"What are we doing here, Frank?" Joe whispered as they walked together down the corridor. The Bayport police station had become a second home to them since they'd gotten involved in solving mysteries and helped the police in numerous cases but they had never been personally involved in those cases before. Con Riley, a friend of theirs offered them a sympathetic smile from his desk and Frank nodded.

"Relax, Joe. We're here." Frank knocked on the last door to the right and waited patiently. Joe's eyes darted nervously around the deserted office. Though everyone looked preoccupied with his or her own work, Joe couldn't help feeling that he was being scrutinized. He'd caught people staring at him since they'd entered the building, some looking at him with sympathy, some with dread. Joe felt like a total stranger among the people he'd known since Fenton had first took the brothers here when he was still working for the police force. Feeling more than a little self-conscious Joe abruptly turned his head away, away from the stares and gazes. Stop looking at me, he thought angrily. Stop. Please.

Joe was saved from further embarrassment when the door opened. Detective Gore offered them a tight smile as he showed them in. "I'm glad you could come."

The Hardys sat at the chairs, listening intently as Gore explained about the evidence which will be used in court the next day. "Mr. Hall and his associate were supposed to meet us this morning but apparently he has some last minute preparations to do before tomorrow. But he has explained everything to me and..."

Frank nodded. Adam Hall was the prosecuting attorney in the trial.

"I'm sure you know the bug you used on Haydin cannot be used in court, Frank."

"I know," Frank said. That's a shame, he thought. That thing could have fried Haydin, but he had to accept it since the information from the bug had been obtained illegally. Frank threw a glance at his brother. Joe had kept quiet through the whole conversation, his face pale and tight with tension. Joe had begged to listen to the tape but Frank wouldn't let him.

"We're happy to inform you that the gun with which Haydin tried to kill Allan Gregory had been recovered and will be presented as Exhibit A. I know I'm not a lawyer but I can tell you this, with all the people testifying, including you, Joe, as key witness, I think we've got this guy."

"Unless-" Joe said quietly. "He pleads insanity."

An uncomfortable silence ensued. A thoughtful expression crossed Gore's face and opened his mouth to say something, looking back and forth between the two brothers. Then he closed it. Thenhe opened it again.

"I've granted permission to April Haydin to see you, Frank, before the trial."

"What?" Frank asked in disbelief.

"She wants to tell you something. That was the only thing she asked for in exchange for her testimony and she specifically asked for you," Gore said apologetically. "I'm sorry, Frank, but she is a key witness, and her testifying in court is very essential in order to win the case." He rummaged through his drawer and withdrew a piece of paper. "Here's the special court order for you to see her this afternoon." He turned to Joe. "And she's the only one who can testify that her father is not insane."

Numbly, Frank leaned back against his chair. He knew April Haydin was going to testify but he definitely didn't expect this. What could she possibly want now? Hasn't she done enough? Frank shook his head and was about to say 'No' when he felt a hand on his arm. Joe.

"Alright," Frank gave in reluctantly. April was indeed a valuable witness and without her testimony, there was a possibility that Haydin might go free. And that is never going to happen, Frank seethed inside. Over my dead body.

"Frank, could you leave me alone with Joe for a moment?" Frank raised his eyebrows. He threw Joe a questioning glance at his brother. Without meeting his eyes, Joe nodded his head. He whispered. "I'll be right with you."

"Okay." Frank stood up and hesitated a little bit before stepping out of the room.

After Frank was gone, Joe looked up at the detective, his eyes steady and unwavering.

"I take it your brother still doesn't know." Joe shook his head, still not saying a word.

"You do realize that it is going to cause a great shock when he finds out about this during the trial."

"Then what do you suggest, Detective?" Joe asked, his voice cold and hard. Then his icy demeanor faltered as Gore kept his steady gaze on the younger Hardy.

"Joe, I know this is hard for you-"

"You don't, Detective. You don't," Joe whispered, turning his face away. God, he wanted to get out of there. He wanted to be ANYWHERE but there. "You think you do, but you don't."

"Alright, Joe, I don't." Concern tinted the detective's voice. "Just-take care of yourself, alright?" Joe nodded and drew in a shaky breath. Come on, Joe, get a grip on yourself, he thought. Taking another deep breath, Joe cleared his throat and slowly rose.

"Good luck." Gore called out as Joe opened the door. Nodding once again without turning his head, Joe walked out of the office. Walking down the corridor, making sure he kept his head straight forward, he successfully avoided he perturbing stares and gazes this time. Joe joined his brother who was waiting by the van and Frank knew better than to ask what his brother and Gore had discussed in the room. Frank was afraid he would upset Joe further. Every single step around Joe right now was like walking on glass, fragile and shaky.

Frank threw a glance at his brother and frowned. Joe had looked a little pale when they left Gore's office, but now he was white as sheet and Frank could make out the beads of sweat on his forehead.

He reached out and touched Joe's arm. "Hey, are you alright?"

Joe wanted to say he was fine, but knowing Frank would never believe him, he just gave a shrug. His head had started hurting a little while after lunch and now it was pounding mercilessly. To top it all off, Joe felt sick to his stomach. Not that it's anything new, Joe thought bitterly. After the fateful night two months ago, Joe would never feel okay for the rest of his life,.

Still far from satisfied, Frank felt Joe's forehead. "You're running a temperature."

Joe shrugged again, saying nothing. His stomach roiled, sending bile to his throat but Joe swallowed hard, trying to keep from throwing up.

