Despite the doctor’s hopeful words that Joe could awaken at any time, Frank hadn’t felt very encouraged, but he had remained in the waiting room for hours, hoping for the best and attempting, with Megan’s help, to keep Vanessa’s spirits up.

Vanessa had sat silently for the most part, staring despondently down at her lap and twisting the bulky class ring on her hand, or gazing at the golden heart locket Joe had given her barely 24 hours before. She had finally let them talk her into going home, around 2 a.m., but as she left, she pleaded to be called immediately if any change occurred in Joe’s condition.

Fenton had insisted that Laura go home too, after Vanessa and Megan departed, and although she protested, eventually he had talked her down. Frank drove her home, each of them assuring the other that surely Joe would be awake in the morning. Each of them whistling in the dark, clinging to any shred of hope.

"Mom, I’m going to find out who did this to Joe, you know." Frank heard himself announce, abruptly.

Laura had gazed at him in the dimness of the car, apprehension filling her eyes. "Frank, leave it to the police, can’t you?"

"I’m sorry, Mom, but no – no, I can’t. Not this time. The police don’t know everything."

"You could tell them everything, couldn’t you?"

"I could try," Frank admitted. "I could tell them everything I know, but I’m afraid I might forget something. Something vital – something I wouldn’t remember until I see or hear something else that triggers it. The police wouldn’t be able to do that."

Laura sighed. "If you can’t leave it, Frank, at least be careful," she begged him, unable to hide her anxiety. "I don’t need two children in the hospital!"

Remembering that conversation, Frank felt a pang of guilt sweep through him. Joe and I….We don’t mean to cause her worry! He had averted his eyes then, and he closed them now, trying to pretend that he hadn’t seen the worry, didn’t see her constant fears for a husband who held a dangerous occupation; didn’t see her concern over her children, who insisted on following their father into that same hazardous occupation.

But he did see it, all too well. His mother was a strong woman – stronger than most people gave her credit for being – but Frank had no doubt that she wished heartily that both he and Joe had chosen something other than detective work for careers. Medicine, perhaps – or law. Not law enforcement, though…just being an attorney. Computer programming. Business. Sports. Anything that didn’t involve constant jeopardy and life-threatening situations!

Frank sighed and rubbed his burning eyes. He was so tired…but there was so much to do!

He gazed blearily at the bedside table clock. Just after seven…. He’d been awake an hour or so earlier, and had called his father at the hospital, hoping he could tell him something new about Joe. Fenton had sounded weary, but calm.

Gritting his teeth with determination, Frank shoved himself to a sitting position and swung his legs off the bed, staring across the room at the bathroom which connected his room and Joe’s. Just yesterday morning, Joe was standing there and yawning because he was so sleepy from his date with Vanessa….Who could have done this to him? I’ve got to get on the trail of whoever caused him to be hurt like this! Just thinking of his brother lying unconscious in the hospital made Frank furious.

Involuntarily, he clenched his hands into fists on the bedcovers, gripping the edge of the mattress until his fingers ached. He rode out the waves of anger, pulling in deep gulps of air to force himself to relax. Get over it, Hardy! You aren’t going to do Joe any good this way! You can’t help him by going off half-cocked…THINK! That’s what you always tell Joe to do, isn’t it? Well, follow your own advice!

He knew his exhaustion, both physical and mental, was contributing to that irrational anger; he was too tired to fight off the edge of fury which kept him from thinking straight. But today he was going to investigate, and investigate thoroughly. He’d had a few ideas the night before….

Of course, it was entirely possible that Joe’s injuries were accidental – really, they didn’t look like anything which had been inflicted by someone. But even if no one had done anything to him, someone had put him in the passenger seat of the Saturn and left him at the gas station, rather than getting him medical attention! There was no damage to the Saturn, so Joe hadn’t been involved in a wreck. Perhaps he had been struck by a car? But if he had, surely his injuries would have been worse – wouldn’t they? Frank didn’t know, and couldn’t guess.

Slowly, he got to his feet and shuffled into the bathroom, where he washed his face, brushed his teeth, combed his dark hair, sluggishly ran his razor over his cheeks. He stared gloomily into the mirror, realizing that what he desired most at the moment was to go back to bed and sleep…but No! I can’t. I have a mission, melodramatic as that sounds. I’m not going to give up until I solve this whole thing – what happened to Joe, who has the violin, all of it. It won’t be as easy without Joe – or as much fun – but I’m going to do it anyway!

Dressed in jeans and a clean polo shirt, Frank made his way downstairs. He was surprised to find both his Aunt Gertrude and his mother in the kitchen, evidently working on making breakfast. Gertrude had gone to bed by the time he and Laura arrived home, but surely she’d been filled in on everything which had happened, by now.

"Shouldn’t you still be asleep?" he chided Laura, kissing her good morning. She looks so tired, he thought. So terribly tired. She can’t have gotten any more sleep than I did, but it’s not just a lack of sleep. She looks…defeated. He wondered if the same look was mirrored in his own eyes.

She hugged him, but quickly returned her attention to the grapefruit she was sectioning, not meeting his gaze. "I couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well get up."

