"Move, move, move!!!" Gore barked orders at his men and he kept his eyes locked on the sleek white sailboat as they scrambled in various directions, each armed and ready. The moment Frank set his eyes on the private boat, he knew they'd hit the jackpot. He could feel it. Frank watched tensely as the Annabelle swayed in the gentle sea breeze.

There was no sign of Haydin anywhere and for a while, Frank felt a pang of disappointment, refusing to believe that they'd been led on a wild-goose chase.

"There he is!!!" someone shouted, and Frank's heart raced when he saw a man climbing down the Annabelle and jumped off, rolling a few times before scrambling to his feet. It was unmistakable. It was Haydin, and he was running away. "Stop him!!!"

I am not going to let him get away this time, Frank thought grimly as he broke into a run, Haydin a few feet in front of him. Haydin turned around a little and when he saw Frank chasing him, the expression on his face turned into one of fear and he immediately put on more speed, putting more distance between him and Frank, the other police officers close behind them.

His lungs burning and his muscles screaming, Frank kept pushing on, running faster and faster, inching closer and closer until he was a mere feet away behind Haydin. The older man was no match for him. With a fresh burst of energy, Frank lunged, tackling him around the waist, sending both of them sprawling onto the hard cement ground. Frank grunted but though Haydin was fast to recover, he was faster. In a second Frank was on top of him, pinning him down.

"There's only one thing that's keeping me from killing you right now," Frank growled, slamming Haydin to the ground for emphasis. "Tell me what I want to know. Tell me the trigger."

Haydin stared up at Frank Hardy, whose face was inches from his. He was aware of running footsteps he knew belonged to the police. Hatred flared in his eyes as he looked up to the face of the person who had ruined everything. "Why should I?" He smiled. "Tell me, Frank Hardy, how is your brother doing?"

"What's the trigger?!" Frank shouted, too furious too even care about hands restraining him from behind. He cocked back a fist and before Gore could stop it, Frank's fist swooped down and broke Haydin's nose with a punch. "Tell me!!!" But before Frank could hit him again, two police officers grabbed his arms and wrenched him off Haydin. Frank struggled, trying to break free. I'm going to wipe that smile off his face! He raged. "You're dead, Haydin. Dead!!"

But Haydin kept his smile. Even when the cop read him his Miranda he was smiling. I still win, Frank Hardy, he thought as they handcuffed him and led him to the police cruiser. Before he got into the car, Haydin turned around a little. "You wanna know what the trigger is, Frank Hardy? You're looking for it the wrong way. And now you'll never save your brother." With the last strange words he threw Frank a knowing smile. Frank was visibly shaking with anger but there was nothing he could do but watch him go.

Joe was confused. He curled up into a ball and huddled against the wall, hugging himself as he darted his eyes back and forth wildly. He knew he was alone in the house but he didn't feel alone. Someone's watching me, he thought, fear mixed with uncertainty nagging at the back of his mind, demanding his attention. Since Frank had left earlier, he had felt a presence, like someone was standing right behind him. But when he turned around, he felt it in front of him. And right now, the presence was so strong Joe felt like crying.

What did he mean the wrong way? Frank wondered as he walked back to the van, his body still numb with anger. Then what is the right way of finding out what the trigger is? Frank's mind raced furiously but still he couldn't come up with any answers.

And that I'll never save Joe now? What did he mean by that? Frank was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize he had driven off his lane, nearly colliding with a sedan but loud, angry honks jolted him back to reality. Frank was thrown forward, his seatbelt the only thing saving him from the natural disaster that only inertia could bring as he stepped on the emergency brake. Tapes and CDs and his cell phone fell out of their compartments and crashed to the floor. His heart racing, Frank pulled the van over. Calm down, Frank, calm down, he told himself as he took a couple of deep breaths.

After a few minutes, Frank bent down to pick up the fallen tapes from the floor. Frank froze as he picked up the last tape. Frank recognized it as the one in which Joe had recorded Vanessa singing during their first practice together. Joe had hidden a tape recorder in his jacket and had secretly taped her.

Tape recorder! As if on impulse, Frank ignited the engine, threw the van into gear and with a squeal, he cut in sharp to the right into the flow of traffic, once again inviting loud, blaring honks from vehicles all around him, but this time Frank didn't give a damn.

