"Joe?" Vanessa asked him. She sensed how worried he was, and she had to admit that she wasn’t exactly feeling confidant about everything.

Joe turned to her, a frown on his face. "Yeah?" he asked.

"What do you want to do, honey? I mean, we’ve tried their phones the whole time. Callie’s keeps going to voicemail, and Frank’s isn’t even picking up at all now. The people at the museum said that Jenna was still supposed to be working, but no one’s seen her for almost two hours. I’m getting worried! Should we check around here, or go back to the hotel? I mean, they DID say that they’d meet us there soon." As Vanessa spoke, she tried to make her voice remain calm for Joe’s sake. This was terrible. They knew Jenna was connected to their case somehow, and that a big target of national importance was going to be hit soon. That, on top of the fact that Callie and Frank suspected something was going on with the U.S. Mints, was getting her very worried.

Joe shrugged, and reached out for Vanessa’s hand. He gave it a quick squeeze. "I don’t know," he said remorsefully. "I guess we should go back." He hesitated.

Vanessa picked up on it right away. "But you’d like to check around here first, right?" she interrupted. "That’s fine, Joe. I mean, Callie and Frank had to have been here. If there was something wrong, maybe they left evidence behind; you know, a clue of some sort."

Joe smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Van. I WOULD like to check it out, if it’s okay with you," he said.

"Of course. Joe?" Vanessa questioned him, releasing his hand and slipping her arm around his waist.

He turned to her, curious.

"I just… let’s make sure we’re not reading too deeply into this. It could be a perfectly harmless little crush that Jenna has on Frank, and maybe she really doesn’t have anything to do with this," she added, hoping to make him feel better.

Joe gave her a quick hug as they walked. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up," he replied, still worried. "But you know as well as I do that she does have something to do with it. It’s too much of a coincidence, especially when we found out from Frank how she went to all the trouble to pay that Dave guy off. I mean, where does a 23- year -old get that type of money? From dad, of course," he responded, answering his own question. They were making their way around the building.

"Do you think he’s involved?" Vanessa asked Joe.

"I don’t know. I doubt it. What do you think? You know him better than I do," Joe replied, continuing to look around the premises.

Vanessa paused to think as she, too, looked around. They had headed to the back area, a lovely, isolated spot near a lake. Finally, she answered him. "Maybe I misjudged him, Joe, but I don’t think so. Honestly, I’m surprised he got involved- he probably just got suckered into Jenna’s game," she said angrily. "Anyway," she went on, "I kind of liked him. He really DID seem nice, and I think his interest in Callie was genuine. You can’t fake that sort of thing." She stopped talking when she noticed that Joe had wandered way off, and was kneeling down in the distance. She hurried to catch up to him, and noticed he was kneeling on the ground next to what looked to be a relatively deserted side street. She wondered how he had gone that far that quickly.

"Joe?" she asked, walking towards him. "What is it? What did you find?"

When Joe stood up again, his face was pale. He turned to Vanessa and held out an object in his hands. "Something’s wrong," he said, hoarsely. "Look. These are Callie’s glasses."

Vanessa swallowed, hard, as Joe’s words finally hit her. "Oh," was all she could mutter.

Joe took a deep breath. Be calm, he willed himself. They can’t have gotten that far. Frank can take care of himself. But even as he thought these things, he felt a chill run through him, knowing that if he had found Callie’s glasses, then Frank probably couldn’t have protected both himself AND Callie from whomever had taken them. It only took him another minute to notice fresh tire tracks, as if a car had spun away quickly.

Finally, Joe turned to Vanessa. "Van," he said, determined, "we need to go to the police right away. Actually, I do. I need to tell them about the Mints and our suspicions about White House and the Supreme Court. I also have to tell them about Frank and Callie. Whatever’s going on is gonna happen soon, and that means they’re in serious trouble." He could feel his heart start beating faster as he spoke.

"What do you want me to do?" Vanessa asked, knowing now was not he time to argue with Joe. If he wanted to go to the police alone, she new there was a reason for it.

"I want you to see what you can find out about any of the U.S. Mints, and whether there has been a robbery lately, or some sort of problem. I also…" Joe paused, and choked out his next words, "want you to keep checking any reports of people to emergency rooms in the area. And…" he couldn’t go on, and turned away.

Vanessa felt like crying. And the morgues, she thought silently.

