldn't be it, so we thought maybe Joe was depressed about something. We didn't know what it was, but thought Frank would know or could find out."

Knowing that Tony was hiding something, Fenton fixed the young man with a serious look. "You said you thought there was something else wrong at first. What did you think?"

Tony was saved from answering by the ringing of the phone.

Being closest to the phone, Biff answered it then passed it to Fenton. "Fenton Hardy. He's where? What do you mean you can't get him out? Get him out of where? He what? Why is the Fire dept. being called? You need them to do what? Okay, okay. Look, I'll be there in five or ten minutes. Just hold everything until I get there, okay? Good. Thanks."

Hanging up the phone, Fenton found every one in the room looking at him with worry. "They found him at the park. I'm on my way to get him. I'll let everyone know what's going on the minute I find out for myself." Giving his wife a kiss and a reassuring hug, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the car. He still wasn't quite sure what was going on.

Circling the park, Con Riley kept his eyes open for any sign of the missing boy. He'd received the missing person bulletin while stopped for a bite to eat. When he realized who the missing kid was, he forgot his dinner and went back out into the rain to help search for him while on his regular patrol. Looking toward the playground during a brief flash of lightning, Con thought he saw something under the jungle gym. Pulling his patrol car into the park, he grabbed his flashlight and, slipping on his rain gear, jogged over to check it out.

When he got close enough, he could tell the huddled mass was a person. When he shone his light on the shivering figure, he couldn't believe it. He'd found the missing Hardy kid. The boy was soaking wet and covered in mud. Con tried to get him to come out from the jungle gym, but Joe wouldn't even look up. He tried several different tactics, but never got a response.

Pulling his radio mic close to his face so he could be heard, Con fingered the key. "Dispatch, this is Officer Riley. Patch me through to the Chief, please." He waited a few moments then heard a burst of static, followed by his Chief's gruff voice. "Go ahead Riley."

"Sir, I found the Hardy boy, but I've got a problem. He's managed to crawl under the jungle gym here at the park and I can't get him to come out. I'm too big to fit through the bars."

"Stay with him, Con. I'm on my way. I'll be there in three minutes."

Riley acknowledged the call then went to his patrol car for a blanket. When he returned to the playground, he tried to get Joe to take the blanket, but he still couldn't get a response. He was still trying to get the boy to take the blanket when Chief Collig pulled up a few minutes later.

Not having any more success than his officer, Chief Collig gave up and went back to his car to use his cell phone. "Fenton Hardy, please. Fenton? Listen, we found Joe. He's here at McAllister Park. We can't get him out, so we'd like you to come down here. He's under the jungle gym and won't come out. He's just sitting there, not making a sound. I'll have the Fire dept. sent out here. Why? They may need to cut the bars to get the boy out. Okay, we'll be waiting for you."

Rejoining Officer Riley, Collig stood in the rain, watching the shivering young man sitting in the mud. "Fenton's on his way. Call the Fire boys out here; we may need them to cut him out. I want this kid taken to the E.R. when we get him out of here. Something bad must've happened to him to get this reaction. Call Doctor Bates, he's their family doctor, and have him meet us at Bayport General."

"Yes, sir." Retreating a few steps, so as to not be overheard by Joe, Riley put in the calls. Returning to his Chief, he relayed the responses. "The Fire Dept. will be here in a minute or two, and Dr. Bates said he'll be waiting for us. He's even getting a room ready in case Joe has to be admitted. From the looks of it, he probably will. What do you think happened?"

Chief Collig just shrugged. He couldn't even begin to guess at what happened to send Joe to this spot.

When Fenton pulled his sedan into the park, it looked like chaos. Two police cars and a fire engine were parked near the playground, their lights flashing. The glow from the emergency lights created a strobe-like effect across the playground equipment. Firefighters mingled together near the engine, an officer standing nearby. Huddled underneath the jungle gym was a familiar blond-headed figure. When he took in the appearance of his son, Fenton's heart broke at the forlorn look on the boy's face.

Jogging over to the group of men, Fenton's eyes never left his son. "Chief! What's going on?"