Frank, come home, Joe telepathically pleaded to his brother. He couldn't take it anymore. At first he only felt it, but now he could HEAR it. Strange noises, muffled voices, low at first, but getting louder and louder by the second. Joe left the corner he'd sought refugee at for so long and jumped into his bed, pulling his blanket over his head with one quick tug. His heart pounding painfully, he reached out a trembling hand to grab his pillow and pressed it against his face and ears. Stop it, he commanded the voices to stop but still he heard them. He couldn't make out the words, but he wasn't that crazy to either. He just wanted them to stop. Frank, where are you? He wept inside. I'm scared.

"Play that again," Frank commanded, his face set with determination. Phil nodded and pressed on Rewind. After a while, he stabbed the Play button.

"-do that my darling?"

"No," Joe said weakly. "Frank would never leave me. He'll come and get me. You'll see."

"But nobody knows you're here, Joe. You two, out of here." The sound of a slamming door. "Now, it's just you and me here, Joe."

Then a long pause. There, that's the pause. Haydin was hypnotizing him at this moment, Frank thought and turned up the volume.

Then Haydin started to speak. "Joe."

A low groan, and then silence. "Yes."

Damn, Frank cursed as he pressed on Stop. He put it on Rewind again. I missed that, it was too fast, he thought. The moment Frank saw the tape he remembered the bug he'd placed on Haydin's handkerchief. Frank also remembered that Haydin had hypnotized Allan Gregory using sign language. Somehow Frank had a feeling that in Joe's case it wasn't any different. He stabbed on Play.

"Now, it's just you and me here, Joe."

At that very moment, Frank cranked up the volume as high as it would go.

Joe dragged himself to the bathroom. He had tried everything, he'd tried cranking up the stereo, tried to sleep, tried turning up the volume on the TV, tried singing at the top of his lungs but he couldn't deaden the rising voices in his head. And what was worse, the voices had gotten louder and now he could hear every single word.

You're dirty. You're more than dirty. You're DISGUSTING.

Joe stared at himself in the mirror. The young man staring back at him was not Joe Hardy. Joe Hardy would never look this thin, this haggard, this DIRTY, he thought as he reached out a shaky hand and touched the mirror, as if trying to touch himself.

How can Vanessa look at you now? How can ANYONE look at you now?

Joe swallowed hard and his eyes misted at the thought of Vanessa. He could never face Vanessa now, not after what happened. Vanessa deserved someone better. She's so full of purity, he thought, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

Hell is the only place for you now, Joe Hardy. You don't belong here. You don't belong with these people anymore. You will NEVER belong here.

Frank held his breath, his whole body rigid with suspense. The silence was deafening. Please, he begged, please say something, do something, anything. Then at long last, God answered his prayers. Just when Frank thought that it was hopeless, he heard an imperceptible sound from the speakers.

He met Phil's eyes and he leaned closer to the speakers. There was the sound again, so faint it was impossible to hear it before. But now, on full volume, it was as clear as a bell. Then there was the sound again. Frank's breath whooshed out of him.

"Joe." Haydin was saying.

"Yes." Joe said in his trance.

Frank turned to Phil, a big grin on his face. "I know what the trigger is."

Joe squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears trailing down his face. They were roaring in his head now. He felt as if someone had turned on the stereo full blast in his head but he knew no one had. The voices were screaming now, yelling and shouting, ricocheting in his skull. I'm going crazy, he realized, and pressed his hands against his temples as he swayed in the bathroom.

DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE

He opened his eyes and stared at the colorful bathroom floor tiles through blurry vision. The whole world was tilting, the colors mashing together in a dizzying jumble of rainbows. His heart was pounding so hard against his ribcage Joe couldn't breathe.

If you can't take it anymore, kill yourself.

"What?" Joe whispered breathlessly.

Kill yourself.

As if on its own will, Joe's hand snaked out and closed around the razorblade the Hardys kept in a glass container by the sink. In horror, Joe watched as his hand gripped the sharp edge and felt the sharp pain as the blade sliced into his palm. Dark, red blood dripped to the floor. I'm not doing this, Joe thought numbly, someone's taken over my body.

Kill yourself.

Joe watched in fascination as his hand placed the razorblade against his wrist. The blue and green veins stood out in stark contrast against his white skin and gleefully, he slowly pulled the deadly blade across his wrist. Then everything went black.

Pain PG