Instantly, she reached for Joe, and hugged him tightly, letting him cling to her for support. "I will," she whispered.

With a final nod of thanks, and another hug, Joe turned away from his girlfriend, knowing that somehow he had to find his brother and Callie. He just prayed he wasn’t too late.

Frank Hardy weakly opened his eyes, totally confused about where he was. "Ugh," he moaned, as he realized, slowly, the he was on something cold and hard. It took him another moment to realize that he was lying vertically on a staircase. All of a sudden, the memories came flashing back at him as he realized what had happened, and he couldn’t believe he was actually alive.

As he tried to sit up, a wave of pain ripped through his body that was so intense that he almost passed out again. He breathed deeply for a moment, and tried to get his bearings. He managed to turn toward the source of his pain, and noticed immediately that his shoulder and neck were covered in blood, and he was still bleeding. It hurt to even look at it, as he could barely move his neck. Still he did it again, and tried not to panic. He couldn’t move his arm, but he realized that at least he still HAD an arm and a shoulder. Frank reached up with his right arm to touch his neck, and noticed that he hadn’t been hit there. Still, his shoulder throbbed and he felt…so weak…

He closed his eyes, willing the darkness to encircle him and to take away the pain.

Callie! Frank opened his eyes at once and felt his heart pound in his chest. Where was she?! She was torn from his arms. He had seen her being pushed. The look of terror in her eyes…

As he sat up, a cry of intense pain escaped his lips, and he became woozy, the world swimming for an instant in front of him. Still, he didn’t care. He didn’t care about himself, or the case, or Jenna, or WHY she had done what she did. He didn’t care about her nonsensical words, or the fact that moving was making him even struggle to stay conscious. All he cared about was finding Callie. As Frank pushed himself slowly down the stairs, he gripped the banister intently with his right hand to keep from falling down. He could barely stand up, so he didn’t try. Instead, he slid down stair by stair, desperate to find Callie; dreading what he might find.

There was little light, but enough for Frank to be able to see. As he slid down slowly, he squinted, trying to find Callie, fighting off the light-headedness he was feeling, and trying, unsuccessfully, to ignore the intense pain in his shoulder, which felt like it was on fire. Please God, Please God, he kept repeating to himself. Callie had to be okay. The idea that she wouldn’t be literally didn’t even cross Frank’s mind. Without that hope, he’d give up. He needed to have something to live for here, to make it through this.

Before he saw her, Frank heard her. The voice seemed a million miles away, but there it was. He felt his heart skip a beat and his blood run cold. Callie’s voice, so far away, was a soft whimper, barely discernable. He fought with all his strength to get to her quickly and, as he approached, he heard her voice louder, and realized, in horror, that she appeared to be crying out softly in agony. He couldn’t see her yet, but he already felt tears slip from his burning eyes. At least she’s alive, he had to tell himself, although he found no comfort or solace in his thoughts.

Finally, at long last, Frank saw her as he reached the bottom of the stairs. She was slightly off to one side, on her back. She was moving her neck back and forth and crying. It looked like she wanted to scream, but… couldn’t. Frank pushed himself off the stairs and crawled forward to her, using his right arm as a crutch. He made it to her side, and gently touched her cheek with a trembling hand. God, she’s so white… shaking so much…and her soft cries. It was too much for Frank, who felt like he was going to give into his overwhelming sorrow and pain any minute.

"Callie," he whispered to her, trying to focus.

Callie opened her eyes and saw Frank. Or was it? Never… never in her whole life- not with her migraine headaches, not in any sports injuries- had she ever felt pain as intense as this. It consumed her. Why… why couldn’t she pass out? She really wished she HAD died. How long had she been here? God, make it stop, she pleaded silently. But she received no answer.

"Callie," she heard the voice again, forcing her to the present, out of the hazy mist of pain. She felt him touch her face.

Again, she heard her name, and finally was able to focus on Frank’s face. "Frank," she tried to say, but even to her own ears it came out like a moan.

"I’m here," he said softly back, and kissed her forehead. She could still barely make him out, as he came in and out of focus. She felt him take her hand, and started to involuntarily cry harder, although with each sob, her body screamed in pain for her to stop. Still, she squeezed his hand back, forcing herself to focus her pain. Then, she realized that she had to pull it together. She needed help. Frank was here. He was alive.

