Frank Hardy drew in a long breath and blinked his eyes open. He had expected to be in his own bed, in his familiar room at home, but the white walls that met his gaze were certainly not those of his room – although they were disquietingly familiar. A hospital? Why am I in a hospital?

He started to turn his head – and stopped with a hiss at the pain which seared through his neck at his first attempt to move. What happened to me?

"Frank?" a voice said, off to his right. Very gingerly, Frank managed to turn toward the voice; he beheld his father sitting beside the bed.

"Dad?" Frank blinked, confused. "What’s going on? Why am I here…? Why are you here?"

"What do you remember?" Fenton countered. "And how are you feeling?"

Frank silently assessed himself for a few seconds. "Rotten," he admitted finally. "I hurt all over – especially my neck. And the last thing I remember is…taking off from Toronto – my God, the plane!" He jerked upright, but flinched and fell back against the pillow; Fenton quickly put out a hand to restrain him. "Dad – did I crash the plane? What happened to Joe and April?" he demanded.

"Frank – Frank, take it easy, son." his father soothed him. "It’s all right…you didn’t crash the plane, and Joe and April are fine; I made them go home to get some rest, otherwise they would both have been here with you now."

"April – managed to fly the plane – and land it? And what happened to me? I – everything’s confused, but I remember being dizzy…."

Mr. Hardy grinned boyishly. "April didn’t fly the plane – well, not all the time – or land it – Joe did."

"Joe?" Frank’s voice rose into a squeak of disbelief. "Joe landed it?"

"And you, son, drank coffee that had been intended for Jack Wayne – and suffered the consequences. It was laced with GHB."

"GHB?" Frank inquired faintly. He was still trying to assimilate the information that his younger brother had flown and landed Jack’s plane – apparently without mishap. "What’s that?"

"Gamma-hydroxybutyrate." Fenton elaborated. "One of several tasteless, odorless substances that are occasionally dropped into drinks. They have a nickname – "

" ‘Date-rape’ drugs," Frank whispered, his cheeks flaming. "I was given one of those?"

His father nodded. "You were indeed. But the reason you’re so sore is because of the jolting and jouncing you took during the flight. Joe tried to strap you in securely after you passed out, but he couldn’t keep you from being thrown around some."

"Thrown around….?" Frank didn’t complete his question, but Fenton seemed to understand.

"Bad weather – do you remember a storm was brewing?"

Frank managed a small nod, and his father continued. "Apparently, April was able to fly until they encountered the thunderstorm; then Joe had to take over, and had to get the plane down on the runway, under her instruction. Lots of turbulence, I understand. A rough flight and a bouncy landing." Mr. Hardy’s lips were twitching with amusement. "You took the worst of it, since you were unable to brace yourself."

"Why was there GHB in Jack’s coffee? Who put it there? What time is it? How long have I been out?" Frank tried again to push himself to a sitting position, and once more Fenton moved to hold him still.

"Whoa, son. If you want to sit up, do it the easy way. Don’t struggle with it." Fenton indicated the control panel on the bed, and Frank sheepishly pressed the button to raise the head of the bed. When he was sitting nearly upright, he repeated his questions.

Fenton looked at his wristwatch, and also glanced at the windows, where sunshine streamed in. "It’s just after eleven o’clock, Saturday morning. You’ve been unconscious for approximately ten hours."

"Why was Jack’s coffee laced with – with a date-rape drug? Did Deke and Ernie do that? It doesn’t make any sense; what if Jack had passed out when they were on the plane?"

"Deke and Ernie didn’t have anything to do with the coffee. Brace yourself for a revelation, Frank – remember our "X" factor? Our Mr. "X" was none other than Roger Taylor, the DEA agent."

"What?" Frank’s jaw dropped. "Roger Taylor? I don’t believe…well, hang on a minute….Hmmm…Roger…maybe that’s not so surprising. I always felt there was something odd about him, but….You’re sure?"

"Oh, very sure." Mr. Hardy affirmed. "He’s confessed to the police now, but he told Joe about it first."

"Joe?" Frank suppressed an irrational stab of jealousy. His brain felt foggy as he attempted to assimilate the news. Joe landed the plane…Joe caught Roger Taylor…. I feel like excess baggage! Still…good for Joe! "How? Why?" He gently let his aching head back onto his pillow. "Tell me, Dad, please – but slowly, okay? I feel like my mind’s been stuffed with foam packing peanuts coated in syrup."

His father smiled sympathetically. "You’ll feel better in a little while; the doctor said you shouldn’t have any aftereffects from what you ingested. But they gave you some pain medication for the whiplash, and that’s probably affecting you. Let’s see, to begin at the beginning:" He settled himself more comfortably in the chair. "Roger Taylor was indeed a DEA agent, but he had a hobby on the side of selling drugs – drugs that he picked up in line of duty and then made substitutions for." The detective looked disgusted. "He had switched the original packages of cocaine that were on Jack’s plane – the one that went down with April aboard – for baby powder; you know about that already, of course."

