By the time Frank Hardy reached his Elm Street home, he was irritated, annoyed, and rapidly working his way up to a major snit. His usually laid-back personality was being overwhelmed by ire directed at his younger brother.

Frank stomped into the house and shut the door behind him with unusual firmness. "Joe? Joe?" He knew Joe was home; the van was parked in its usual space in the driveway. We have got to get another car! "Joe!"

"In here," Joe responded from the family room. Frank strode into the room, scowling, and began his tirade before he crossed the threshold.

"What was the idea of leaving me stranded at the hospital with no wheels? Didn't you remember that you happened to have the van, and I was stuck there?"

Joe, who was lying curled up on the couch, raised his head, a guilty expression suffusing his face. "Oh no, I'm sorry - I forgot-"

"You forgot. You forgot?" Frank rolled his eyes in exasperation, and his voice elevated a notch. "I had to take a cab home, Joe! I tried calling, but there wasn't any answer...any explanation for that?"

Joe flushed. "I - turned the phone off," he mumbled.

"Oh. Fine. You turned the phone off. What's gotten into you?" Frank shouted. "Jack arrives and tells me he'll stay with April, so I leave, thinking you must be in the parking lot, waiting. I waited - and looked - for half an hour, Joe! I tried calling both the house and your cell phone. Finally, I called a cab. I get home - and here you are, taking a nap, all cuddled down for the night!"

"All right, I said I was sorry! What do you want, a written apology? Want me to grovel on the floor, abasing myself?" Joe yelled in return. Unwisely, he jerked himself upright on the couch to continue the argument, and immediately doubled over, wincing and holding his stomach. "Ouch...."

Frank halted his irate response in mid-sentence, the anger draining from his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm okay." Joe waved his hand dismissively, but the expression on his face belied his words.

"Don't give me that, what happened?" Frank bent over his younger brother. "Where and how did you get hurt? And how bad is it, and have you been checked by a doctor? Lie down." he added, gently pushing Joe flat.

Joe forced a laugh. "Which question should I answer first?"

"Joe, quit stalling....What happened?"

"I had a - um - run-in, I guess you'd call it - with our friends from the forest, Ernie and his sidekick, Bert...no, that's wrong, it's Deke." Joe related the details of the encounter, while Frank lifted his brother's shirt and examined his bruises, wincing in sympathy.

"You idiot, when are you going to learn to keep your mouth shut?" Frank murmured, when Joe reached his conclusion. "Those guys could've killed you with that crowbar, if Jack hadn't intervened. I wonder why he didn't tell me you'd been hurt, though."

"Oh yeah, thanks to Jack!" Joe said bitterly. "You realize what Jack did, don't you? He gave those guys the coke, Frank!" He started to sit up again, but Frank restrained him.

"He saved your life, little brother; just calm down a minute. And stay put; I don't think anything's broken, but you're going to be sore for a couple of days. So just take it easy for a little while. Of course I realize what Jack did, but there's nothing we can do about it now." Although the elder Hardy's voice was calm, his eyes were grief-stricken; he had cherished the hope that this was all somehow a terrible mistake, and Jack Wayne was innocent of wrong-doing. That hope had now been dashed on the rock of concrete reality; there was no denying what Jack had done.

Joe stared at his older brother forlornly. "Why did he do it, Frank?" he whispered. Frank shrugged, and looked at the floor. He had no answer to give.

After a moment or two, Frank sighed and raised his head. "It's past dinner time," he reminded Joe. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"No - I'm not hungry." Joe answered dully.

"If you aren't hungry, you're hurt worse than I thought," Frank teased gently. "We haven't had anything to eat since breakfast - unless you and Jack stopped somewhere on the way to North Woods - and it's past seven o'clock. Maybe if we eat something we'll feel a little better.

"I'm not hungry," Joe repeated.

Frank sighed. "Well, I am." He got to his feet. "I think there's pizza in the freezer...." He walked toward the kitchen, leaving Joe alone with his bruises...and his disillusionment.

By the time the pizza was baked, the enticing aroma had worked its magic on the younger Hardy, and he appeared in the kitchen with a somewhat sheepish expression on his face just as Frank removed a pan from the oven.

"I changed my mind," Joe mumbled. "Is there enough for me too?"

His brother grinned at him. "Plenty," he replied. "I figured you'd come around, so I did two." He reached into the oven again and took out another pan. "Sit down and dig in."

Just as the boys were finishing, they heard the garage door lifting, and the sound of a car entering. "Dad must be home!" Frank exclaimed. "I thought he was going to be gone all week."

A few moments later, their father entered the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. "Did you leave any for me?" he inquired with a smile..

"There's a couple of pieces, Dad." Frank hastily set another plate on the table. "We're just finished."