Sighing with relief at Fenton's arrival, Collig pulled himself away from the firefighters and sloshed through the mud to meet the distraught father halfway. "Fenton, just a minute. This is the situation. Joe has managed to crawl inside there, but none of us are thin enough to go in after him. Nothing we try will get him to come out. Fenton, we've got to get that boy out of here. From what we can make out with the lights, your son has cuts and scrapes all over him and his left wrist is swollen. The EMTs over there think the wrist may be broken. Either way, he's been sitting out here in the rain for who know how long."

Nodding his understanding, Fenton swallowed his emotions and walked softly to kneel next to the bars. "Joe? Son, we need to get you out of the rain. Come on out of there."

Hearing the familiar voice, Joe turned to stare at his father. Fenton had to strain to hear the whispered words. All he understood was "tired". "You're tired? Well, come on out of there and we'll take you home to get some sleep." Startled when his words seem to agitate his son, Fenton tried to figure out which words had set him off. "Joe, do you not want to go home? Is that it?"

He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought that got a minute nod from Joe. "Okay, we won't go home. I think Dr. Bates is waiting for you at Bayport General, anyway. You can get a good night's sleep there." That got an even more agitated response, and Fenton was thoroughly confused. He looked back at Collig, who just shrugged.

"Joey, I really need you to come out of there, son. If you can't come out by yourself, the firemen will cut the bars so we can come and get you. I need you to tell me what's wrong."

That got a reaction. Joe looked at his father with a sad, hurt expression. "I told you before. You didn't believe me."

Having no clue what Joe was talking about, Fenton shook his head. "I don't know what you mean, son. What did you tell me? I need you to come out and explain it to me, okay?"

Surprisingly, this got a response. Joe unfolded his arms and legs and crawled over to the bars. He seemed to get stuck halfway through and Fenton reached down, grasped his son under the arms and pulled. Joe shot from the jungle gym like a cork from a bottle and Fenton slipped and fell. He sat in the mud, cradling his son. He looked up to see Con Riley offering a blanket. Smiling gratefully, he wrapped the shivering young man as tightly as he could.

Lifting his son from the mud, knowing Joe should weigh more than he did, Fenton carried him to Chief Collig's car. The ride to Bayport General was the longest in Fenton's life.

Dr. Bates was waiting for them when they pulled into the E.R. and got Joe into an exam room right away. Under the bright lights of the emergency room, everyone could see the black eye and swollen cheek. Fenton laid his son down on the gurney and stepped back to make room for Dr. Bates and the nurse.

When he took Joe's pulse, John Bates noticed how cold the boy's skin was and sent the nurse for a few blankets from the warmer. When he pushed back Joe's sleeve to examine the swollen wrist, John was surprised to see a glimpse of bruises. Sliding the sleeve up a little higher, he saw several more. Feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach, he angled himself so that he was blocking Fenton's view. Once he was sure the distraught father couldn't see what he was doing, John pulled up the hem of Joe's T-shirt to confirm his suspicion. Sure enough, Joe's abdomen and torso was covered in bruises in various stages of healing.

The nurse returned with the blankets and tucked them around Joe, who had succumbed to his exhaustion and fallen asleep. John whispered a few words to her and then motioned for Fenton to follow him out into the hall. "Fenton, why don't you go call your wife and son and let them know what's going on? I've got to get Joe cleaned up so we can clean out those cuts and scrapes and get him off to x-ray to have that wrist checked out, okay?"

Not wanting to leave his son, but knowing he'd only be in the way, Fenton nodded reluctantly. "John, what happened? I don't understand."

"I don't know, yet, Fenton. The minute Joe wakes up, I'll try to get him to talk to me. Whatever it is, I have a feeling it's been going on for nearly a month. Go call your family."

Walking out to the waiting room, Fenton used a pay phone to let Laura and Frank know what was happening. Frank promised to drive his mother to the hospital, assuring his father that he'd drive carefully. When Fenton turned the corner to Joe's exam room, he was shocked to see a police photographer leaving his son's room and Chief Collig entering it.