Frank started to nod, then winced and desisted. "Yeah," he muttered.

"When the second sting operation was set up for last night, he supplied the bricks of cocaine as he was supposed to, but his intention all along was to (a) switch them after Deke and Ernie were busted; and somehow manage to implicate Jack; or (b) if Deke and Ernie used Jack and his plane to make their escape, Roger wanted to make Jack crash the plane, so that he, Roger, could retrieve the stash and make another switch. Or maybe he was going to simply cut his losses and disappear, this time. Roger made the call to Deke and Ernie, warning them that Jack was setting them up, and suggesting that they find quick transportation out of the country; and he hit me over the head when we were waiting for them to arrive. He doped the coffee in Jack’s coffee maker, on the off chance that Jack would fill his thermos and drink some of it. Fortunately, Jack didn’t. Unfortunately, you did."

Frank listened in stunned amazement. "How did Joe find out?" he queried.

"Roger met your plane when it landed, and asked Joe about the cocaine bricks. A little later, April mentioned to Joe that she’d seen Roger go into her plane right before she took off; she assumed it was something to do with the sting operation, since Joe told her Roger was an agent – but Joe remembered what you told him – that Roger wasn’t there when April left. He started putting two and two together, chased after Roger, and confronted him, at the Wayne’s World hangar. Roger pulled a gun on him—"

"A gun? – ouch!" Frank jerked upright again, then sank back. "But Joe’s okay?"

"—he’s fine…well, bruised and pretty sore, actually, but he’ll recover." Fenton assured him. "Joe managed to knock the gun away from Taylor; they fought, and Joe got the worst of it, I’m afraid. Thank the Lord, April was there." A grin crinkled Fenton’s dark eyes making him look very much like his elder son. "She hit Roger on the head with a wrench and knocked him cold."

"April?" Joe and April solved this whole case! One thing after another—Joe and April! Joe puts the clues together; April socks the bad guy over the head with a wrench…. Frank sighed inwardly. "I guess I missed a lot, huh?" Well, if I hadn’t told Joe that Roger said he wasn’t there when April left…. He felt slightly better, considering this.

"Taylor’s actually a patient in the hospital too," Mr. Hardy continued. "April gave him a severe concussion. He regained consciousness and confessed, but he’s not in great shape at the moment. He’s under guard, and as soon as he’s somewhat recovered, he’ll be taken to prison."

"When did you get here?" Frank inquired. "Did Jack fly you back?"

"About four hours ago. When Joe called to tell us what had happened, Jack wanted to fly back from Toronto immediately, but he was really in no condition to do anything like that, and I overruled him. He was still recovering from that knock on the head he took, and the pepper spray the Canadian police officer used on him. So I caught the first available commercial flight." Fenton smiled reassuringly at Frank. "Your mother was here, along with April and Joe, but when I arrived, I sent all three of them home. April talked to Jack, and assured him she was all right, when Joe first called." He began to laugh. "She informed him that she’d saved Joe’s life and captured a criminal – and I thought Jack was going to burst an artery! He didn’t know whether to be proud of her, or angry with her, or terrified for her! He finally settled for going back to sleep. He’ll fly down here this afternoon, after he’s given his statement to Chief Fantino."

"When can I get out of here?" Frank moved restlessly in the bed. He wanted to see Joe, and to hear first-hand all the details of the previous night…including the story of the airplane flight and landing!

Mr. Hardy rose to his feet. "I’ll tell the nurses you’re awake; perhaps they can locate your doctor. I expect you’ll get an all-clear to leave very soon."

The prediction was correct: Frank was released within an hour. When he walked into the lobby, he was delighted to spot a small figure with coppery hair waiting there: Megan, who leaped from her chair and ran to hug him tightly.

"Hey, babe…." Frank held her close, reveling in the feeling of having her in his arms despite his aches and pains.

"Megan, I didn’t realize you were here!" Fenton exclaimed. "You certainly could have come and seen Frank!"

"It’s all right; I just got here a few minutes ago," she replied. "and the nurses told me he was checking out soon anyway. So I just waited."

Mr. Hardy gave the two a keen glance and smiled indulgently. "I think I just became a fifth wheel," he murmured. "I assume you’ll bring Frank home soon, Megan?"

She blushed, but nodded. "Right away, Mr. Hardy. Come on, you—" she surveyed Frank critically, noting the foam cervical collar he was wearing. "—you’re going straight home where you can rest." She started for the exit, tugging on his hand.

"If there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s bossy women." Frank declared, and pulled her back into his embrace. His father chuckled, shook his head, and headed for the door.