Fenton sat down and ate hungrily, telling of his activities in the nation's capital as he did so. When the pizza was gone and the plates and glasses cleared away, he glanced quizzically from one son to the other.

"I thought you two were spending the week camping in the North Woods." he commented. "I'm surprised to see you at home. Get rained out?"

"No, we didn't get rained out." Frank looked at Joe, who shrugged. Why not? his statement said. "Listen, Dad, we've got sort of a problem...."

As Frank related their experiences of the past two days, Fenton listened gravely. Occasionally he nodded, once or twice he asked a question When Frank concluded his narrative, Fenton sat silent for a moment or two, deep in thought.

"It sounds as if you've had a tough couple of days." he said finally.

"Dad, how could Jack do this?" Joe burst out. "He was always right on the straight and narrow when he was flying for you - how could this happen?"

"Joe, we've known Jack for a long time," his father replied slowly. "And I want to remind you that sometimes things aren't always as they seem. Do you really find it that easy to believe that he could change so much in such a short time?"

Joe stared miserably down at the table and shrugged.

"Maybe there's more going on in this situation than Jack can tell you," Fenton continued. "I think perhaps you need to reserve judgment for a bit - until you know the whole story."

"You don't think we know the whole story?" Frank asked quickly. "Why do you say that, Dad? What do you think we've missed?"

"Whoa now," Fenton raised a hand, forestalling Frank's impatience. "I didn't say you'd missed anything at all; I just said to be sure you know the whole story before you condemn Jack completely."

Joe shook his head stubbornly. "I know enough," he muttered. "I saw - well, heard anyway - Jack give those guys the kilos of coke, Dad."

"I realize it looks very bad for Jack," his father replied. "I understand how disappointed you two are in him."

Before they could continue the conversation, they heard the front door open, and Laura's voice called out: "Frank? Joe? Anyone here?"

"Mom!" Frank leaped to his feet and hurried toward the front hall. "What are you doing home?" he asked, hugging his petite, blonde mother fondly. "I thought you were staying in New York until Friday."

"We got all shopped out," she answered. "And the girls decided they wanted to spend a few days at home after all. But they thought you boys would still be camping...Fenton! You're here too?"

Mr. Hardy chuckled as he hugged and kissed his wife. "A regular family reunion. Wrapped up my business in D.C. a lot faster than I thought I would. Welcome home, honey."

Joe took his turn hugging his mother. "You said Vanessa's home?" he asked. At his mother's affirmative nod, he grinned. "Super. Gonna go call her right now!" He headed up the stairs for his room.

"Use your cell phone," Frank yelled after him. "I want to call Megan!"

"You use your cell!" the answer floated down. "I'm already dialing...hey, Vanessa!"

Frank sighed, rolled his eyes, and went to retrieve his cell phone from his coat pocket.

*****

Joe was sore and achy the next morning, but managed to drag himself out of bed and downstairs by ten o'clock. Frank, muttering an embarrassed "Girlfriend deprivation syndrome," to Laura, had departed much earlier, heading over to Megan's house.

"Did Dad tell you about the plane crash Jack Wayne's sister was in?" Joe asked Laura as she handed him a plate of poached eggs on toast.

"Yes, it sounded terrible. I'm so glad she wasn't injured too badly." Laura replied. "Is she getting out of the hospital soon?"

"Today, probably." Joe chewed a bite of toast thoughtfully. "I wonder if she can manage okay, once she's home. It was her right arm that was broken, and I'm sure she's right-handed."

"That will be difficult," his mother agreed. "I hope they call us if she needs help. Maybe she'd like to stay here a few days."

*****

Jack Wayne escorted his little sister up the sidewalk to their house as if she'd been made of glass. Limping on her injured leg, right arm in cast and sling, but the bandage on her head replaced with an adhesive patch, April looked only slightly worse for wear. She was pale, however, and her hazel eyes looked weary and unhappy.

"Do you want to go lie down, sis?" Jack asked, his tone full of concern. "The doctor said you need to rest."

"Jack, I just got out of bed!" she answered patiently. "Let me at least stay up for a little while, huh? I'm not going to disintegrate into pieces - I have a broken arm, that's all!"

"A broken arm, bruised ribs, a gash on your leg - "

"Stitched up, Jack; healing, remember?" April had to laugh. "I'm all right, I'm all right."

"Okay...." But Jack still looked worried. "But only for a little while. I'll have to go back to the airstrip this afternoon. Maybe you could take a nap then."

"I could go with you," April suggested, but when Jack shook his head, her lips tightened into a grim line. "Or am I not going to be allowed there, since I downed the plane, and you don't think I'm qualified to pilot for Wayne's World anymore?"