Frank decided to drop Joe off at home. At Joe's inevitable protest, Frank just shook his head, adamant. "No, you go straight up to bed. I can handle this alone."

Joe wanted to protest again but a sudden wave of nausea hit him, leaving him breathless.

"Pull over," he muttered through clenched teeth, his fingers tightly clutching his brother's arm as he fought to calm his stomach.

Frank pulled over the sidewalk and a few seconds later Joe was violently sick, throwing up what little he'd eaten for lunch. Frank' worry doubled when they had to stop again 10 minutes later. By the time Joe had finished throwing up, he was so weak Frank had to help him back to the van and Frank was seriously considering taking him to the hospital instead of dropping him off at home.

"Are you still nauseous?" Frank asked anxiously, studying his brother's face closely. Joe swallowed hard, his face an alarming shade of green.

"I don't feel so good," Joe mumbled, his eyelids drooping. When he opened his eyes again, his blue eyes were dazed and unfocused.

Frank was baffled. His brother seemed perfectly fine this morning. Suddenly Frank didn't feel like going to see April Haydin anymore. After what her father did to Joe, he didn't want to have anything to do with the family anymore. Except maybe murder didn't sound like a bad idea, Frank seethed as he pictured the ex-politician's face.

Quickly, Frank took Joe home and it took a lot of effort just to get Joe up the stairs. At last, Joe lay on his own bed, exhausted.

"Hi, Frank," April spoke into the mouthpiece tentatively. Ever since she woke up that morning she had been thinking about him. Hell, ever since she met Frank, she had been thinking about him. Even when her cellmate bullied her again into giving up her lunch, April did it without so much of a fight. Seeing him again sent shivers of excitement down her spine. That is until I'm sitting here with him, she thought glumly. There wasn't even a hint of a smile on his usually good-natured face.

Frank didn't say a word. He just kept glaring at her through the hard glass divider.

Please don't look at me like that, Frank, she pleaded. But she kept her thoughts to herself.

"How are you?"

"What do you want, April?" he said coldly. "Or is April even your real name?"

"Frank, please, I'm sorry-"

Frank barked a laugh. "A little too late for that."

"Frank, please listen to me. I didn't mean-" April's voice faltered. What could she say? Frank would never forgive her. "Please don't hate me, Frank."

"Hate you?" Frank's venom-filled eyes narrowed to slits. "After all you've done? You've destroyed my brother's life, April. You let your father do this to him and you're telling me not to hate you?"

April closed her eyes, swallowing hard to keep bile from rising to her throat. Frank's words were like needles jabbing into her heart, spiking and tearing up her inside.

"I don't just hate you, April. I despise you." Frank sighed and covered his face with a hand.

"Frank..." April's alarm grew when Frank's shoulders started to shake. Seeing me is hurting him as much as seeing him is hurting me, she thought, realizing that Frank was about to lose it. I shouldn't have asked him to come.

"Why, April?" Frank's whisper sounded distant in her ear, but intensified the moment it reached her brains.

"Frank, I'm sorry. I know nothing I'm going to say and do will ever make things better for you and your brother, let alone will ever make you forgive me. But I don't want forgiveness, Frank. I've long since given up hope that you would-but please believe me, Frank. If only I could turn back time, if only I could undo everything, I would." April didn't care if Frank was listening, she just wanted to get it all out, just wanted to let go of all the pain clinging to her heart.

"Frank, I love you." Frank froze and looked at her sharply. "I'll make amends, Frank. I promise you that."

"April-" April replaced the phone on its hook, kissed the tip of two of her fingers and touched the glass gently, smiling serenely at the gaping Frank. And when she walked out of the room, her heart felt so light she was practically floating.

Joe pushed away the blanket smothering him and tried to sit up, falling back heavily as he bit his lips to keep from crying out when his limbs screamed. Everything was on fire, every muscle in his body was cramped. His stomach hurt the most.

He curled on his side, drawing his knees up to his chest, trying to relieve some of the pain. Cramped muscles groaned again in protest. I can't take this anymore, he thought as he hugged himself through the agony. Joe thought about taking another painkiller but if he took another one so soon, he was definitely going to OD. Not that dying didn't sound like a good alternative.

Is this how it's going to be for the rest of my miserable, short life? He thought, as another spasm of pain racked through his body. Will I ever be free from this pain? He tried to flex the muscles in his fingers. Even that hurt.

Just ride it out, Joe, he told himself. Let go of the pain. It'll pass eventually. But it didn't. Joe buried his face against the pillow to stifle a groan as his abdominal muscles cramped. He couldn't believe how bad he was hurting. Never before in his life had he ever experienced pain like this.

I can't stand this anymore, he thought and biting his lips to prevent from screaming, he reached out a trembling hand ad pulled open the last drawer by his bed. Pain ran up his arm like a bolt of electricity, every muscle contracting and protesting at the slightest of movement. Groping blindly, at last his fingers rested on a small bottle. Popping it open, Joe hastily gulped down a tablet and lay back, exhausted, sweat pouring down his face and sticking his shirt to his body.

Joe's breaths evened out at last, and he sighed at the sudden relief. He had been in constant pain lately and he knew the pain would get worse day by day. Oh God, please give me strength, Joe prayed. Drowsiness, drug and exhaustion from long hours of pain conspired together to bring him under. Sleep came swift and Joe willingly slipped into darkness, hoping for temporary relief, knowing full well when he woke up, he would have to go through the same thing again.

Pain R