His heart was pounding and he was having trouble trying not to panic as he got an overwhelming feeling that he was already too late.

…too late…too late…the words hung over him like a sentence…

Now you’re being overly dramatic, the teen chastised as he looked around the room for any sign of where his brother had gone. The comforter had been carelessly disregarded and lay on the floor between the two bed’s and he reached down to pick it up, half hoping the Joe was somehow curled up on the floor underneath them.

Sleeping very soundly.

But of course he wasn’t, Frank was just being hopeful.

Frowning, he decided that except for his bedroom, their bathroom and this room, Joe could be in some other part of the house. Heck he could even have been resting on the couch as Frank passed through the living room too quickly to rule that out.

And he might of even called Biff’s house if he got any sicker and maybe he was there…or at the doctor…

Aaah, frustration built up in the agitated teen, his brother could be anywhere!

Turning around to go downstairs to start a comprehensive search, he froze when a strange smell made him crinkle up his noise. It wasn’t strong…more a trace. Whirling around he wondered, what the heck is that?

And then it triggered recognition.

Joe must have gotten sick, it was the sour smell of sickness.

Sniffing, Frank tried to trace its origin, wondering it if was coming from their parents bathroom as Frank had already been in the boys’. Maybe Joe had gone in there for some strange reason.

But as Frank stepped out into the hallway the smell disappeared.

"JOE?" He yelled again and listened but still no sound.

Intense concern marred his handsome face as Frank went back into Joe’s room and then stopped when he got to where the smell was the strongest.

Dropping into a crouch, he noticed the hardwood floor was damp near and under the door. Reaching out with his fingers, Frank confirmed what his eyes were seeing.

And the dampness seemed to be coming from the closet itself.

Standing up slowly as the possible implications were staggering, Frank wiped his hand off on his jeans and then with a trembling hand, reached to open the closet door.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

* * *

Fight! Fight! Fight!

The chant filled the schoolyard as Chet followed up with a solid punch to William’s jaw. The blond boy had managed to side step the first one but the second caught him squarely and he went reeling into the side of the brick school scrapping his face along its roughness and causing him to bite his lip.

Chet had taken on a boxer’s stance as William turned around and slowly wiped the blood from his mouth with his hand. And then he raised his hand up to his mouth and tasted the blood on it.

His blue eyes were vibrant with anger and he taunted Chet, "Not bad but Iola’s was sweeter."

Chet lost whatever control he had left and flew into William. This time however, the more agile youth sidestepped him, grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the wall, momentarily stunning him.

Joe’s words rang painfully in Chet’s ears…he’s dangerous… dangerous…

But Chet couldn’t stop. William had hurt Iola and was now gloating over it.

Underestimating his sturdy adversary, William turned his back to leave.

Chet pushed himself from the wall and tackled him with a force that would have made any football coach proud.

"OOPH" William had the wind knocked out of him and before he could recover, Chet grabbed is shirt and punched him squarely in the face.

The sound of a shrill whistle punctuated the blow as the principle, football coach and school nurse pushed their way through the crowd surrounding Chet and William.

Knowing the fight was over, Biff grabbed William while Tony Prito, who had just managed to push his way through to his friends, grabbed Chet’s arm.

"It’s over Chet", Tony said and thought for a moment that Chet was going to hit him.

Chet’s eyes had a wild, uncontrolled look about them but when they focused on Tony, he nodded his head, gasping slightly from the exertion of the fight. But he was done and so he let Tony restrain him.

William tried to break from Biff but the bigger boy grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back in a move all to familiar to the younger boy, only recently having used a hold like it on Peter Bristol before he broke his finger.

"Get off me…you big ape" Will gasped but Biff just twisted the arm a bit more and Will was suddenly very afraid that he was actually going to snap it.

It terrified him because Will had no idea how much Biff knew about anything. And irrationally he worried that Joe had told Biff what he had done to Sherlock.

Just wait until I get home little brother…you just wait…he silently vowed as he stopped struggling.

The principle frowned as he looked at the two boys.

"Chet Morton and…" he paused to verify as he couldn’t tell the twins apart, "Joe or William?"

"J-J…" William started to say but one more twist convinced him not to lie, "William."

The principle just shook his head thoroughly disappointed and shocked by this outrageous display.

William was definitely the worst for wear with a busted lip and bloody nose while Chet got off a lot lighter being only dirty with a few scrapes.

"Of all the students in my school," he started slowly, "you two are the last ones I would expect to find involved in something like this. Come here."

Biff and Tony let go of their charges as the principle indicated he wanted them to stand directly in front of him, "Let’s go, we need to have a little talk in my office."

Pointing towards the building, he said, "Chet, I believe you know the way" and then followed the two boys back inside.

10 minutes later, they had been read the riot act about the no tolerance policy in Bayport High for fighting, and both were sent home with an immediate suspension until Wednesday.

The principle watched them leave the office with a perplexed look on his face. He wondered what could have possibly caused Frank Hardy’s best friend to be fist fighting with Joe Hardy’s identical twin.

Neither boy would say anything so all he could do was lecture them on the dire consequences of ever doing this again, and then he called their folks to come get them.

As luck would have it, Mr. Morton was already in town and was there shortly to pick up Chet.

William told them about Frank having already gone home to check up on Joe and that his parents were out of town, so the principle had told him to wait in the hall and he would arrange for someone to drive him home.

Which he did.

* * *

"JOE!"

"JOE!"

Joe Hardy was delirious. The infection in his back and accompanying fever were raging out of control and he had been lingering somewhere in a between world of confusion and semi consciousness for the past hour.

He couldn’t even count anymore…even if he could remember that that was what he had been doing.

Footsteps.

Joe’s head lolled to the side as he fought to keep it straight but he did not have the strength left. His body felt numb; his hands, his feet, his legs, even his head.

Everywhere except his back.

His back was on fire. Joe was sure of it. Someone had come in while he was sleeping and poured gas on it…and lit it…He was sure…

He was sure of it.

Joe closed his eyes when he heard the bedroom door opening and the sounds of someone in the room. It would be William…it always was. But he did not want to see William anymore.

"JOE!"

He felt his head fall forward and didn’t care.

And then light filled the closet.

The light from the bedroom…the light shredding the darkness…the darkness that had lived here for weeks…

The light of knowledge was horrifying…but not nearly as much as the weight of it.

The weight of knowledge was unbearable.

* * *

Frank stood there and stared. He did not understand what he was seeing.

He was right.