"Why don’t you go back to bed for awhile?" Frank suggested, moving to hug his aunt before he sat down at the table. He took a sip of orange juice, and nodded his grateful thanks as Aunt Gertrude handed him a cup of coffee and indicated a basketful of muffins.

"That’s what I’ve been saying!" Gertrude remarked with a sniff.

Laura shook her head. "I’m fine."

"Mom, you know Dad will call if there’s any news," Frank cajoled. "And you’d feel better if you got some more rest."

"I can’t," his mother replied. "I want to get back to the hospital. It’s already after eight. I won’t sleep anymore anyway."

"Laura, you could at least try!" Aunt Gertrude’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle, and her ordinarily sharp gaze soft as she surveyed her sister-in-law. "You won’t do anyone any good if you’re too exhausted to hold your head up!"

"I’m not too exhausted, Gertrude, and I’m not going back to bed." Laura said with finality. "Frank, can you give me a ride there, when breakfast is done, or should I take my own car?"

"Sure, Mom, I’ll take you. I want to see Joe, too." Frank heaved a sigh and focused on eating. Gertrude and Laura sat down too, although neither of them seemed to have much appetite.

"Poor Joe," Gertrude broke the silence at last. "You boys really should be more careful, you know."

"I know, Aunty. We do try, though," Frank said. He reflected that he’d thought that same thing himself, more than once. But he didn’t know how they could be more careful with the unknown.

"Mom, I’ve got to give Jack a call before we go," he said, rising to his feet. "I guess Wayne’s World is going to have to struggle along without Joe and me for a day or so."

She managed a smile at his attempt at levity and nodded agreement. "Whenever you’re ready to go, Frank."

Jack was understanding and sympathetic, when Frank contacted him and told him of Joe’s mishap.

"I’m really sorry to leave you stranded, Jack – but with Joe in the hospital…and I have to look into things…." Frank wasn’t sure exactly how to phrase it, but Jack needed no explanations.

"She won’t want to load cargo in Joe’s place," Frank tried to joke. "Besides, isn’t she supposed to still take it easy with that arm she broke?"

"She may not want to, but she’s perfectly capable of it, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’s done it," Jack retorted. "I won’t let her do anything that would hurt her arm. Don’t worry about us, Frank, you just take care of business. And for God’s sake, be careful! You can’t help anybody if you end up in the hospital too!"

"You sound like my mother," Frank grumbled. "Thanks Jack," he said and hung up.

Frank sat for a moment gathering his thoughts. He’d talked to Phil Cohen the night before, while sitting at the hospital, and made plans with him and Allison for the day. He knew what his next few moves were…but if nothing happens from those moves, I don’t know what to do next! No – don’t think like that. Something will happen, something that will break this thing open! He stood up, suddenly resolute. "Mom? I’m ready to leave any time you are."

Frank had to smile when he saw Laura climb into the Saturn carefully balancing a large travel mug and a little basket of Gertrude’s muffins. "Taking Dad some breakfast?"

"Yes," she replied. "He’s had a hard enough night without having to face cold Danish and hospital coffee. At least he deserves a decent breakfast."

Frank held her gaze a moment. "And maybe Joe will wake up and want some, too."

When they reached the hospital’s Critical Care unit, Frank and Laura walked quickly to Joe’s room, where they found Mr. Hardy hunched into a chair, reading a magazine. He looked up and smiled a welcome.

"Hi, honey." Fenton kissed his wife, but gave her a long, measuring look. "You should have stayed home and slept longer," he admonished affectionately.

"I decided you needed some breakfast," she replied lightly, holding up what she’d brought. "There’s…no change?"

"No, not yet." Fenton stepped over to hug Frank, who was staring bleakly at Joe. "He hasn’t stirred, but the doctors say he isn’t in a coma, exactly…they aren’t sure why he hasn’t waked up. He could, at any time, though…."

"Fenton—" Laura pulled his attention away from their elder son. "Come on out to the waiting room to eat your breakfast. Let’s let Frank stay with Joe for a few minutes." She tugged at her husband’s arm, and he obediently followed her from the room.

Frank kept his somber gaze on his brother as he sat down in the chair beside the bed. Joe was hooked to EEG and EKG monitors, and there was an IV tube running into the back of one hand. But at least he’s breathing on his own! Frank thought. That’s good, I know it is, that he doesn’t have to be on a ventilator to breathe.

Now that he could take a long, uninterrupted look at Joe, Frank could see numerous minor injuries. His arms bore scratches and scrapes, and discolored bruises. His face was similarly marked, with abrasions and bruises, and small cuts; the largest of course being the bandaged wound on his head. Frank could believe Joe had hit his head on something hard, but the other cuts and scrapes puzzled him. It looked like Joe had tramped through a jungle without benefit of a machete – or tangled with a pack of alley cats!

"Joe, I’m going to find out who did this to you," Frank spoke aloud. "I’ll take care of finding the person who hurt you; you just work on getting better, okay?" He reached for the hand nearest him, and covered it with his own, squeezing it tightly. Still holding on, Frank sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, but he didn’t fall asleep. After a moment or two, he released Joe’s hand and stood up.

"Hang in there, Joe. I’ll be back – later."

With a set expression that was uncannily like Joe’s at his most determined, Frank walked from the room.