"April, for Pete's sake, I never said you weren't qualified to fly for me! Stop putting words in my mouth!" Jack snarled. "You're a damn good pilot and you know it and I know it. The only thing I said was that if I'd been flying that trip - "

"-the crash wouldn't have happened. I know what you said, Jack; I've been hearing it in my head for quite some time now!" April limped to a chair and sat down with a relieved sigh. "All right, let's not argue about it. Go ahead and go to the airstrip if you want to; I'll be just fine."

"I don't need to go just yet," her brother replied. "I was going to fix us some lunch first. You can't manage that, with your arm."

"I'm not hungry," she retorted. "Fix something for yourself if you like."

Jack drew in a breath, about to fire a return shot, but clamped his lips together, turned and exited the room, his silence more telling than any words might have been. April stared after him, feeling guilty over the quarrel, her eyes wells of sadness.

She glanced down at herself. She felt disheveled and mussed, for even with the nurses' help, getting dressed had been difficult at the hospital. Jack had brought her clothes to wear home; her jeans had been unusable since Joe had slit the right leg completely open, but she was wearing the same jacket she had had on in the crash. It was stained here and there with spots of blood. April shivered in distaste at the memories it evoked.

Rapid footsteps brought April out of her reverie; Jack came striding in from the kitchen. His dark eyes were wide and startled-looking.

"April, why don't you go upstairs and rest for a little while? I really think you should." Jack had her by her uninjured arm, and was lifting her from the chair and propelling her toward the stairs even as he spoke.

"Wha - Jack, what's the deal? I said I didn't need to rest - "

"Please, sis!" He half-pushed her up the steps. "Please, just go into your room...and stay there, okay? Stay until I come get you." As he urged her into her room, the front doorbell pealed. Jack gave April one last shove and a desperate glance, then turned and hurried down the stairs as the bell rang again. April closed the door almost all the way, but left a crack open, just enough to see through. She heard the front door open, then Jack's voice again.

"What are you doing here? You said you'd leave us alone - awwk!" He broke off, making a choking noise. April opened the door a little further and popped her head out, peering over the banisters. To her horror, she saw a large man with his hands tightly around her brother's neck.

"You dirty double-crossing slimeball!" A deep voice snarled the words. April stood frozen, her heart pounding with fright. "You did it again - we tried to be nice, more than once; we gave you a second chance - and you turned around and reneged again! Where's the stuff? And you'd better not lie this time!"

"I gave it to you!" Jack gasped. "You took it with you yesterday!"

"Liar! You substituted. Where's the real stuff, Wayne?"

"You took it, I swear - acckkk." Again Jack choked, and April shivered as she listened.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs; more than one person. April shrank back from the door, but still glimpsed Jack and the intruders. The men from my dream, in the hospital! They were real! She watched, horrified, as the two men dragged Jack between them toward the bathroom. In a moment, she heard the sound of water running into the bathtub.

"What're - Deke, Ernie, I swear I'm telling the truth - what're you doing?"

"We're going to make sure this time, you lying punk!" Ernie snapped. "Put more in, Deke, that's not deep enough yet."

"I did tell you the truth - I gave you the stuff from the plane."

"Dunk him." April heard Ernie command.

"I've told you! I gave you the..." Jack's voice turned into a gurgle.

April gasped, realizing what was happening. They're holding him underwater...they're going to drown him! She pulled the door open a little further, but halted when she heard voices coming from the bathroom again.

"Now you going to tell us what you did with it? Or would you like another refreshing little dip?"

Jack coughed and spluttered, choking up water. "I - I told you - I gave you - gave you..."

"Ahhh, dunk him again." Jack's yell of protest was cut off once more as his head was forced beneath the water's surface. Seconds ticked by.

This time April couldn't stand it. She opened the door and limped into the hall. "Stop it, stop it!" she screamed. "Stop it!"

Ernie and Deke burst from the bathroom, dragging a gasping, gagging Jack Wayne between them. Water streamed from his dark hair, soaking his shirt. "Where'd she come from?" Deke demanded. "That's the little kid from the hospital, isn't it?"

"If you - hurt her - I swear, I'll - kill you!" Jack tried to shout the words, but nearly strangled on the water he had swallowed.

"Deke, lock her in a closet, or something." Ernie snapped. "She can't have done anything with the stuff; she was in the hospital."

Screaming and struggling, April found herself being pushed back into her bedroom, where Deke shoved her into her clothes closet and slammed the door. Knocked off balance by the force of the push, April sat helpless on the floor and heard something - a chair? - being wedged against the door, effectively preventing her escape.

"You leave my brother alone!" she screamed. "Leave him alone!" Her only answer was the sound of receding footsteps, and then she heard her bedroom door close. "Jack! Jack!"

They're going to kill him! They're going to kill Jack! Terrified beyond any terror she had ever before experienced, April buried her face in the soft folds of the robe hanging in her closet and sobbed hysterically.