Bursting through the door, he was surprised to see the tubes and wires that had been added while he was on the phone. There was a tube taped to his son's face, the other end disappearing into his nose. Wires were attached to his chest, and he had an IV in the back of one hand. Doctor Bates noticed the look on Fenton's face and hurried to explain what had been done.

"Fenton take it easy. We gave Joe an IV to try to get some fluids in him and put him on the heart monitor, just to make sure everything is okay. I dropped an NG tube to get some nutrients in his system. He's lost a lot of weight in the last month."

Still unsure what was going on, Fenton pointed to the door. "What was the police photographer doing in here?"

Sharing a worried look with Chief Collig, Dr. Bates sighed and rubbed a hand through his graying hair. "Fenton, I want you to take settle down first, okay? I need you to stay calm for your son's sake." When he thought Fenton was as calm as circumstances would allow, he reached over and pulled Joe's blanket down to his waist. His mud-covered pajamas had been removed, and he had been cleaned and dressed in a hospital gown. The gown hadn't been tied, so John easily slipped it off and laid it aside.

Fenton was stunned by the bruises that dotted his son's arms and torso. "Oh my...! Who did that to my son?"

Shaking his head sadly, John motioned for Fenton to stand next to Joe's bed. "Fenton, I'm afraid it gets worse." Gently rolling Joe onto his side, John watched as the full realization of what had happened hit Fenton like a brick.

Fenton felt sick. His son's back, from neck to waist, was covered with bruises. He wondered what the blankets were covering. Swallowing the bile in his throat, he leaned against the bed rails. "His legs?"

"The same as the rest of him." Dr. Bates lowered Joe onto his back and replaced the hospital gown. Covering him back up with the blankets, he checked the IV line and the splinted wrist. He heard Fenton whispering something, but only caught the word "clothes". "What did you say?"

Clearing his throat, Fenton watched his son sleep. "I said, that explains his clothes. Thinking back, Joe's been wearing pants and long-sleeved shirts for a while. I didn't...didn't even think anything about it. How could I not know this was happening?"

"Fenton, stop blaming yourself. I examined the boy myself. Twice! I knew something was bothering him and didn't press him to tell me. I don't think anyone realized what was going on."

"His friends did. At least...Chet and Tony knew something was wrong. I think Tony even suspected this. I just don't understand why Joe didn't tell me."

Leaning against a counter, Dr. Bates frowned thoughtfully. "Fenton, you do realize that Joe's abuser has to be someone he knows."

Abuser. Fenton shook his head at the horrible word. Child abuse was something that happened in other families. Not theirs. He couldn't understand it.

His stomach dropped when Joe's words echoed in his head. I told you before. You didn't believe me. "Oh, God, how could I be so stupid? Joe told us years ago...but we thought he was lying to get out of trouble. We had gone to pick Frank up from a sleep-over. We had gotten to talking to the other boy's parents and lost track of time. We didn't worry about it because Joe had been left with my brother-in-law, Frank. When we got home, Laura's favorite vase was on the floor in pieces. Frank told us Joe had been playing ball in the house and broken it. Joe was crying and said it got broken when Frank hit him and knocked him down."

Pausing to look at John with haunted eyes, Fenton braced his hands against the bed railing. "John, we thought Joe was just making that up to get out of being punished for doing something he knew wasn't allowed. How could we believe Laura's brother would hurt our son?"

Resting a comforting hand on Fenton's shoulder, Dr. Bates sighed. "Fenton, we never expect something like this. You never want to believe someone would hurt a child. It goes against our very nature, but it happens. The important thing is...now we know and it won't happen again. The fact that Joe's bounced back every time after his uncle left, indicates that he'll do it again this time. Plus, this time he has the support of his friends and family."

Both men left the room when the orderlies arrived to take Joe to x-ray. He still hadn't returned when Laura and Frank arrived. Taking his wife and son to the empty room, he explained everything. Neither could believe Uncle Frank capable of doing such a thing.

"Fenton, there has to be some other person responsible for this. My brother would never hurt our son."