Upon reaching the Hardy home, Frank found himself cosseted and fussed over by both Laura and Megan; Fenton wisely absented himself from the room, and apparently Joe and April were still sound asleep. Frank settled himself on the family room sofa, feebly protesting that he needed no special attention, but appreciating the care lavished upon him, nevertheless.

"Do you think Joe will wake up soon?" he asked hopefully as Laura handed him a glass of juice.

"Probably not for several hours," was the disappointing reply. "Remember, he was up all night."

While I slept through all the excitement! Frank thought ruefully. He took Megan’s hand for comfort, and she squeezed it, sensing his mood. She leaned close and kissed his cheek.

"You and Joe and April all need to rest, Frank." she said softly. "Your mom asked me to come for dinner, but I think I should go home for awhile first." Red-gold curls rested against his shoulder for a moment, then Megan got to her feet and gently freed her hand. "I’ll be back at five or so…okay?"

Unable to come up with a convincing argument, Frank glumly let her depart.

*****

Made drowsy by the pain medication he had been given at the hospital, Frank dozed through much of the afternoon. He was awakened around four, by the sound of a familiar voice.

"Frank. Hey, Frank!"

"Huh…?" Frank opened his eyes and gazed into his brother’s face. "Joe!" Suddenly wide-awake, Frank pushed himself onto an elbow.

"Are you all right?" Both of them said the words together, then burst into laughter.

Frank’s keen eyes noted Joe’s involuntary wince, however; and he saw purplish bruise marks on his throat.

"What happened to you?" the elder boy demanded.

"Roger Taylor fights dirty," Joe said grimly. "He damn near choked me to death. He would have, too, if April hadn’t been there." He grinned reminiscently. "April – she saved both our hides, big brother. I couldn’t have brought that plane down without her, and Roger Taylor would have killed me. He was going to just shoot me, and then later on he almost strangled me – and both times I have April Wayne to thank for tipping the scales in my favor."

"Tell me about the plane!" Frank demanded.

Joe dropped to a seat on the floor, beside the couch, and began relating the story of the previous night’s harrowing, hazardous flight. Frank listened, his mouth dropping open in amazement at some of the things Joe told him.

"I really thought we were goners when it was time to land that freaking plane!" the younger Hardy admitted. "But somehow I got it onto the ground, and stopped." He paused in his tale, and studied his brother’s face. "I was really worried about you. I mean – I figured you’d be okay from the knockout stuff, but I was afraid the bouncing around would break something vital – like your neck!"

Frank gingerly rubbed the back of his neck. "I think you came closer than I’d like to admit! I’ll never scoff at people who say they have whiplash, never again! Now I know what it feels like, and it’s no fun at all."

"How long do you have to wear the cute collar?" Joe teased him, eyeing the plump foam device. Frank grimaced.

"For a couple of days, I guess. The doctor said ‘until turning your head is no longer painful,’ but that’s not a lot to go on. I’m hoping maybe by Monday I won’t have to keep it on."

Joe groaned theatrically. "Monday! School!"

"School sounds nice and restful, compared to this past week," his older brother observed, and they both laughed.

"It certainly does," a new voice said. The Hardys looked for the source, and beheld April, who stood smiling at them from the doorway. "I know I’m ready to go back, and I’ll be happy to be bored to tears by Mr. Norwich’s interpretations of U.S. history." She approached the couch. "How are you feeling, both of you?"

"We’ll live," Frank replied. "What about you?"

"I’m fine. I’m the only one who didn’t have anything traumatic happen to me last night, remember?"

"No, you did it last Monday." Joe retorted.

At that moment, the doorbell rang. April gestured for the boys to remain where they were, and went into the front hall to answer it. From the family room, Frank and Joe heard her shriek:

"Jack!"

"April, damn it all, you scared me outta my wits!" her brother bellowed. The Hardys hurriedly made their way to the hall, and beheld Jack Wayne hugging his sister tightly.

"Jack, not so hard!" she protested, and he immediately loosened his embrace. Catching sight of Frank and Joe, the pilot moved to wrap his arms about each of them in turn.

"Frank – Joe – you guys, what can I say….? You pulled it off, somehow – I have so much to thank you for….And you both could’ve died because of me….damn, I’m sorry!"

"It’s okay, Jack," Frank attempted to reassure their friend. "We’re just glad it all worked out. And we have April to thank for it." he added, smiling at the young girl, who blushed.

"April, do you want to come home now?" Jack asked hesitantly. "I know you’re still sort of handicapped with your broken arm, but the danger’s over – and I’d like you home."

"After dinner," Laura Hardy called from the kitchen, before April could reply. She came into the hall, continuing to speak. "Jack, you’re invited too; we’ll stretch what there is by tossing in another mouse or two. And then we’ll let April leave – but we’ll miss her!" She put an affectionate arm about April. "It’s not often I get a girl to fuss over!"