"Callie." She heard Frank’s voice again, and hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes. Weakly, she opened them, and tried to control her breathing. As soon as she could focus on Frank, she gasped, and then cried out in pain. She felt Frank squeezing her hand tightly, and saw the tears running down his face. Must be brave, she willed herself. She wondered how bad she must look.

"You’re hurt," she whispered to him, looking at his shoulder.

"I’m okay," he said softly back to her, brushing back tears from her face.

"Liar," she whispered through gritted teeth.

In another situation, Frank would have laughed at that, but there was nothing remotely funny about this. He hoped to God he could stay awake long enough to help Callie. He HAD to do it. He looked down at Callie, and saw the anguish on her face. What frightened him the most, though, was that he saw no blood. He could only imagine how bad her internal injuries must be.

"What hurts?" he managed to get out.

"What doesn’t?" Callie asked, fighting back another wave of pain.

Frank covered his face with his good hand and tried to compose himself. What was he going to do? He had no idea where they were. He knew he was losing a lot of blood, pain aside. And Callie… he couldn’t watch her like this. He really couldn’t. It was like living in a nightmare, but it was REAL. Suddenly, he felt her touch his arm with a trembling hand.

"I’ll be all right," she said softly, meeting his eyes. "We’ll get out of this."

"Can you breathe okay?" he asked her, trying to get as much information as he could from her to try something- anything- to take away some of her pain.

She nodded, slowly, as she held Frank’s hand. "There are three problems," she whimpered.

"Go ahead," he said, feeling the tears in his eyes again.

"My head hurts, but that’s okay. It’s probably a small concussion or just a bad bump."

Frank smiled through his tears. "Self -diagnosis, huh?" he asked, trying to hold himself together.

"Shut up," Callie whispered with the faintest trace of a smile on her pale face.

"Keep going," Frank prodded, desperately trying to keep her awake and talking.

"My wrist kind of hurts. I think it was the way I landed," she said, weakly.

Frank looked at Callie’s left wrist and noticed how swollen it was. Gingerly, he touched it and heard Callie suppress a cry. He felt right away that it was broken, and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"On the bright side, I think I prevented myself from breaking my neck," she said, and managed a small wink.

"Oh, Callie," Frank whispered. Only she could find a bright side in this predicament. He shifted over and almost passed out again. He saw how heavily he was bleeding, and things began to seem bleaker than ever.

"Is that all?" Frank asked her, knowing it wasn’t.

"I really, really hurt my back," she said at last. She had to pause as the pain almost overwhelmed her for a moment. She didn’t want to scare Frank, but that was her major injury, and she knew it.

"Can you feel your legs?" Frank asked, feeling like a robot. He’d lose it soon; he knew he couldn’t watch Callie go through this.

"Yeah," Callie said with a small smile. "I’m not paralyzed, don’t worry. Although they have some nice wheelchairs now a days," she said lightly, trying to comfort him.

"Don’t even joke!" Frank choked out. He couldn’t believe Callie was holding it together better than he was.

As he looked at her through tear- filled eyes, a thousand emotions went through him. HE had gotten her into this. Callie had said to leave it alone with Jenna! She wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t entertained thoughts of being with Jenna to begin with. And Callie- God, she didn’t deserve this. She had been through so much pain already, and had overcome so many obstacles with an unbelievably positive attitude and amazing strength and grace. He knew, at that moment, that IF she made it through this, and IF he did, which he was beginning to doubt, that he couldn’t be with her any more. He wouldn’t allow himself to cause her any more pain in her life. He loved her too deeply for that.

"I’m so sorry I…" he whispered, unable to complete his thought. He lay down on the floor next to her, weakness finally overcoming his, and he struggled to hold onto consciousness.

"You’re sorry you what?" Callie managed, looking at him through her own tears, hating to see him hurting over what looked to be a pretty bad injury.

Frank looked at her weakly and he knew what to say. "I’m sorry I couldn’t hold onto you," he whispered, knowing full well the double meaning to his words. He rested his head on her shoulder, unable to lift himself up, wanting to comfort Callie, but unable to move her.

Callie reached out to him with her good hand and touched his face as he passed out at last. "I think we both need to hold on, somehow, buddy," she whispered as tears ran down her face.

Lost in her own pain and consumed with worry about Frank, she barely noticed when the door opened from above….

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