"Laura, I know you don't want to believe it, but it's got to be the truth." Fenton led his family to the chapel, where they could talk without being disturbed. Laura and Frank sat on a bench in stunned disbelief. By the time Dr. Bates came to tell them that Joe had been admitted and taken up to a room, they still hadn't come to terms with it.

Laura sat in a chair by her son's bedside, lightly rubbing his arm. His left wrist and forearm was wrapped in a cast and resting on a pillow. He still had the I.V. and NG tube, but the heart monitor leads had been removed. It had been hours, but Joe had yet to wake up. Laura's eyes were still red and puffy from crying. She had nearly fainted when she got a good look at her son.

Her brother was at the police station, in a jail cell. He'd been picked up for child endangerment. He was protesting his innocence and, unless Joe woke up soon and confirmed Frank's guilt, her brother would be released. She still wanted to believe that everyone was wrong. That someone else was responsible for what happened to Joe.

If her brother was responsible for this...she felt that she was to blame. It was her brother. Laura quickly wiped away the fresh tears when she felt movement in the bed. She watched as Joe slowly opened his eyes and looked around the room lethargically. He lifted his right arm and looked at the I.V. taped to the back of his hand. Reaching up, he felt the tube in his nose and seemed surprised to find it there.

"Joe, honey, you need to leave that alone. Dr. Bates said that if you eat well over the next day or so, he'll take it out."

"Mom? What are you doing here?" Looking around once more, Joe shot her a confused look. "What am I doing here?" As soon as the words left his mouth, the day's events caught up to him. He didn't really remember leaving the playground, though. He suddenly realizing that, if he was in the hospital, his secret was out. He'd ruined his brother's birthday after all.

"I'm sorry." He whispered regretfully.

Laura couldn't understand what Joe could possibly be sorry for. If anyone should apologize, it'd be her. "Sorry? Honey, what do you need to be sorry for?"

Plucking at his blanket, Joe shrugged. "I ruined Frank's birthday. I didn't mean to. I was going to wait 'til after to tell. I was going to go to the police station and tell somebody there. Maybe Chief Collig. I'd be safe at the police station. But...Uncle Frank...he...I...I made him spill his orange juice. It...it was an accident, but he...I was afraid...I just ran. I just wanted...I needed a place where he couldn't get me. I...I didn't mean to ruin Frank's birthday."

"You didn't."

Laura and Joe both turned at the new voice to see Frank standing in the door. He walked over and sat on the edge of Joe's bed, careful not to jostle his younger brother. "Joe, nobody is mad at you, or blames you for anything. None of this was your fault. I got the best birthday present anyone could give me."

Joe frowned, puzzled. "What, the computer?"

Laughing softly, Frank shook his head. "Not the computer. The best present I could get is knowing nothing like this will ever happen to my baby brother again."

Leaving the two brothers to talk, Laura got up and joined her husband who'd just stepped through the door. Slipping her arm around Fenton's waist, she sighed dejectedly. "You know, we spend our whole lives trying to keep danger away from our children. But...when danger landed on our doorstep...we opened the door and invited it in."

Seeing Joe smile at something Frank had said, Fenton gave his wife a quick hug. "We had no way of knowing. We weren't watching for danger to be disguised as a family member. I think he's going to be okay. He's got a lot of people who care about him, and we'll help him get past it."

Hearing Joe's soft chuckle, Frank thought that was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. "Tell ya what, little brother. In April, on your birthday, we'll throw you the biggest bash this town's ever seen. Deal?"

"Deal!" Joe reached out and shook his brother's hand, both careful not to disturb the IV line.

When the two started making outrageous plans, Fenton and Laura shared a smile and slipped from the room.

Frank smiled as he watched his parent leave. "I think we scared them off."

Closing his eyes when exhaustion once again caught up to him, Joe mumbled sleepily. "Well, ya know what they say...be afraid. Be very afraid."

Watching his brother drift to sleep, Frank smiled. Yep. This is the best birthday present ever, and I'll make sure nothing ever hurts him again.

Hidden Demons